And I’m Back

For those of you that follow me you may have noticed that I haven’t been around much lately. This was not by choice, but due to an “endless summer” that you can read about over on my other blog (that I also spent most of this summer neglecting).

And to be completely honest there hasn’t been a whole lot to write about. I only went fishing twice all summer; once bait fishing (I know some of you are reading those two last words in your internal “EWW GROSS” voice) in saltwater, which I’ve already written about, and once near-shore trolling, which is a story I’m saving in case Marc over at The Limp Cobra ever has another contest for stupidest fisherman.

Well, yesterday I broke my dry streak and finally got out on the water for some fly fishing.

The weather was beautiful. The lake was devoid of any other fisherman. I caught a whole bunch of these:

There was a lot of these in the air:

And I even managed to move a few small bass, though it took me most of the day to figure out what they wanted.

So here’s to summer being over and my favorite time beginning; the school year.

Heartbreak

It may betray my manhood to use this description, but the water in the small pond I took my son to fish was the color of an iced latte after all the ice has melted. If you’re unfamiliar with this particular concept, think a milky-brown that you’re not sure if you can see into, that is until there’s actually something to see. In the case of the pond, a small bluegill hovering three or four inches below your little bumblebee colored popper. In the case of the old iced latte, a dead fly or an actual bumblebee.

Other than the hue of the water, the day seemed to be perfect for a quick outing with my little up and coming fly fisherman. The temperature was in the high seventies, very little wind, sunny, the insects were out but not the biting ones; like I said, just a great day to let a kid catch a few little fish on the fly to help that fishing bug embed itself a little deeper.

So I strung-up his rod, tied on a little popper, gave him a few bits of instruction and let him go.

He piled his first couple of cast but after reminding him to slow down and where he should stop the rod on his backcast, he got into his rhythm. I stood back beaming like the proud father I was as I admired my child casting with a grace that put many an older more experienced caster to shame.

Then the fish hit. It wasn’t big and it hooked itself, but my son, who obviously was born to be a fly fisherman, deftly landed it like he’d been catching fish on the fly all his life. I unhooked it for him and handed it over for a quick pic.

“So, what did you think about that bubba?” (In my world all male children are bubba, buddy or boudro.)

This is what I heard next, “That was fun.” Short pause, “I want to start fishing with Bob.”

Still smiling but a bit unsure I asked, “Bob who?”

“No, not Bob,” he laughed as a dark cold feeling started to gather along my spine. “A bobber. I want to start fishing with worms and a bobber. I think it’d be more fun. Look a butterfly! I’m going to catch it!” He dropped his fly rod to the ground and ran off in pursuit.

 

Tuesdays FOTD a Day Late – Frog Deer Hair Bass Bug

Deer hair bass bug

Due to circumstances beyond my control I was unable to post this fly yesterday like I intended to. Being a stay at home dad (or if you want to be a dick about it “Mr. Mom”) my time is not always my own.

I did eek out enough time yesterday to tie this fly but never got around to taking a good pic. When my relief (read wife) got home from work I headed out the door and to the water as fast as I could. If you were wondering why this fly looks like it was fished hard and put away wet, well…

These were the ones I caught. I don’t want to talk about the ones I missed.

The fly itself is a basic deer hair bass bug tied on a size 1 stinger hook with a tail of split Finnish raccoon fur to give the impression of frog legs.