It is generally considered that fly-making cannot be taught by written instruction, but this depends somewhat on the intelligence of the scholar, who must not undertake to conceive the result before he has waxed his thread, but should be content to follow the directions word by word. At all events there is something that the experienced, and an immense deal that the partially instructed beginner may add to his store of knowledge, and if the following directions will not make a novice perfect, they may aid him when he has had a few personal lessons. To tie a fly, the gut should be singed in a candle or bitten at one end, and the hook and thread waxed to insure the hook’s not coming off, which, when a fine fish has it in his mouth, is a heart-rending casualty. Take a few turns with the thread on the shank of the bare hook, nearly to the head, then applying the gut, whip it firmly on by working back to the bend; under the last turns at the bend insert whisks for the tail dubbing, floss or herl for the body, and tinsel if desired. The floss, silk and dubbing are generally spun or twisted in with the thread, and then wound back toward the shoulder, but they may be wound on before, with, or after the thread. Care must be taken that the turns at the bend be firm, and when the material is carried back, the body is finished with a couple of turns of the silk, a hackle is then introduced under them and firmly secured. Wind the hackle round the hook at the place where it is inserted, and when it is sufficiently thick, and the fibres which constitute the legs stand out well, tie it down. Prepare your wings by stripping off the requisite number of fibres, and tie them on, either single or divided, and finish off. To make a buzz-fly, that is, one with the hackles the whole length of the body instead of only at the shoulder, insert a hackle at the bend at the same time with the body and tail, and twist it round the body after that is put on, and fasten it at the shoulder. The wings are sometimes laid on pointing up the shank, and afterward bent down and brought in their places. And thus, if any one desires, he may make a fly.
Few people in this stage of civilization dress their own trout flies, and although skill in the art will enable you to make a better selection in your purchases, it is rarely useful at the riverside. The better plan is to have a great variety, keep them safe from moths by the use of a linen bag, and fish often enough to prevent the gut’s decaying. I have flies that have been in my possession for fifteen years, and yet seem to be as good as ever. You would require a knapsack to keep all the articles requisite to dress every fly, and would waste half your day in the operation. Nor is it yet settled that by imitating the natural insect you gain any advantage; one half the most skillful fishermen assert that the fly, as for instance, the scarlet ibis, need resemble nothing on earth, or in the waters under the earth, and that the sharp-sighted fish are never deceived by thinking ours the natural insect, but take him for some new and undescribed species. As for myself, to use the quaint language of the editor of the “Knickerbocker,” “sometimes I think so, and then again I don’t, but mostly I do.” On certain occasions it would seem that the closer the imitation the better, on others the less the similarity the greater the success. Upon this question my friends stand like the hackle on a well-dressed fly, “every which way.” At any rate, it is no time to be dubbing when you ought to be fishing, and if you cast a long line and a light fly and the fish will not rise, you may be sure they will not.
The various flies that appear upon the surface of the numerous and varying waters of our country, from the borders of Mexico to the confines of Labrador, would furnish the subject for an instructive and interesting work.
The natural flies, whether hatched from the caddis at the bottom of the streams, or from the burrows in the ground, or the knots on the limbs, or the cocoons amid the leaves of trees, are more numerous than those of any European country. As a class, they are larger, the ephemeræ especially, and although often found to be similar in general appearance, furnish many species unknown there. They have never been properly described and classified, and no satisfactory work has been written, at all thorough and reliable, in which an attempt is made to record their nature and habits.
Many of them do not return every year, but seem to require several seasons to mature, and the earliest fly of one season may not be that of another. Every observant fisherman has noticed flies at one time that he may not see again for a long period, and has found his imitations of them perfectly useless.
The first tree that puts forth leaves in the spring is the maple, and its buds are a bright scarlet. As they drop into and are swept along the surface of the water by the wind, the fish seize them, no doubt either decoyed by their appearance or attracted by insects that may be concealed upon or within them. The scarlet ibis resembles these buds nearer than any other known thing, and is probably mistaken by the fish for them.
