So here we are, the last full week of April. There have been a couple of very nice warm days, and the river temperatures soared into the mid-fifties at their peaks. It was just thirty degrees this morning when I stumbled onto the porch here at Crooked Eddy however, and they have taken the sunshine from my forecast. The weekend reports are buzzing with all of the right words, though expectations are tempered a bit since they are commercial reports after all. It seems its now or never.
I tied a few flies yesterday, and a few more this morning, keeping to my ritual for the coming of the dry fly season. That was inaugurated on Friday at last, the cane dutifully bent and writhing with life after a clean stalk and a lovely cast with the 50 DF. Another 100-Year Dun has made it’s mark, fooling a great fish, cautious in low water despite her hunger for the new spring’s looked for bounty.
After a very long, very cold winter, the question on a thinking angler’s mind revolves around the effects of two months of snow and ice encrusted rivers at extremely low flows. This week should begin to reveal the answers. As a general rule, Mother Nature offers a handful of small olives or our father Theodore’s honorably named Quill Gordon as the first mayfly of the season. I have seen neither, though of course there are those reports. This early cup full of Red Quills surprises. Though surprise is something Nature has demonstrated countless times.
I hope the full complement of spring hatches lies right here on my doorstep, further that I might begin to enjoy their company just hours from now. It is nothing new to find some surprises in the mix, for that is all part of the magic we seek every free day of the season.
Bright Waters Catskill 