Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing
The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing
The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing
Ebook330 pages5 hours

The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Every trout fisherman will find The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing a most valuable addition to his angling library. It is the first book on trout fishing which contributes here in America much that the works of Skues, Halford, Ronalds, and Mosely have contributed to the famous fly-fishing literature of England. For the first time the similarity of American and English insects and their imitations is brought out in significant detail.
This book is filled with information which will be a constant source of enjoyable reading and re-reading. It is not a book to be discarded, but rather one that the successful fly fisherman will refer to constantly, each time finding something of new value and interest.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 15, 2017
ISBN9780811766586
The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing

Related to The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing

Titles in the series (57)

View More

Related ebooks

Outdoors For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing - Alvin R. Grove Jr.

    Effect

    The Way of a Trout

    THE GREAT APPEAL of angling lies in the fact that fishermen never learn all there is to know about it. Even though they keep at it for years, the next season brings many new experiences, introduces new thoughts and theories, and witnesses the discarding of old ideas. It is something that every fisherman experiences by his own design and in his own time. To each it will be new, no matter how often it has been disclosed in the past by others, nor how many times it has been written into the pages of our angling literature.

    I agree with those who say that they have learned that the words never and always have no place in fishing, and the longer one fishes the more apparent this becomes. Only the uninitiated would be tempted to say never fish downstream, or always use a fly which is an exact imitation. It is annoying to hear and read that the exception proves the rule, but certainly in fishing this is the case. The exception is the fisherman who can cast well with poor tackle, or who can catch shy trout with tippets of large diameter, or who makes the fancy fly work like a charm. He proves only that most fishermen cast better with good tackle, catch more trout with fine leaders, and take more fish with natural appearing flies. Of course, this observation is commonplace, particularly so when one can hardly feel that he has discovered anything new himself or that he is passing it along to anglers for the first time. There is little doubt in my mind that much of the appeal in the writings of Walton and Cotton, of Ronalds and Halford, is the result of their conviction that they were actually revealing something vitally new and different to their less fortunate fellow-anglers, and perhaps to posterity as well. They were expounding on mysteries that had remained unsolved for a long time, and here and now they were revealing the true answers. It is rather difficult to capture this same feeling in writing about angling today.

    I think that I have never read a fishing book nor talked with another fisherman very long without opinions coming to the fore. This is a delightful part of angling, and several hours spent with another with opinions can be very stimulating. I do not mean by this that a chance query should cause one to pour out his convictions concerning his prowess as a fisherman, but certainly there is an unspoken understanding among anglers which is instrumental in encouraging us to cast our lot together.

    As a result of the theories of fishermen and their urge to experiment, angling progresses. It has been the stimulus in the creation of the bamboo rod, the fine leader, the heavier line, the nature lures of Rhead, the exact color imitations of Halford, the fishing entomology of Ronalds, the Mayflies of Jennings, the upstream fishing of Stewan, and the translucent dry-fly body of Dunne. It has led also to the writing of many words and to heated discussions concerning the vision of trout, the bending of the rays of light as they enter the water, the senses that fish must possess, the rising of trout, and the strike and the play which follows. Where does one find a fisherman worthy of the name who does not endeavor to understand and expostulate on these opinions?

    Of the factors contributing to successful fishing, satisfactory equipment is easiest to acquire. A friend chooses it, or the salesman in the sporting goods store selects it. Later a short chapter is devoted to this subject, not so much from the point of view of telling each one just what to buy but rather comparing some of the merits of possessing and fishing with certain kinds of tackle, as well as historical sidelights that seem interesting. Of what I have had to say, this was perhaps the easiest.

    The other factors contributing to successful angling are neither so easy to write about nor so easy to acquire. A knowledge of the habits of a trout that one is fishing for, including his food and the flies to be used, along with the proper methods of approach and presentation of the lure, is important. Experience is surely a wonderful teacher, and the broader one’s experience, the more tolerant one becomes. In fishing, each day of experience broadens the scope and ideas concerning trout and their behavior, and constantly removes the pleasures of angling from the static to the moving and motivating stage.

