Midway through winter, I’ve come down with a bad case of the brook trout blues.
Seated on our Kubota tractor, pushing 16 inches of snow from the front of the barn, I think of those May afternoons when the ice has finally left the lakes, trilliums are in bloom and a batch of fiddleheads sizzles on the camp stove. Rivers and streams are running fast and high with snowmelt and spring rains.
During the latter two weeks of what the poet John Clare called the queen of months, brook trout and landlocked salmon leave the lakes and enter the rivers following western Maine’s principal baitfish on their spawning run. Soon after, suckers begin their own spawn.
Patterns imitating smelts and sucker eggs are what you need to catch the attention of those 16-inch-and-larger fish I’ve been thinking about while clearing this blasted snow.
Egg patterns are highly effective in the early season when trout and landlocked salmon line up to grab the eggs suckers broadcast along the streambed. Since the fish are focused near the bottom, an angler skilled at casting nymphs will also find success. Having failed to master nymph fishing, I prefer to cast streamer patterns in the early season.
The Black Ghost, a streamer first tied by Herbert Welch in the 1920s, is one of my go-to smelt imitations during the weeks after ice-out. Streamers with white wings seem to trigger fish during this time of year, when the weather can shift from sunshine to squalls of icy rain. Perhaps that is why Welch’s Black Ghost works as well today as it did when he first tied it.
Saddle hackle is used to construct the wings of many streamers, including the Black Ghost. If a wing isn’t tied properly behind the hook eye, it will twirl unnaturally when stripped through the water.
To avoid this, I had three choices: learn to tie the streamer properly, buy my patterns from a reputable tyer or substitute marabou feathers for saddle hackle. I chose the third option. Marabou usually ensures a balanced wing, avoiding problems caused by poorly tied saddle hackle. Its undulating motion also adds extra appeal for enticing strikes.
The Soft Hackle Streamer is another effective pattern. The late Jack Gartside, one of the most innovative modern fly tyers, formed the wing of this creation with a single marabou feather. Tied in white, it’s deadly in the early season.
The secret lies in how the wing is wound across the hook shank. Videos online demonstrate various methods, but I recommend following Gartside’s original instructions, which are still available on his website.
I’ve discussed the Soft Hackled Streamer with several local guides, and they agree it seems to attract really big fish. On more than one occasion, I was reeling in a small trout when my fly rod bent toward the stream’s surface and the line zinged across the pool. Wondering whether that little fish had just finished his bowl of Wheaties, I watched a brute of a brook trout turn tail, spitting out the smaller fish at the last moment.
Each time this happened, I snipped the fly knotted to my tippet and replaced it with a streamer. But when I cast into the pool, the larger fish was nowhere to be found.
This was true until a few years back, when I watched what appeared to be a ghostly apparition rise from a tannin-stained run to attack the smaller fish I’d hooked. As was my practice, I released the battered tiddler and replaced the fly with a streamer, but this time it was Gartside’s Soft Hackle Streamer. To my surprise, on my first cast the apparition once again materialized. After a hair-raising fight, a 19-inch brook trout ended up in my net.
Another interesting pattern is the Parachute Wing Smelt. This creation of Lou Zambello, a registered Maine guide and author, may entice a trout or salmon looking for an easy meal. In his book, “Flyfishing Northern New England’s Seasons,” Zambello explains that at first glance the pattern may appear to be an over-sized dry fly. Tied in white on a streamer hook, it’s meant to imitate a dead or dying smelt floating on the surface.
During those few weeks in May, rivers run high, which can slam smelt against boulders and other obstructions. Adding to the risk are wounds from passing trout or salmon.
If, like me, you’re suffering from a bad case of the Brook Trout Blues, put down the snow shovel and spend some time by the woodstove tying a few of these proven patterns. After all, May is not all that far away.
