|
|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
STOP, OBSERVE, and LEARN By Reg “Chip” Chipman
“You can observe a lot by just watching.” Archie Bunker “Harvey P. called and said he would be by to pick you up at five in the morning,” my mother said, as I entered the kitchen, throwing my baseball glove on top of the refrigerator, “and put that dirty glove someplace else.” I groaned. I would have to get up around four. Teenagers of past, present, and future generations do not function well when they have to get up before the roosters. I was no exception. To make matters worse, Harvey P. would have the radio tuned to WLBZ Bangor and the “Yodeling Slim Clark” radio show. Just listening to Slim was torture enough, but Harvey would sing and yodel along with Slim. It sounded like a chicken being strangled. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Harvey’s dog Moxie, who was always with Harvey, would begin howling when Harvey started yodeling, whether in protest or accompaniment I didn’t know. It was, however, a small price to pay to have Harvey P. as my fly fishing mentor. Harvey knew more about fly fishing than anyone and I hoped some of his wisdom would eventually rub off on me. I had hoped to snooze a bit on the way to the stream, but the combination of Slim, Harvey, and Moxie made that impossible. We pulled into a small parking area near the bridge that crossed the stream. “Let’s go upstream,” Harvey declared. We assembled our rods, and I started to tie on a fly. “What, pray tell, are you doing?” asked Harvey. “I’m tying on the fly that I did real well with last week.” I said. “What are you going to use?” “I don’t know yet,” replied Harvey. “When will you know?” “Soon as I take a look see at the stream.” “You have been here hundreds of times Harvey P. If you don’t know what it looks like by now you never will.” I had heard that when you got old, the memory started to go. “Come,” he commanded. I followed Harvey to the stream. He stopped several feet from the bank. “Now look,” said Harvey. “Look at what?” “Look for any rises or insects flying around.” “Yeah, I see some little mayflies that are a yellowish color, and I just saw a rise by that sub-merged log over there.” “Those are Sulphur Duns, out west they call’em Pale Morning Duns or PMDs,” replied Harvey. “Now what’s your best guess of what to tie on?” “Let me take a wild guess.” Harvey explained that insect activity was in a constant state of flux. It changed from month to month, week-to-week, day-by-day, and even hourly. A good fisherman is a good observer, Harvey said. It was a lesson I never forgot.
|
|
||||||||||||||||||
About
AZOD.com
|
Privacy Statement |
Submission of info Policy|
E-mail the Editor |
|
||||||||||||||||||||