    A rather heterogeneous mixture of ideas occurs to me; these have to do with acquiring a knowledge of the trout, approach, presentation, and ultimately becoming a more successful trout fisherman. It is sometimes unfortunate that our measure of success has to be associated with the number or weight of trout that are caught. When I am fishing, I consider myself more successful if I catch a limit of fish, and there is obviously a deep spirit of competition. For the expert there is nothing so cruel as to discover that some novice has outfished him on a certain stretch of water or on a certain day. Of course, the expert is still the specialist, and he will prove it by taking trout when others fail. He will concentrate, above all else, on his fishing and work hard at it. Rarely does he miss a rise, and he is not talking or looking around when he should be watching the fly. He makes very few mistakes, and there is obvious purpose in everything that he does. There is a distinct thrill in watching an expert at work, and I find it difficult to concentrate with him even over a very short period of time. I have fished over the shoulder of these men, skilled in the art of angling, and have watched the cast, the trout and the rise, the strike and the play, only to breath a sigh of relief when it was all over, and the trout was creeled or replaced in the stream to live and repeat the performance another day.

    I have seen fishermen so excited after missing a good fish that they sat on the bank and shook like a leaf. I have seen them sitting on their creel, looking off into space as if, temporarily at least, they had lost contact with things here close at hand. They have mumbled the same words over and over again until recovery commenced to set in, and they would return again to their fishing, in a rather aimless and shaky condition for a time at least. These, I presume, are some of the joys of fishing since those very men go back for more in spite of this high pitch of excitement. Certainly their behavior cannot be compared with that of the expert, and their pleasure in fishing cannot be measured in terms of the large numbers of fish that they catch, but, nevertheless, I have every reason to believe that they do enjoy it as much as any other fisherman.

    At times I am impressed with little experiments, and it is unfortunate that many of the small discoveries are lost in the generalities of progress. When the following experiment was first described to me, I must confess that I did not believe it. I had read much about the bending of light rays as they passed from the thinner medium of air into the denser medium of water, and although it was interesting, I hardly thought that it applied to me or to my fishing. But seeing is believing, and when I repeated this experiment, I had to be convinced since there it was happening before me. If one places a nickel in the bottom of a pan or bowl containing a small quantity of water, arranges his line of vision so that the rim of the vessel just conceals the coin, and then has someone pour water slowly into the vessel until it is full, the nickel gradually appears. Seemingly it has moved although it still remains on the bottom of the pan. Before additional water was poured into the vessel, it was well-hidden and concealed by the sides of the container, but now it is entirely visible. Instead of this being a coin, imagine that it is a trout and turn the seeing around so that the fish is looking at the fisherman. Immediately the importance of approaching the stream with caution is apparent, and the value of using whatever cover might be convenient takes on a newer and higher significance. Trout that are completely concealed behind the stream bank can see a fisherman as he approaches the edge of the creek or river, and the greater the elevation of the angler, the easier it is for the fish to spot him. Often this very trout is a good one and likely he is smart as well. He has occupied this place along the bank for several seasons and has grown fat on flies, which float to him without his having once run the danger of being caught, because in each case the angler has announced his coming beforehand. In a situation like this, even though a fly is cast and floated with the greatest of finesse, there is no chance of success since the damage has already been done. In fishing quiet water, pools, glides, spring holes, and dams, approach is much more important than in fishing rough water, chutes, runs, and similar locations. Here the vision of the trout is disturbed essentially as much as that of the angler, and if he cannot see into the water, there is little danger that the fish can see out. Apparently the shape of the visual pattern of the fish is a cone, and when the water is quiet, the walls of the cone are straight, and the sight of the trout is enhanced. When the water is rough, the walls of the cone are distorted, and the vision of the trout is reduced.

