THERE ARE a large number of anglers who set their efforts in a concise and specialized path. Defining oneself singularly as a trout fisherman or bass angler might suggest a fine-tuned skill set but may also limit opportunity and close a few doors when it comes to outdoor activities.
I consider myself a well-rounded outdoorsman and enjoy catching perch on a worm and bobber as much as I do catching sea-run salmon on a number 22 dry fly. I have stated many times that if it swims and eats, I will try to catch it.
Because of this attitude, my fishing season never ends. There is not a month in the year that I am not somehow engaged in my favorite activity.
Taking such a broad approach to angling also allows for some overlap in seasons, species and techniques.
Thanksgiving time is typically one of my most productive weeks for fly tying. After stuffing myself to the point of significant lethargy, I usually retire to my fly tying bench in an effort to avoid cleaning up the kitchen or doing dishes. It has worked surprisingly well for me.
My tying bench is located within sight and earshot of the television. Many flies are put together while the Red Sox battle it out or, in this case, the Thanksgiving football games are played, which help with a slow digestion and avoidance of chores.
I have a large number of flies and catalog the new ones in boxes that, to the outside observer, are already full. This allows me to share and trade with some of my other fly-tying fishing buddies and helps bolster my supply from my son’s frequent thefts.
This year’s Thanksgiving session involved an overlap in fishing methods that I have not yet explored. On the advice of a friend, I decided to tie some small, heavy flies that I will soon use for ice fishing.
The theory behind my unorthodox plan is that fish eat insects at all times of the year. When I am trying to convince a cold fish to eat something at the end of my jigging rod, a 3-inch, shiny piece of metal may be too much and serve as a significant turn-off to weary fish.
Instead, I am going to try to finesse early-season fish like perch and pickerel with something a little more subtle. What would typically be described as “flies” are now going to be “jigs” and they will be twitched and fluttered as if they were strange, insect delicacies ready to be chomped on by hungry predators.
As mentioned, insects exist in the water on a year-round basis. Sometimes they are buried in the mud, sometimes they are crawling across rocks, and sometimes they are swimming aimlessly toward their eventual demise.
The underwater winter world can be a bleak one. Conditions are often dark, there are no quick movements, and food is scarce. With this in mind, I decided to create some absurd insects that may only exist in the mind of a mad scientist. I used neon green, sparkling orange, and added a crystal tail to almost everything. These flies need to sink quickly and a tungsten bead adds weight and even more flash.
I am not sure how my newly designed ice fishing flies will work but they allow me to use a broad skill set to target fish in a new way. The results may be just bad enough that I end up doing the dishes next Thanksgiving instead of tying flies.
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