Hunting Season

Conditions have forced my hand, it is that simple. I am used to a gradual transition from the peak of the spring hatch season to the spare times of summer. There are hatches still as June winds toward July, though the bulk of them are encountered toward evening. Daylight fishing requires more patience and concentration, the mindset of the hunter.

With low water settling in during those glorious last days of May, I quickly found myself fishing to trout that had become immune to dry flies. The fishing pressure during the peak season becomes ridiculously heavy, and the wild denizens of our Catskill rivers respond with a heightening of their learned avoidance behavior. The days fished during June’s premiere showed clearly what the larger trout were up to: they took only natural flies that were moving, demanding proof positive that their meal was an actual mayfly, and not another of those biting frauds!

And so, as the first full week of June welcomed me to the rivers, I transitioned to my hunting mode. The big game hunter knows he will not find game every day he chooses to be afield. He waits, watches, learns how his quarry has changed it’s habits. The hunter considers all that he sees and makes a plan to intercept opportunity.

Back in the Cumberland Valley, in the early days of my fly fishing obsession, I learned to hunt the conditions. In the weed choked environs of the Letort, that meant a long drive from central Maryland to find myself creeping through the water meadows at first light. The largest of the Letort browns would sometimes tarry at the end of their nocturnal hunts, offering a rare opportunity to make a cast to them. With all of the impediments to success that accompany a lone fly fisher in these quests, there were some exciting moments that ended, not with a net triumphantly raised; but I learned!

With a little rain finally gracing the Catskills, I tried the tactics that produced a week ago. I found one riser, a ten inch brown in a couple of hours of work. My plan for the day said it was time to change the water, the tactics and the approach. Though the rainfall was light, it did bring a freshening of the flow and a little color to the river, and I felt the chances were good to find a good brown hunting for what the new conditions might offer.

I found what I was looking for in a small area, and George Maurer’s Queen of The Waters was soon bucking hard with a fine hunting brownie by the jaw. He tolerated my company in the net, though his partner managed to separate my fly from the tippet before we could meet face to face.

Now is the time for stealth beyond all reason, a lithe four weight cane rod, and a long finely tapered leader. The fare offered will vary, for it is a product of observation. When to offer the casual sipper a big fly as opposed to some tiny bit of feather and fur? Part of that decision is instinct, the rest is a quick accounting of the flies of the season, the lie of the trout, and the constantly varying conditions encountered. I have taken six-pound browns on tiny flies and 6X tippet, but I try to avoid it.

If I find myself in a situation that demands the lightest terminal tackle, I still fight the trout as hard as I can. I believe more trophies are lost by anglers afraid to use their equipment to it’s limits. Bamboo excels at the magical combination of finesse and strength that wins these battles. I would rather lose the battle than lose the trout to exhaustion.

A few years ago I enjoyed a resurgence in trico fishing, with more opportunities than I have enjoyed since the best days in the Cumberland Valley. I landed a couple of big brownies on the finest tackle, personal bests. That was a fine summer for flying ants too! I can laugh now at the bruiser brown that broke the bend from my size 28 dry fly hook, while I gave him all the pressure my 7X tippet could handle. An eight-foot three weight bamboo scepter lurks in the mind of it’s maker; the ultimate weapon!