    The sense of sight is well-developed in trout and affords the method by which they not only find most of their food but also gain protection from their natural enemies including the fisherman. The angler who wears rather inconspicuous clothing of a neutral color helps to conceal himself from the trout. White hats, flashy buttons, shiny fly boxes, and the like make him more noticeable. Thaddeus Norris expressed it rather tersely when he wrote that if the angler wanted to wear fancy buckles on his shoes, he should, but not on his hat.

    Often the average fisherman learns how to approach the water on his home stream, where to kneel, and what concealment to make use of. Likely, he even discovers that there are certain stretches of water in which he has never succeeded in taking trout, and even though he knows that the fish are there, he avoids these places since he can do better elsewhere. The specialist not only learns this for his home water, but immediately makes use of this knowledge when he is fishing in strange places. I know that we are not all striving to be specialists in fishing, but hardly any one of us fishes without hope of improving and by so doing taking more trout.

    The sense of touch or feeling is also well-developed in fish and in order of importance would follow that of sight. Vibrations set up in the water are transmitted readily to the trout. Heavy walking along the bank will put down or chase into concealment many fish which otherwise might remain in a feeding position. When a stream is being waded, it must be done cautiously with as little disturbance as possible. If fishing is done from a boat, it is necessary to take some precautions with vibrating oars, and the like. There is hardly anyone who does not know this and also that noises made in the air have no apparent effect on the trout. I have forgotten now who performed this experiment, but some famous fisherman carefully built a blind next to a good trout pool and fired shotguns into the air in an effort to create sufficient disturbance to scare the trout, but to no avail.

    Nothing breeds success so well as success itself, and certainly nothing promotes the taking of more fish so much as the taking of some fish. Certainly, learning to recognize in the stream the locations that trout occupy as feeding stations or perhaps as places of security will contribute to better fishing. It matters little whether one learns to know of such places through description or by actual fishing experiences since the end result is the same. It might be advisable to hesitate, if for only a moment, to consider locations where fish are likely to be found. Of course, if dry fly is being fished and the trout are rising, there is no point in wasting time in sampling the water, regardless of how intelligently it might be done; but otherwise it is necessary to cast the fly somewhere, and even though some have chosen to describe this as fishing the water and would despise it as a method, I know of no other substitute. In spite of the fact then that many of us fish the water, we do it rather intelligently, and here again some experience saves time and improves the chances of success.

    One of the best locations for trout is in the very first eddy after the stream starts its fall into the pool below. This location was described by Francis as the eye of the water, and although I think that there is little value in perpetuating such confusing terminology, this spot is very fine indeed. I have found that good trout often occupy this position and feed here without interruption. Frequently it is a difficult place to fish with a natural float because the water of the eddy is slow and quiet while that of the main current likely is fast and often may be rough as well. The duration of the natural float is short, and unless the trout can be induced to rise almost immediately, little is gained by fishing over the same spot more than several times. The lower end of the fast water that enters a pool always seems to be good and might be described as the tail of the rapid, but this should not be confused with the tail of the pool. Quite obviously, this is a good feeding station since the greatest volume of water is funneled through this rather narrow chute and with it a large proportion of the food that is present in the water. Depending on the volume and force of the stream entering the pool, trout might feed along this current over its entire length. I have found that the head of the pool is better than the center, and nearly always the fish are larger there than lower in the pool. The tail of the pool, where the water is shallow and may run over a gravel or a rocky bottom, is often good during the evening rise, and large fish may occupy this position. I do not know why it is so, but often I have seen trout lying in the tail of the pool, but they were not feeding, or if so, only sporadically. At night or perhaps in the late evening, trout frequently move into shallow water to feed either on flies, minnows, or crayfish, and then the tail of the pool might improve noticeably.

    The junction of currents produced by stream obstructions, eddies below rocks, and the point at which a smaller stream enters a larger one all represent excellent feeding stations. Often I have found that it is profitable to walk the bank on the shallow side of the stream and fish into the deeper water along the opposite bank. When the water is high, particular attention should be paid to the quiet water along the edges and to the little swirls and eddies of the backwater. Usually in smaller mountain streams the deepest water of the largest pool offers the best location. Frequently these streams have cut through narrow ravines or steep-sided canyons, and in many places the stream bed is nearly bare rock. Ordinarily I find that these places are difficult to fish and are somewhat easier to handle with a wet fly than with a dry unless a hatch is on and the trout are actively engaged in feeding. Tree roots, brush piles, old dams, and bridge piers are good, but in many cases these seem to be custom-made for the bait fisherman and not easily adapted to fly fishing.

