Synthetic Winter Dry Fly Fishing

 When I took a few steps down the bank to the a tributary of the river I was intending to fish a few days ago and saw a sizable trout  rise under the bridge upstream from me, I was sure I'd just found something special. This small stream boasted a pretty good wild trout population. At the time I first saw the fish surface, I didn't know it ever got stocked. The assumption was this had to be either a wild resident, a large holdover, or wild fish from the larger river just downstream. I sat and watched for a while. I was on the phone with my grandmother anyway, which made it easier to be patient, but I like to observe a riser for a bit before I make my shot. By the time we'd said goodbye, three more fish had risen and I'd determined that they were feeding on midge emergers. I was already in a good enough position. I'd have to cast over a small log but that wouldn't be much of an issue. Heart pounding, I tied on a size 24 midge. I waited for the fish to rise again, he was doing sets of three, and made my presentation. The fish came up and sipped, I set the hook, and everything changed the moment I saw the fish. It was a grey, disproportionate brown trout with worn fins. A stocker; not even a holdover. I looked up and another fish rose in the same spot. I shook off the brown I had on, changed to a size 14 Sedgehammer, and promptly hooked a 14 inch rainbow. 

Now I understood. This wasn't real, but it wasn't a dream either. This was a synthetic winter dry fly bite. These trout hadn't been born in a river, they grew to size rapidly on a diet of small brown pellets. These fish weren't conditioned to spurn insects on the surface when there weren't enough to make it worth expending their energy. These fish were used to looking up for food at all times. I could have put on a dry twice the size and it still would have worked. I almost certainly could have found a mouse perfectly tempting right there and then. My shoulders slumped a bit. This really wasn't what I'd hoped for.

I fished on for a bit, if for no other reason than to get that dry fly hook set muscle memory back. I chucked a streamer in the pool briefly too, just to see if there was a really big brown in the mix somehow. But after a while I couldn't take it anymore. I headed down to the larger river to see if I could find something wild there. 

No, this is not a tiger. This is what happens to brown trout after years of genetic muddling.

I didn't. All I got were freshly stocked browns and rainbows. Even more than a mile downstream from any stocking location, I got grey, nub-finned browns. I caught 33 fish that day. Not one of them felt fulfilling or challenging. I just happened to be fishing water that had been stocked that very morning. My February dry fly fish was out of the way but my itch to beat on hatchery trout the way I used to doesn't exist anymore. I can't wait to find some real big wild fish rising to a real hatch in the very place they were born. I need it so, so badly.

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Edited by Cheyenne Terrien

Spottail Shiners and White Perch Through The Ice

I like variety... if that wasn't already clear to those of you that have been reading my musings for a while. Size doesn't matter all that much. Though I love big fish, I love small fish too. I want need to catch both. Winter is generally lacking in species and size diversity in Connecticut, especially compared to spring and late summer into early fall. Mostly I'm catching brook trout, brown trout, bluegills, and yellow perch all winter. Sure, some of those might be trophy sized individuals, but after a time I want something different, even if it's tiny. It was for that reason that I wasn't at all disappointed when my friend Rick and I set up over likely crappie territory but instead started pulling spottail shiners up through the ice.

It was a cloudy day, we had a rising tide, and it seemed like really good conditions to get some large crappies. I don't think we ended up getting even one, but we had steady action from other species. The shiners came in waves. There'd be long lulls interrupted by flurries of constant nibbles. I'd started out with plastics but just wasn't sealing the deal with them so switched to spikes instead. That worked well. 

We tried moving around to see if we could get on top of a school of crappies. Our third pair of holes was the most interesting. Though they were only about two feet apart, I was reaching bottom about a foot before Rick. We were definitely on some sort of structure- what, exactly I wasn't sure. This was, unsurprisingly, the best hole of the day. Though it did produce lots of shiners and a couple bluegills, white perch were the headliners. I'd caught only a couple through the ice prior and I didn't get that many to add to that total. One of them, though, was pretty darn nice. Long, fat, and full of fight, it outclassed every other fish I'd caught that week by a wide margin. Big white perch fight really hard. I have quite the soft spot for them.

So, although this day didn't give up what Rick and I had hoped for it was a respite from what I'd been experiencing. Over the coming week or so I'd get a little bit more variety, and some bigger fish as well. For those of you who aren't that interested in the ice fishing posts, I'll mix in some more recent trout outing for, well, variety.

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Edited by Cheyenne Terrien

Bluegills in a Blizzard

 Sometimes I just have to say screw it and go fishing regardless of the weather. I’ve basically been doing this professionally, anyway. Neither snow nor sleet nor heavy rain nor tornado warning has kept me off the water. Frankly I enjoy fishing in bad weather. It excites and rejuvenates me. And if I’m honest, it also makes me feel at least a little bit badass. So when Connecticut was being pummeled by a gnarly snowstorm on the first of February, I was going fishing. I wasn’t going to drive anywhere, it was too nasty. I wasn’t going to fish open water either, I just didn’t feel like it. I was going ice fishing. The closest options are all pretty mediocre hardwater fisheries. There are plenty of fish in them, they just seem trickier to ice fish than other bodies of water I’ve been on. But there was one place that was as near a guarantee as I could get and it was within walking distance. 

