Glory Be a Rise in February

Because a trout's feeding is largely on subsurface food sources; be they other small fish, macroinvertabrates, or even certain plant materials; it is a special moment when one looks up, sees an insect drifting down current, and decides to rise up to meet it. Maybe it keeps seeing more bugs up there and decides it should keep feeding on them. Perhaps it even decides to sit higher up in the water column instead of holding near the bottom, and develops a rhythm, rising at timed intervals. If it's a "good" fish, a wild trout, above average size in its population, this is the dry fly lovers moment of zen. If it happens in the winter, all the better.

I've been fishing dry flies to active rising trout for ages. The first trout I ever caught was an active riser that I stalked and caught with a Catskill style March Brown. The first fly I ever tied was a Catskill style dry fly. So, though I strive to be the most well rounded and least puristic fly fisherman I an be, dry fly fishing, especially to actively rising fish, is very much in my blood. When I find one of those glorious moments I take a breather, assess the situation, and enjoy the moment. I watch the fish feed and plan my approach. I make sure my leader is tapered the way I want it. I choose an appropriate fly. If it's a really big fish, sometimes I watch and fumble for a long time because I'm so nervous. It may make me shake, tension grows with each rise, but I still do it every time because haste to put a fly over a fish before you've got a good idea of what it is is doing is more likely to lead to failure than nerves. A cocky presentation works in a lot of fishing scenarios, but it doesn't work with a rising wild trout, because that fish has put itself in a vulnerable state and it knows it. Approach slowly, cast softly, make your fly act like a real bug. 

I found one of those ever elusive wintertime steady risers on the third day of the month. It was a brook trout of above average size rising every 20 seconds for fluttering midges in a mirror surfaced pool. I hadn't even rigged up yet, so I sat on the hillside 80 feet away and watched it work while I prepared myself. 

After I was good and ready, I made my approach. The fly I had on was an Ausable Bomber, nothing like the midges this trout was eating, but I knew it would take this as well. I got into position behind a boulder, and waited. The fish came up again so I new it wasn't spooked during my movements. I pulled four feet of line off the reel to add to the six already outside the tip of the rod and the roughly five foot ten between the reel and the tip. I began carefully coiling the line in my left hand with the fly dangling less than a foot below it. I then drew back that hand and cocked my right, on the cork of the rod, up ever so slightly, bending the fly rod back. I paused a moment, then let it fly. The Bomber landed three feet upstream from the fish and began drifting gently down. When it had traveled a foot, I gave it a twitch. The hungry char took notice. It began swimming upstream to the Bomber. It paused right under it for a second, tipped almost vertically, drifting with it backwards. I twitched the fly again and she ate it.

Wow was she ever a spectacular creature. The dark marking on her anal fin set her apart from other brook trout, I can't remember ever seeing this before on a brookie. 

You know, this is why I fish. People can wax lyrical all they want about how they don't need to catch fish, that just being out there is what matters. Maybe that is what fishing is to you, but to me, it is unquestionably about the fish. I can't believe my luck that I get to go out nearly every day and interact with these animals. I get to sit next to a pond or a brook or a beach or a canal and watch fish doing what fish do, then try to see if I've learned enough from watching to fool those fish into eating some feathers, hair, foam, and artificial fibers I've fastened to a hook. I'm not looking for enlightenment, I'm just looking for fish. Fish make me very happy. 

Until next time.

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

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