When commencing this work, it had been my intention not only to describe the artificial flies in general request, but to give the habits, periods and names of the natural ones of which they were imitations, without which latter information the former would have been far from complete. But the obstacles in my way were so numerous, the confusion existing as to names, localities, and times of appearance was so utter, the difficulty of finding any satisfactory work on the natural insects so great, that I was almost in despair; on the point, however, of making the attempt, rash as it appeared, I was informed that the matter had been undertaken by a friend of mine, who is every way equal to the task. Although much relieved, there was still something to be done to give a general idea of the flies in use with us. On this subject, the only work existing of any value is the supplement to Frank Forester’s “Fish and Fishing,” written by a gentleman who is a thorough sportsman, and alongside of whom I have often had the pleasure of casting the fly. The directions in the body of that work itself, like many other parts of it, are copied from the English writers, and in our waters are utterly valueless. The author, although a splendid sportsman, was not as an angler acquainted with our trout streams and ponds, and the contributor of the supplement judged rather too exclusively from his experience on Long Island.
The first and most striking difference to be observed between the systems of the two countries is in the comparative size of the flies, those of America, following the natural insect, being larger, and, probably for a similar reason, gaudier. It is a remarkable fact that the most gaudy of all, the scarlet ibis, is prominently successful alone in the streams of Long Island and of the British Provinces. As many of the Long Island trout yearly migrate to the sea, in which peculiarity they resemble the fish of the latter place, it may be that this fly is only a favorite with sea-going fish. A little tinsel wound round the body is supposed to improve its efficiency, as some fishermen suggest from a resemblance to the principal Winter food of the trout, the salt water minnow.
The earliest fly on the Long Island ponds is a dark water fly, with a brownish red body and legs, and black, filmy, transparent wings. It is rather large, is wafted along upon and occasionally rises from the water, and never appears in any considerable numbers. It is usually represented by the English or female cow-dung, which, although not similar in coloring, presents somewhat the same general appearance. The wings, being transparent, should not be imitated with a black feather, although I have had great success when these flies were on the water with a fly that had black wings and a claret body and legs. The orange dun, with a body tinged with brown, would be a good imitation.
The next natural fly, which is smaller than the last, is of a greenish yellow, and is also caricatured by the cow-dung. But it is decidedly recommended to make a more faithful copy, which the writer has done with eminent success. In speaking of this matter, it is important to add that the midges, such as the black gnat and others, are out earlier, and it is to the larger flies alone that reference is made. The earliest of the species mentioned appears in ordinary seasons about the first of March, and the next about a week later. At this period, and at all periods, of a bright day a large black gnat with black hackle, black or dark blue body, silver tinsel at the tail, and dark wings, is usually successful.
Shortly after the greenish fly, come many others, appearing almost together, and among them the cow-dung and the yellow sally, the latter occasionally fairly covering the water. About this time the professor answers well, although I have never discovered its prototype, if it has any, and shortly afterward an unimitated brown fly, together with the blue blow and cinnamon, and in warm weather innumerable others. In the latter part of April and early part of May, the bushes and streams are alive with the gay little beauties, of every color, size and shape, and the fish make them their principal food. But the waters are growing clear, the deception is becoming apparent to the fish’s eye, and the insects, though in reality larger, must have more delicate substitutes. At such times a small red bodied fly, with dun wings, has proved extremely killing, and although large, white, gelatinous ephemeræ swim upon the water, the midges are on quiet days the most successful; and when the sky is bright, subdued colors are in principal demand.
In June there are prominent, among many others, the black fly, with body, wings, legs and antennæ all of the same sable hue, busy the entire day dancing over the water a veritable dance of death, for it is often terminated by the fatal rush of the watchful trout; a dun fly, with greyish dun mottled wings, grey legs, and light green body; another fly with similar wings, but red legs, and a rich brown body—none of these having any whisks in their tails; another beautiful and delicate yellow fly, that appears generally in the morning and evening, and flies heavily and slowly from place to place, till it falls suddenly, and is forever submerged in the cruel waters. Its legs, body and wings are yellow, the latter being the palest, and it has two short whisks and antennæ of the same color. All the foregoing have four wings, in the black and yellow varieties strongly reticulated, and all but the last swim well under water. Toward night a frail whitish fly makes its appearance still more fragile than its yellow compeer; it has two wings, a thick body and long whisks. The eyes of the yellow and white fly are black spots, and although I never have done much with a white fly, a small yellowish drake was successful when the yellow flies were abundant. A better imitation however could be made of pure yellow.
On one occasion I was struck with the fact that although I did not know these insects were on the water, my only successful flies were a yellowish fly, a green-bodied, dun-winged fly, and a similar fly with a brown body, and I hit on them accidentally after trying a great variety.