    To be able to read the stream—to acquire stream strategy as George Harvey calls it—is a further step in understanding the habits of the trout. The expert always seems to cast to the right spot. His eye is always on the water ahead as well as on his present cast, and little time is wasted in fishing stretches of water that are inhabited only by small trout. If fishing is reduced to a mere mathematical consideration, then only so many casts can be made in a day or an evening, and if these are made into chosen locations, the rises and the total catch will show evidence of it. On occasion I have talked with luckless fishermen who emphasized their bewilderment at not taking a single trout by describing in great detail the meticulous care with which they had covered every inch of water. I dare say that this fact alone contributed greatly to their failure. If they had fished faster, had covered not more water necessarily but more good water, and had limited their casts to one or two into each place instead of casting time and time again, their success might have been assured.

    In the south of England, particularly, dry-fly fishing is the most generally adopted method. There the streams are referred to as dry-fly streams, perhaps for no better reason than the fact that most of the fishermen fish the dry fly. In this case they patrol a beat, waiting and watching for the trout to work, and then casting to the rise. In this country we do something of the same thing in dry-fly fishing on much of the water of streams referred to as limestone, and to a certain extent on those that we call freestone, particularly in large pools or at the time of the evening rise. During the day it is a rather common practice to fish much of the stream somewhat at random, casting more to the water and planning our time so that we arrive at a particularly good pool for the evening rise. In this case we too patrol a beat, but most of us pay less attention to it than the English.

    I have often thought about what constitutes a dry-fly or wet-fly stream and have concluded that at least three factors contribute to the designation, and the most obvious is perhaps the least significant. In my opinion streams sometimes are so named as a result of the anglers fishing them with a particular type of fly. If a stream is nearly always fished with a dry fly, it is so-called, and the opposite is true of the wet-fly stream. A second reason is that many of our streams are poor in food supply, and there is little doubt that then the trout are forced into greater competition for sufficient food to maintain themselves. In some cases this competition is so keen that not all of the trout put there by stocking or raised there naturally can survive, and if they do, the growth rate is tremendously slow. Even in the older and mature fish the heads are large and ghoulish, and their bodies are reduced to a long, skinny taper. Under such conditions the appetites of trout must never be satisfied, and apparently they will rise more readily to the surface to take any food that they might find. In spite of this, however, the larger percentage of their food, during most seasons of the year, still consists of the immature or so-called aquatic forms of insect life. It is not always the case, but I suspect that consistently good dry-fly streams are lower in available food content than some others that we refer to as wet-fly streams. I know many fishermen who have developed as nearly dry-fly purists because their limited fishing time is spent on some freestone, or dry-fly stream where there is little reason to use wet flies to take fish. It is an exhilarating experience to see a good fish rise to the surface and suck in a dry fly. I remember several years ago that I had made arrangements to meet Bob Schweiker on the Loyalsock on my way home from fishing in Maine and New York. At that time Bob was a dry-fly man and fished drys consistently on such water as Grays Run, Lycoming Creek, the Sock, and other so-called dry-fly streams. Knowing that I fished wet fly quite often, he asked me about it, and finally decided that he would see what he could do with wets on the same water where he had been fishing dry fly, and dry fly only, for a number of years. His catch at first was a little smaller, but as he became more proficient in handling wet flies, the catch rose steadily until he took as many trout, if not more, on wets than he had even taken on the dry fly. In this case the decision of the fisherman alone was sufficient to change the classification of the stream from dry-fly to wet-fly.