So I set out into the winter wonderland. The howling wind blew both the snow that was falling and that which was already on the ground. I could hear plow trucks in the distance and the wind in powerlines and trees, but not much other than that. In about 15 minutes I was at my destination. Spudbar in hand, I cleared a bit of snow from the inside of a vertical concrete tube about four feet in diameter. Then I spudded a hole in the 5 inches of ice underneath that. I then lowered my little tungsten jig down there. A few minutes later it came back up with a bluegill attached. A few minutes after that I got another. They were all tiny, but I’d caught some fish and that’s all I really needed.

 I looked out over the rest of the pond this little weird culvert-like pipe was in. Streaks of snow whipped across the ice. I’d never caught much any time I tried to fish any other spot in this place. I briefly considered trying along the dam somewhere, but decided to head back home. 

I walked back in my own footsteps. Though they weren’t even 45 minutes old, they were already just shapeless potholes in the ever deepening snow. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Edited by Cheyenne Terrien

Regained Mojo

 The very evening after my atrocious performance on a sandy lowland stream, I got a short opportunity for redemption. The water I'd be fishing was also small but far more rocky and fast flowing. Additionally, it was much less urban. This stream is dominated by brown trout though it has a far more robust brook trout population. I was still a bit frustrated by my prior performance, but determined to at least catch a couple fish. Time and daylight were limited. I'd need to fish with an efficiency I'd lacked just hours prior. All it takes to do that is to stop, take a breath, and get out of my own way. When I'm on, I'm really on. Everything comes naturally. When I'm too unfocused, or sometimes too focused, I overthink things and get physically more aggressive: I put more power into casts than necessary, I walk more forcefully, I make changes in fly selection or presentation that aren't necessary. There's a happy medium of focus, and when I'm in it I'm a pretty decent angler.

The fly I chose was, of course, the Ausable Ugly; my ultimate small stream brown trout confidence fly. I'd not doubt the effectiveness of the fly as it was one well proven. As I worked upstream through a set of good plunge pools and runs, I wasn't getting the action I'd hoped for. Knowing this stream sees more pressure than many of those I fish, I wasn't concerned that my angling was at fault. Someone else could well have just fished this very water an hour prior and the trout could still be on edge. Finding undisturbed fish would take a little time, perhaps, but wasn't impossible. Eventually I came to the piece of water in the photo below.

A place like this has multiple good lies for trout to use and on occasion, each one will be occupied by an active fish. The first obvious seem runs along the right side of that fast current tongue. Slower water flowing from the right meets that fast water on the left side of the photo. There is enough depth there, and the converging currents both deliver food and create a soft cushion of slower water where they meet. This is a prime feeding lie and that's where I caught the first fish. 

To the right of that current seam but less visible in the photo since part of it is in shadow under the log, is another prime lie where two currents of equivalent speed meet at a 45 degree angle. I dropped the Ugly in the V and it was taken on the drop. Another wild Salmo trutta of similar size came to hand.

This wasn't the only time this little piece of water produced multiple fish while other parts of the stream under performed. Notably, right around Christmas 2017, I caught four browns out of this stretch of stream on an egg. There are some stretches of river that are simply better for holding trout- whether they are easier places to catch them is another story. 

I felt good... finally. I'd fished well. Two beautiful wild trout were fooled and both came to hand.  I'd regained my mojo. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Edited by Cheyenne Terrien

Lost Mojo

 Some days just suck. Whether the fish are feeding or not, other factors control whether an angler catches. Even the most well-versed, skilled, and knowledgeable fly fisher has days that just suck. And I'm far from the most well-versed, skilled, and knowledgeable. This post is about one of those days where my mojo was absent. 

It was another in a string of mild days in January. I ventured to a lowland stream dominated by brown trout, though not devoid of brookies as I'd been the first to document their presence in 2018. It is a high yield fishery. High nutrient levels, abundant baitfish, and more than a mile of water with ideal spawning gravel means it holds hundreds of fish. It can be a difficult stream to fish but I don't usually struggle. This time though, I sucked. I caught two small browns in the first run, and perhaps gave myself a confidence I didn't deserve. 

From that point forward, my success plummeted. The largest fish I fooled broke off, and it really wasn't that big. On 4x tippet I had no excuse. I spooked fish. I put flies in trees. I put flies in submerged logs. A row of 18 Hare's Ears in my nymph box turned into a row of 10 and one bent out. I missed fish and lost fish. I got more and more frustrated and it only made me fish worse. I eventually did get a third brown to hand, but it was another of less than notable proportions. 

At one point, I found a couple small fish rising in a typical pool tailout and decided to give them a go. I waited and watched for a while and singled out the fish that was rising most often. It was also closer to me, conveniently. I didn't quite have the flies I needed but I thought a small foam beetle should work. These were tiny brown trout in relatively unpressured water, they should be easy, right? 

I put the fish down on the first drift.

The reality in fishing will always be this: you will have bad days. Lots of them. Some will leave you very irritated- as irritated as this day left me. What I needed to do is think about fixing the errors I made and trying to treat the next new day on the water as though it were a chance to improve upon those mistakes. And that's what I'd do... more to come. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Edited by Cheyenne Terrien