Hackles, in our Long Island ponds, are, by universal testimony, a failure, and the palmers worthless; and throughout the breadth and length of our country, the winged flies are vastly preferable. The hackles and palmers are intended to represent the caterpillars, which our fish very sensibly ignore alongside of the innumerable beautiful, delicate and gaudy flies, and which under no circumstances are found except in the fresh-water brooks. Through all the early Spring, the stomachs of the trout will be found filled with the shells of the caddis, and these, if they could be obtained, would doubtless be a killing bait. Fortunately they cannot be, and are not to my knowledge used here at all.
In our mountain streams the fish are generally extremely numerous, though small, and will eagerly seize any fly presented to them, vying with one another to be first. The following is a good assortment, and will, in addition to those already mentioned, be sufficient for all waters: The alder-fly, English partridge hackle, hackles of all colors, red and black ants, the devil-fly with a yellow body, the tail of one red and one black whisk, black hackles and red and black wings, dark mackerel, red spinner, English blue jay, fern-fly, orange dun, the camlets of various colors, grey, dun and black midges, the coachman, the stone-fly, the May-flies, millers for night-work, the sand-fly, the various other duns, the turkey brown, and a large light grey fly.
As each maker employs different colors and feathers for the same fly, these descriptions are rather indefinite but by taking a number of various shades, you can readily select the most effective. The well-known flies should be dressed after Ronalds as far as practicable. It is to be regretted that there is not more uniformity and pride in, or practical acquaintance with, the subject among our principal tackle-makers. With the English makers it has always been an especial care that their flies should be dressed well and with uniformity; but here, anything that can be palmed off on an ignorant or indulgent public, or a barbarous country trade, is all that is desired. It is better always to send a pattern, with instructions to copy it precisely, and that no originality of variation will be permitted. Then, and then only, can you obtain what you wish. So much for trout-flies.
To make a salmon-fly, the following additional directions, most of which apply equally to carefully made trout-flies, will be found convenient. Tie on the gut as before directed; upon reaching the bend, fasten the spring pliers on to the thread, and do not take them off till the fly is finished. Take two turns with the silk over a strip of tinsel, pass the latter several times round the hook to form the tag, fasten it with the silk and cut it off; introduce the floss for the tip, take several turns evenly, tie it down and cut off the end; introduce the tail and then a piece of herl, wind the herl at the root of the tail and fasten it; take in a new piece of tinsel and a hackle by rubbing back all the fibres but a few at the point; leave both pointing from the head. Take a small piece of mohair between your fingers, break it over and over again into small pieces, lengthen it out and twist it round the silk toward the left, as otherwise it will unlay in winding; wind the silk and mohair together round the shank to the shoulder, leave a space of bare hook sufficient for the wings. Wind in loose coils first the tinsel and then the hackle, and fasten both at the shoulder. Strip two wings from feathers that have been taken from the opposite sides of the bird, place them together, hold them firmly on the hook with the left forefinger and thumb, and fasten them securely. Cut off the ends, insert a piece of herl, wind it over the head and tie it down. Lay the end of the silk back down the shank, and take three turns with the other part over silk, hook and gut; pass the gut end through the loop three times and draw the silk tight. Two turns of silk should hold the different parts during the entire operation, and a couple of half hitches under the wings at the shoulders are sometimes used to fasten off. The feathers should be mated to make neat wings, and if they are laid right side out they will close round the hook; if otherwise, they will stand out. Do not fail to varnish at the head with wood varnish, or some other kind that will dry rapidly. The hackle may be introduced at the shoulder. Where herl or floss is used for the body, it is wound on separately from the tying silk, which is sometimes passed in loose coils afterward. A second hackle of a different color, or a feather wound like a hackle, may be introduced after the first, or after the wings and before the head is finished, and is called the legs. The wings must be tied above the dubbing on the hook, or they are liable to turn, especially where floss silk is used for the body.
The following is a list of Canadian salmon flies, copied from the work on Salmon Fishing in the Provinces, edited by Colonel Alexander, supposed to be by Dr. Adamson, with two of my own added; the latter having been furnished by a friend of extended experience, are warranted excellent:
No. 1. Louise.—An extremely beautiful fly, having wings composed of the golden pheasant’s top-knot, breast feather and tail, with sprigs from the green parrot, blue macaw and kingfisher; the body is of fiery brown mohair, with gold twist; the head of orange mohair; the tail, a single feather from the golden pheasant’s top-knot; reddish-brown hackle and jay legs.