    A third condition that influences the naming of the stream is the predominant type of insect which might occur there. More than likely our dry-fly or freestone streams are lined with trees and shrubs from which many terrestrial insects fall into the water. These streams are often smaller, although this is not always true. More often than not our wet-fly or limestone streams flow through the lowlands. They are more slowly moving, often passing through meadows or along cultivated fields. Here the terrestrial insect population falling into the stream is somewhat smaller except for special hatches, and as a consequence the trout are forced to feed more consistently on natural, aquatic-reared insects and other aquatic life not belonging to the Insecta.

    Aside from the fact that there are fundamental differences in stream insect type, i.e., terrestrial and aquatic, differences exist also within the aquatic types that might be present. Some streams are fortunate in that they harbor large numbers of mayflies (Ephemeroptera), and these provide glorious hatches of duns and the subsequent return of the spinners, which trout take eagerly from the surface of the water. Other streams have an abundant aquatic population, but fewer of the mayflies and perhaps larger numbers of the stone flies and caddis flies. The hatching of the dun, over-the-water flights, and egg laying of these differ, and the appearance of the spent fly on the water is not so common as in the case of the mayfly. In this situation it is less likely that the trout have learned to rise so freely as on streams blessed with larger hatches of the Ephemeroptera. Evidence of this exists on nearly every stream where once or twice during the fishing season, large hatches are on, or hatches of large flies occur. Spring Creek, Honey Creek, Penns Creek, and other streams of central Pennsylvania are famous for their hatch of Green Drake or Shad Fly as it is called there. During the ten days or so that this fly is on the water, more trout rise to the surface than at any other time of the year. Not only are more trout working, but the larger trout, which theretofore fed under the water, make their appearance, and during this season the possibilities of a good catch on dry flies are increased. To a lesser extent on certain water the same is true of hatches of the Grannom, of the Canadian Soldier, of the Hendrickson, of the Pale Evening Dun, and of others.

    The rises of trout to a fly have been variously described, and such descriptive terms as bulge, dimple, long bulge, swirl, and explosive rise are useful as well as picturesque. Actually the specific term used is of little consequence, but the information conveyed by the word is useful. The inability of many fishermen to recognize the feeding habit of the trout by the type of rise accounts for much of their failure to catch fish. If the angler finally concedes after the course of a day’s fishing that his present method is the wrong one and changes, let us assume from a dry to a wet pattern, his chance for good fishing may be gone. I have been prone to do this, too. I have gone fishing, reached the stream, and fished dry fly just because I had planned it that way, even though I knew when I looked at the water and at the rising fish that the type of fly to use was wet or nymph. The failure of fishermen to observe the type of rise and to fish accordingly shows poor judgment and will hardly lead to a good catch. I recall a rather quick trip to a spring-fed pond to fish for trout in June of 1949. I had only a single afternoon to fish there, and I admit that I was intent on fishing dry fly. When I looked at the pond, there was no action whatsoever, and rather reluctantly I changed my plans and fished wet fly. My enthusiasm was limited, and except for a few rather small trout, there was little activity for several hours. Finally toward late afternoon, a few duns started to come off, and I began to see trout feeding, but as I looked, I concluded that they were taking the nymphs just under the surface of the water and had not yet started to rise to the adult. Nevertheless I changed to dry hoping against better judgment to have some dry-fly fishing. It was in vain, however, and except for one nice Brownie, about a pound, I failed to interest trout in the dry fly. By this time another hour had passed and I had to leave. As I did so, I could see that the trout had now changed their feeding from the nymph to the adult, but my chance was gone for that day.

    It is imperative that the fisherman be versatile and willing to fish dry when it is called for and wet when it is necessary. It is poor policy to be a purist of either variety if one wants to catch trout, and there are very few consistently good trout fishermen who limit themselves to one kind or the other. Not only are they willing to fish either wet or dry but enthusiastic about doing so. They look at the water, observe the fish or type of rise, and make their decision immediately. Many times this quick decision is the key to good fishing.

    If the trout breaks the surface of the water when it rises, it is nearly certain that it is feeding on food from the top of the water, i.e., above or on the upper part

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1