Fishing for trout with flies is like solving a puzzle. The current, the fish, the bugs under the surface and in the air — at times it can seem indecipherable.
But the clues are there if you slow down long enough to see them.
If you want to catch more trout, start by understanding three insects: stoneflies, mayflies and caddis flies.
There are many species within each group, each identified by color, size, behavior and the times of year they emerge. When they do — what fly fishers call a “hatch” — trout can go on a feeding frenzy. But they can also be very selective. That’s when anglers put aside streamer patterns and try to match the hatch.
A hatch might last minutes or hours each day, stretching over several days or a week. It often happens with little fanfare — just the occasional swooping bird or the rings of a rising trout. A kind of silent opera playing out on the water. You have to look carefully, return often and give it time before it starts to make sense.
Stoneflies
Stoneflies spend most of their lives crawling along the bottom of the stream as nymphs. The larger species eventually crawl out along the edges of rocks and logs to hatch. If you look along boulders in a river like the Magalloway, you’ll often find their empty shucks clinging to the surface.
Because of this, one of your best chances to imitate them is during their nymph stage. Trout feed on these nymphs throughout the year, finding them drifting with the current, clinging to rocks and crawling along the bottom.
Fly fishers imitate them by adding weight, allowing flies to sink and bounce along the bottom with the current. As the hatch progresses, adults emerge and begin hovering over the water or darting back to lay eggs. When they do, a twitch of a stonefly imitation on the surface can trigger strike after strike.
Mayflies
Mayflies also begin as nymphs, but unlike stoneflies, they usually rise from the bottom and emerge at or near the surface. That moment — when they’re breaking free of their nymphal shells — is when they are most vulnerable, and trout key in on it.
That’s why emerger patterns can be so effective.
After emerging, mayflies sometimes float for a time while drying their wings, looking like miniature yachts tacking in the current. In this stage, called a “dun,” they hold their wings upright. Trout will sip them gently from the surface.
Later, they molt again, mate in swarms and fall back to the water as “spinners,” where trout feed on them once more.
If you’re seeing slow, deliberate rises — gentle rings on the water — there’s a good chance trout are feeding on mayflies.
Caddis flies
Caddis are different.
As larvae, they build small cases from sand, sticks or stones and crawl along the bottom. When they mature, they pupate and then shoot quickly toward the surface, often emerging and flying off almost immediately.
Because of that, trout don’t sip them the way they do mayflies. They slash at them.
If you’re seeing splashy, aggressive rises, caddis are likely on the water.
Western Maine is a caddis-rich environment, and nearly all rivers and streams have prolific populations.
Reading the water
Trout feed on all stages of these insects — nymphs, emergers and adults — and they don’t always make it easy.
One fish might be taking nymphs below the surface. Another might key in on emergers. A third might only rise to duns. And they can switch at any time.
To make things more complicated, multiple hatches often overlap as the season progresses.
That’s when anglers start shaking their heads while fish continue rising around them.
It can be difficult to distinguish whether mayflies, caddis or stoneflies are hatching. So if you see someone hopping from rock to rock, arms swinging wildly in the air, they’re not some wild man of the woods. They’re just a fly fisher trying to capture an insect in flight.
Less can be more
When I was younger, I carried every conceivable imitation in my fly vest. Eventually, it became so weighed down with fly boxes that I couldn’t remember what pocket contained which flies. One winter, in a sudden burst of inspiration, I labeled each pocket so I could find what I needed just by looking down.
I remember thinking how clever I was.
Sometime during that season an old guy in a pair of patched hippers passed by. He didn’t have a fly vest, just a small box of flies in the chest pocket of his flannel shirt. As he looked me over, a smile crept over his lips.
“Son, you must have been a helluva boy scout,” he said.
He was right.
I was carrying flies for hatches that hadn’t started yet, flies for bugs that had long since come and gone and even patterns for stoneflies found only in Montana.
Over time, I learned to simplify. Break the season down into weeks. Carry only what matches what’s happening at that particular time.
There are books that can help with timing, and keeping a diary is even better. Write down what you see, including water levels, insects and how fish are rising. Return often to the same stream. It may take a year or so, but if you keep at it, you’ll start to see patterns.
Start small
If you’re just getting started, think about leaving the larger rivers and finding a smaller stream.
On big rivers with abundant insect life, trout can be extremely selective. On smaller streams, especially those backwoods little rills, fish are often less picky. They don’t have the luxury.
On those waters, I carry a single pill box in my shirt pocket with just a handful of flies. A pheasant-tail dry can imitate most mayflies. A couple elk-hair patterns will cover caddis and small stoneflies. Add a wet fly or two and you’re set.
It’s simple. And more often than not, it works.
And if you see me on the stream, stop and say hello.
I’ll be the old guy in patched hippers without a fly vest.