No. 2. Edwin.—A much simpler fly and often equally efficacious among the fins, the wings being composed of the golden pheasant’s tail feather with a dash of yellow macaw; the body, yellow mohair; ribs, of black silk; head, black mohair; tail, golden pheasant’s top-knot; hackle, yellow; and scarlet silk tip.
No. 3. Forsyth.—Wings of the yellow macaw, with a slight dash of mallard wings at each side; yellow mohair body, with black ribs; head, black; tail, golden pheasant’s top-knot; hackle, yellow, with light blue silk tip.
No. 4. Stephens.—Wings of golden pheasant’s breast feather, with slight mixture of mallard; body of reddish brick-colored silk, gold twist; head, black ostrich; tail, golden pheasant’s top-knot; hackle, red, to match the body; tip, blue silk.
No. 5. Ross.—Wings of mallard and peacock’s herl; body, cinnamon-colored silk, gold twist; no head; tail, green parrot; red and black hackles and black tip.
No. 6. The Parson.—This is a beautiful and efficient fly. The wings are mixed, and very similar to those of No. 1, but have a slight mixture of wood duck in them; the body is of very dark claret silk, with gold twist; head, black ostrich; tail, golden pheasant’s top-knot; hackle, dark claret; legs, blue, with a tip of yellow and gold.
No. 7. Strachan.—Mixed wings, chiefly of golden pheasant’s tail, yellow macaw and jay’s wing; body of crimson silk with gold twist; head, black ostrich; tail, golden pheasant; black hackle, with jay’s wing legs; tip, yellow and gold.
No. 8. Langevin.—Wings, body, tail, hackle, legs, tip all yellow, made of the dyed feathers of the white goose; the head of black ostrich, and the twist of black silk.
No. 9. Whitcher.—Mixed wings, of mallard and hooded merganser, the latter being like the teal wing, only more of a yellowish green, or the tail of the golden pheasant may be used; head, black ostrich herl; black hackle and black mohair body, with a thin rib of silver; tip, yellow silk; and tail from the top-knot of the golden pheasant.
No. 10. Grey Fly.—Mixed wings, of mallard, turkey, golden pheasant’s neck and top-knot, and sprigs of blue macaw; head of black ostrich heel; legs, carmine; grey hackle; body of a grey mohair, with silver ribs, and tip of silver and deep orange silk; tail, mixed grey mallard and tail of the golden pheasant.
It will be observed that the foregoing are not imitations of any natural insect, but merely fanciful combinations of beautiful colors. The more harmonious the tints the finer the effect. Some of them are gay flies, gaudier than I should recommend; modest colors suit the salmon as they do the ladies of our country. For the rivers of New Brunswick more particularly, I would add the following, requesting the reader to bear in mind that larger and more brilliant flies are permitted among the rougher waters and heavier fish of the Canadas.
No. 11. Nicholson.—Wings mallard with sprigs of blue macaw; body, blood-red mohair, head of black ostrich herl; hackles, one blood red and one dark blue wound on together; gold ribs and tip; tail, mallard and golden pheasant neck. This is one of the best flies ever cast on the Miramichi or Nipisiquit, and is simple and inexpensive.
No. 12. Chamberlain.—Turkey wing, the lighter and darker fibres mixed, or turkey and mallard; head, black ostrich herl; orange mohair body and hackle, yellow legs, silver or gold ribs and tip and black silk twist; tail of golden pheasant top-knot.
No 13. Darling.—Wings of turkey and golden pheasant neck feather and sprigs of blue macaw; head, black ostrich; hackles, black along the stem, but with reddish ends; tip, orange silk; tail, golden pheasant top-knot; thin gold ribs and tag and black mohair body.
No. 14. Major.—Wings of mallard and turkey with sprigs of blue macaw; head, claret herl; light red hackle, and orange legs; body, deep purple mohair; tip, blue silk: tail, golden pheasant neck feathers; ribs and tag gold tinsel.
No. 15. Captain.—Wings of turkey and golden pheasant tail and neck feathers and sprigs of blue macaw; head claret herl; red hackle; body, claret mohair; tip, orange silk; silver tag, gold ribs, and tail of golden pheasant top-knot.
No. 16. Cariboo.—Wings of turkey and mallard with sprigs of macaw, and a few fibres from the golden pheasant’s neck; head of black ostrich herl; claret legs; grey hackle; body of grey cariboo hair or mohair; lower part of tip golden yellow silk, and upper part black silk; tail, golden pheasant top-knot, and gold tag. This fly, with various modifications, is extensively used by the resident fishermen of Fredericton.
