The 2006 fly fishing catalogs have started showing up at my house. So far I’ve gotten Cabala’s, LL Bean, Orvis, and my favorite Kaufman Streamborn, and about another fifty pounds of others. Its late January and the fishing on the Yakima is slow. The river is low and clear and the water temp is around 38 degrees.

 Most of the trout bums I know are tying flies this time of year. Its pleasant work. The tying stuff is cool in a weird road kill kind of way. I’ve got pieces of elk, deer, squirrel, and other varmints, plus partridge and some expensive chicken feathers. There is tying thread, wire and hooks.  We’re tinkerer’s working on our latest super fly ideas. That is what tying is really all about; our ideas about bugs and trout. In a complicated world this is pretty simple stuff, we tie up our latest idea and test it out on the trout. Testing always testing.

 There are several schools of fly tying in a way similar to various movements in modern Art. Minimalism, Super realism, Post modernism and of course Impressionism. I find the older I get the more minimalist my ties are becoming for example, I rarely use dubbing on my Mayflies, just thread to form the bodies. Last fall I tied all my Blue Winged Olives without tails and an over sized Dun parachute. The trout bought them like an art collector at a Van Gogh yard sale.  

            One of the more quirky twists of modern fly-fishing is tradmarking and naming flies after yourself.  As you page through Kaufman’s catalog you’ll notice he has invented and trademarked a bunch of patterns; Kaufman stoneflies (10 verities), pheasantails (4 verities), wooly buggers (2 verities) etc. You need to be careful not to tie these trademarked patterns. I think it could be against the law; you don’t want a run in with the fishing police.

            I’ve wondered about this naming business from time to time. When your a little kid do you dream of a fly with your name; like a bridge or an opera? What if Pablo Picasso had been born in Livingston Montana to a fly-fishing clan, he could have left us with the Picasso midge cripple, instead of a world visually enriched beyond imagination.

 Still, I would have liked to have fished with Pablo’s flies, and you can bet they would have caught fish.

            So here’s my advice dear trout bums; If you do invent a fly that is really deadly keep it to yourself, don’t name it, don’t sell it, use it often and die with the secret. Now that is truly inspiring.