No. 17. Emmet.—No head; wings of black and golden pheasant neck feather with sprigs of macaw; body, black mohair; black hackle; gold tip and twist; a turn of black herl taken just above the tail, which is golden pheasant crest.
No. 18. Lillie.—Wings and tail dark grey turkey; body, mohair of the same dull color; yellow silk tip; red hackle, and no head. This is almost identical with the stone fly, and approximates in color to the natural fly, and is generally dressed on a small hook.
There is no limit to the list of salmon flies that might be given; artistic beauty is a great point to be gained, but further than that nothing is positively ascertained on the subject. I was once visiting a well known salmon river with fifty dozen flies loaned to me by an excellent angler who was one of the oldest habitués of the stream. Another excellent fisherman looked over my hooks with an unapproving air, and after my return told me that he was surprised I had taken any fish at all, for my flies were totally unsuited to the river. It is, however, generally conceded that different waters require different flies, and those in vogue in Canada are much gayer than those of New Brunswick. In Great Britain it was once the custom, as it still is in Wales, to use sombre colors; in England and Ireland the gayest are now the rage; perhaps it will be the same here, and in the end we may find that handsome, gaudy feathers answer best.
The turkey wing is of various colors, but where no other specific direction is given, the common mixture of black and brown is intended. Some sportsmen pretend to assimilate their flies to the sand-lance, others to the shrimp; as the salmon obtain neither in fresh water, there is little to choose between the plans.
As will be seen, therefore, from the foregoing, salmon flies are much more complicated than trout flies, and require more skill in their manufacture. The wings are ordinarily made of numerous fibres, frequently of distinct feathers, which are fastened separately upon one another, and usually called toppings. The hook is often first tied securely with thick silk and then varnished, while a small loop instead of a length of gut is used. This is allowed to dry, and finer silk, usually the color of the intended fly, is employed to tie the feathers. Occasional fastenings may be made by taking a hitch over the whole, and varnish is applied, especially at the head and tail. After the hook is tied on, the silk is made fast at the bend, where the tinsel, the whisks, the body and the hackle are inserted; the latter may, however, be introduced after several turns have been taken with the body, and the body may be divided into sections of various colors, in a manner that the least practice will render easy.
It is no small matter to give a list of the requisite fly-making materials, but the following are a few of the most important:
Silk of various colors, wax, nippers, scissors, a bench vice, picker, spring pliers, varnish, hooks and gut, tinsel of gold and silver, twisted and plain; hackles of all colors, feathers of the mallard, teal, woodcock, golden, silver and argus pheasants, turkey, macaws, curlew, ruffed grouse, ibis, blue-jay, black-bird, fresh water rail, guinea fowl, common chicken, and any and all other birds that may come in the angler’s way; dubbings of mohair, pig’s hair, wool, seal’s fur, rat’s, mole’s and squirrel’s fur; floss silk of all colors, and peacock’s and ostrich herl. Dyed feathers had better be purchased of the tackle makers, and should include blue, purple, orange, yellow, brown, green, crimson and scarlet hackles, and yellow wing feathers.
There is a Limerick hook now made with the shank turned over so as to form a loop into which the gut is inserted and the trouble of tying the gut is avoided. They have come into general use among the Irish and Scotch fishermen, and are a great aid to the man that ties his own flies. The gut in ordinary fly fishing wears out just above the hook, a difficulty that is entirely removed by this improvement, and it is by no means so ugly or ungainly as might be supposed. This is no new discovery, but has been practised with common American hooks for a considerable period, and might be advantageously used in many kinds of fishing, and applied to all hooks.
Hooks are numbered in the most singular manner, no two makers agreeing, and some indulging in remarkable eccentricities. But as Limerick hooks are generally used for fly-making, the numbers 2, 1, 1-1/2, 0 and 2/0 will include all that is requisite. No. 1-1/2 is my favorite for ordinary purposes, but a few 3/0 may be desirable in heavy water, with an occasional monster for foaming rapids.
The charges for dressing trout flies in this country are exorbitant, whereas in England they can be purchased of the best makers at from seventy-five cents to a dollar and a half per dozen; we are charged from a dollar and a half to three dollars, and generally furnished an inferior article. There is an abominable article of wholesale traffic sold for fifty cents a dozen, that is beneath any sportsman’s notice. I have imported a great many, but it is a troublesome operation, and the best way is to bear the imposition meekly.
The English and Irish salmon flies are, on the contrary, expensive; a great deal of the neck and top-knot of the golden pheasant and of the wings of the blue-jay is employed, birds which cost from ten to twenty-five dollars a piece, and which only furnish twenty to thirty pairs of each kind of feathers. The use, therefore, of several long crest and neck feathers at fifty cents a pair in the wing, and five or six from the top-knot for the tail, besides other expensive materials and the employment of the best workmanship, will make a fly dear at the original cost. Blacker, the great English rod and fly maker, has been paid two guineas apiece for his finest. The reader may console himself by remembering that salmon were taken with the fly before the golden pheasant was heard of as one of the indispensable ingredients. A little practice will enable the angler to make flies himself, and add to his sport the consciousness of invention.
Except in that way, and except for salmon fishing, the sportsmen of our country have no time to waste tying flies. The regular shops charge a heavy profit over the amount paid the workman, and if the purchaser is capable of telling a good fly, the best plan is to go direct to the latter, explain what is wanted, and show an interest in the proceeding. A half dozen of each of the foregoing specimens, firmly fastened on strong, round, even gut, will last two months’ daily salmon fishing in well-stocked streams. An average loss of four or five a day would be by no means surprising, although a single one might kill a great many fine fish. Hooks are apt to be broken at the bend by striking against a rock, from carelessness, or the awkward handling of too long a line. If you find a hook broken in that way, lay it primarily to this cause, and watch the sweep of your cast.
After the fly is made, tying it on to the leader and the leader to the line is an important matter, and as it is always desirable to put the right knot in the right place, the following directions may do something toward enabling one to effect that object, and after a little practice will be found entirely intelligible. The gut lengths of the droppers should be short, to prevent their fouling round the leader.
No. 1 and No. 2 are both good ties to fasten the leader to the line. No. 3 is a becket-hitch, and No. 4 a double becket-hitch. No. 5 is a single water knot.
No. 6 is a double water knot. The latter are used for tying lengths of gut together. But recollect that before a knot is made in gut it must be wet, and had better be soaked for some time in warm water. In using the double knot, the ends need not be whipped down. No. 7 shows how a dandy fastens his droppers to the leader. No. 8 shows how a lazy man does the same thing.
No. 10 is a reef, or square knot. No. 11 is a granny knot, and you had better not knot that knot as a reef knot at sea. The former never slips, and yet never jams; the latter always slips and always jams. No. 12 is a bowline, the best knot of all.
No. 13 is a wall. No. 14, a wall and crown; follow the strands round with the ends, and it is a double wall and crown. No. 15, a Mathew Walker, is made by unlaying the strands a sufficient distance, and carrying one end underneath and through its own bight, then the next underneath through the bight of the first and its own bight, and then the third underneath through the bight of the first and second and then its own. No. 16 shows the first strand passed; No. 17 is the finished knot. A diamond knot, No. 18, is made by laying the strands back along the rope, then passing the first end over the second through the bight of the third, the second over the third and through the first, and so on drawing all tight. It may be crowned like a wall.
No. 19 is a sheet bend. No. 20, a studding sail bend. No. 21, a rolling hitch. No. 22, a timber hitch. No. 23, a clove hitch. A whipping is put on as shown by No. 24, by first passing the turns over one end, and then the other end under the last few turns, and drawing it close. No. 25 is called a cat’s paw. These knots will probably be sufficient without adding the hangman’s knot, with its seven professional turns, and a choice among them will often be found convenient, while a glance at the cut will refresh an imperfect recollection.
In tying flies or hooks, it is well to use varnish occasionally, in fact wherever it can be done without injuring the appearance of the colors; no fly will last well that has not been varnished. In making the wings of salmon flies, it is usual to put on numerous fibres, often of different feathers, and tie them on separately. This renders the wings more pliable, but destroys their beauty and harmony. A number of inconsistent colors will injure the effect of one another; the contrast between body and wings should be decided, and the unity and coherence of the latter should be preserved. If the tip of the feather is used and fastened by the stem, it will slip unless firmly secured. There is great difference in the adhesion of the fibres of different feathers, but a little practice will determine the selection.
Black bass flies are generally made with a red body, gold twist, and wings of ibis and white, or black and white, or peacock’s herl and white; but a beautiful and effective fly is made as follows: wings, two plumes of the silver pheasant with two smaller ones of ibis over them; body, blood-red mohair; furnace hackle; blue floss tip; gold tag, and ibis tail.
In salmon fishing it is customary to use but one fly, as two sixteen-pound fish would be troublesome to handle; but occasionally a dropper is added at the upper end of the casting line to attract their attention.
Three flies are sufficient for trout fishing, and are desirable, although frequently failing to hook the fish in consequence of lying on or close to the leader. This is in a measure prevented by short, stiff gut lengths, but when the rises are mainly at the upper flies, many will be missed.
In this connection it may be well to mention that coloring gut, especially for bright, transparent waters, is an error; remember the fish from below look at it against the sky, and will see it the plainer the more it is colored. The less distinguishable to the angler the more apparent it is to them. This can be proved without difficulty, by holding against the light two strands, one plain and the other colored. For salmon, it should, if single, be round and strong; for trout, fine and delicate.
NOTE: Since the above was written, immense strides have been made in this country in the manufacture of fine tackle, while the prices of many articles have been reduced. Our rods, reels and lines are the finest in the world, nothing equal to a split-bamboo rod or an Imbrie reel being produced anywhere. Our lines, both for trout and bass, combine a fineness and strength unknown even in England, which is the birth-place and home of angling.
There is nothing more beautiful, wonderful and interesting than insect life; there is nothing that offers a wider field for examination or affords more gratifying results. Under the head of insects are classed, in popular language, all the minute animals; but only those having six legs and two antennæ, and which undergo one or more changes or metamorphoses should be included; most of them have wings, and their name is derived from the word insecta, divided, which is applied to the divisions or articulations of their bodies. The outer part of their body is slightly bony, and to it the muscles are attached.
Insects exist in myriads; whole families are still undescribed, and many species unknown. Even in the old countries new discoveries are made yearly, and in the New World it can hardly be said that anything is authenticated on the subject. Facts concerning the commonest are most remarkable. One class of white ants, like our southern fellow countrymen, makes slaves of a darker race. Many beautiful flies live only a few hours. The eyes of the common house fly are composed of numerous surfaces or lenses, and their life, habits and instincts are a study in themselves. Being so numerous and so nearly allied, their classification is entirely imperfect, and like a similar attempt with any other part of animal life, a failure. Almost every scientific writer has invented a system of entomological distribution for himself, and their united efforts have produced endless confusion; the arrangement generally followed is that of Latreille, the father of modern entomology.
Insects are by him divided into two great divisions: those that live by chewing, mandibulata, and those that live by sucking, haustellata, whence the name applied to some of the human family. Of the former the beetles, coleoptera, are prominent, and among the latter the butterflies, lepidoptera. It is to be observed that the bees, although furnished with a sucking apparatus to collect honey, feed with mandibles, and are in the first class.
Latreille further divides the various groups as follows; and although English authors have made many changes, the alterations are of such doubtful utility that the original classification will be retained.
The first class is that of insects without wings, such as the thysanura, or those having a bushy tail, which are mandibulate. Parasites or lice, and fleas, both of which are suctional, the last having a metamorphose, but the first two not. All others have wings, but the second class includes those that have a hard covering or case, called an elytron, over their wings; the beetles, which have a horny wing cover and perfect metamorphose; the dermoptera, which have a horny wing cover but an imperfect metamorphose; the orthoptera, or straight-winged insects, their wings folding longitudinally, and having a leathery cover—all of which are mandibulate; and the hemiptera, which have the wings half leathery and half membranous, and the mouth suctorial, and in both of the latter the metamorphose is imperfect. In the third class the wings are naked and alike; it includes the neuroptera, or nerve-winged insects, in which the veins of the wings are like a net; the hymenoptera, the wings being membranous, and veined lengthwise—both families being mandibulate; the lepidoptera, or scale-winged insects, having delicate scales on the wings—this order is suctorial, and the entire three orders have four wings; the rhipiptera, which are mandibulate and have two balances or halteres before the wings which close like a fan, whence their name is derived, and the diptera, which have two halteres behind the wings—in these families there are only two wings.
The orthoptera include, as familiar examples, cockroaches, crickets, katydids, and grasshoppers; the neuroptera white ants, May-flies, caddis-flies, dragon-flies or devil’s darning needles, and hoodlbugs; the hymenoptera common ants, wasps and bees; the lepidoptera butterflies, moths, silk-worms, and humming-birds; the hemiptera plant lice, cochineals, and locusts; the diptera mosquitoes, house-flies, horse-flies, and bot-flies.
The order hemiptera is frequently divided into two, according as the wings are of a uniform texture, homoptera, or of a varied texture, heteroptera; the lepidoptera are divided into three classes—those that fly by day, and generally have the antennæ knobbed; those that fly in the twilight and have the antennæ thickened, and those that are nocturnal and have the antennæ slender. The English writers have transposed the families grillidæ and locustidæ to suit the popular translation of the Scriptures, and have introduced a separate order called trichoptera.
As they are principally minute objects, wise men wisely concluded the deficiency should be made up in length of name, and but one class appears under the weight of less than four syllables. The families composing these orders are almost innumerable, and only those that are allied to the subject in hand can even be mentioned. Amateur entomologists prefer the coleoptera for their beauty and variety, and collections of insects are mainly composed of brilliant, gaudy and wondrous beetles, varying in size from the giant, as large as the pretty fist of one of the reader’s little female acquaintances, to the pigmy that is hardly perceptible to the eye. There is the beautiful and useful lady-bird, the wonderful lightning-bug, the elephant beetle with trunk and tusks, the hercules with stout heavy limbs, the palm weevil, whose disgusting grubs are eaten as delicacies by the deluded people of St. Domingo, and many other dangerous looking fellows with long sharp snouts that are really harmless, and innocent looking fellows that are really dangerous. The fly-fisher, however, relies for his pleasure mainly upon his imitations of the neuroptera and diptera, and not so much upon the coleoptera.
The young of the insect tribe, when it issues from the shell in the shape of a worm, is known as the larva, although the larvæ of some butterflies are called caterpillars, and of certain flies maggots. When the larva begins its metamorphose it is named a pupa or chrysalis, and the covering with which it surrounds itself a pupa-case or cocoon. It then undergoes a wonderful change, becoming the full-formed insect or imago—the ugly worm, that a short time previous had surrounded itself with a silken cocoon, bursting its case and flying off a gay, attractive and resplendent butterfly. From crawling meanly over the ground or the foliage, leaving a slimy streak behind, or horrible with a greenish smooth body and clinging feet, or disgusting with innumerable bristles, it soars away, its gay plumage glittering in the sunlight as it flits from flower to flower, the envy and admiration of the human female sex. How much is there not in beauty!
Many insects live for years as worms, and but a few hours in their perfect state. The ephemeræ, so called from appearing in the morning and dying before night, often do not reach half that age, although if the sexes are separated they will sometimes attain the great age of several weeks. They may be regarded as sacrificing their lives for the tender passion. They cover our waters in Summer, warmed into existence by the sun’s rays, flitting in a graceful but inefficient way from place to place, or floating calmly upon the surface, dropping back into nonentity with the departing sunlight. They are sometimes, especially in the southern country, quite large, and include what among fishermen are known as the May flies.
In some classes the change from the larva is not so remarkable, the worm having much of the appearance, and many of the distinctive marks of the perfect fly, as for example the bee; in these the metamorphose is said to be imperfect. The eyes of insects are either compound, composed of numerous lenses, amounting in certain butterflies to thirty thousand, or simple, called stemmata, the latter alone being found in the larvæ, although in some of the beetles the larvæ have eyes in the head and tail both. They are often long in maturing; one species of locust, as is well known, remains seventeen years before coming to perfection, and many other families continue several years as larvæ. Some of the larvæ live in the earth, some in wood, and others under water; some hide themselves in a cocoon ere their metamorphose is effected, others build houses of stones or sticks, others have no protection; but all are wonderful. One swims upon the water, another walks upon its surface, a third crawls along at the bottom, although the majority live upon dry land. In defence they use a sting, simulate death, eject a poisonous liquid, or emit an offensive smell. The eggs mature in the running or stagnant water, in the ground, in the limbs of trees, in the foliage and stems, or in the fruit. Grasshoppers in the East, grubs among savages, snails among Frenchmen, ants among Brazilians, locusts among prophets, and, if all reports are true, certain minute parasites among Italians, have furnished pleasing and nutritious food.
But of all the marvels of insect life, that which is least consonant with nature and least credible to human understanding, is the fact that they appear spontaneously. “Why should a few drops of rain in a dusty road produce animalculæ never seen before? Why should a little permanent dirt originate two distinct parasites, according as