Collecting fly tying materials - the fun way

10" beard, 1" spurs, and double beard

My buddy Mike and I decided to hunt down some turkey feathers.   Neither of us are serious turkey hunters but we do enjoy it on occasion.  Normally, Spring weekends find me on a river or stream somewhere with a fly rod in hand but this particular morning the generation schedule on the Caney Fork wasn't friendly to fly fishing or at least certainly not wading.  So we dusted off the shotguns, pulled out the camo and hit the woods on a family friends farm about 30 min from the house.  We saw and heard a number of birds.  Called... called some more.  Then called again.  Set up the decoys, then called again.  We tromped all over the hillside chasing these birds.  Finally we heard a hot gobbler and a couple jakes across a creek on the neighbors property... and they were coming our way.  We quickly set up with Mike closer to the decoys.  I wanted him to get the first shot since last time we hunted turkeys he called and I shot the bird.  Well, things don't always go as planned.  He still did most of the calling since he is a much better caller than I but the birds circled wide and didn't give him a shot.  The big tom circled way wide and didn't give either of us a shot.  He went around the other side of the knoll we were on and out of sight.  The jakes were out in front of me but I held off shooting; for one thing they were just a little farther than I felt comfortable (remember I don't turkey hunt much) and I really thought they were going to start working back over towards the decoys and right in front of Mike.  Instead they stayed out in front of me for a short while and then headed back over the creek and away from us.  About that time the big gobbler came back around.  This time I think he saw the decoys and started towards them.  But at about 40 yards out in front of me he started to get nervous and looking my way. I knew he wasn't going to make it over to give Mike a shot.  It was now or never... so I took the shot.  He went down immediately. 

Mike took the primary wing feathers to use for fletchings on his arrows.  He shoots selfbows and wood or rivercane shafts.  And I took the rest of feathers for some of our favorite flies.  We split that delicious turkey meat!

Thanks again Mike!

Greenbriar rainbows and bamboo - April 2009

Back this past April my good buddy and guide Jeff Barrett and I went over the the Smokies to be river helpers for the CFR event. We left a day early to do a little fishing ourselves. Neither of us had ever fished Greenbriar so we decided it was about time. Weather was nice. A few bugs hatched - mostly small stoneflies - and the fish were taking dries. I fished my AJ Thramer 7 1/2' 4 wt DX taper.  I've come to love this rod for small stream fishing.  It can throw a dry/dropper combo without any problem and is just just a joy to cast. 

It was a great day. All we caught were rainbows but no complaints.  We never got up high enough to get into brookie water.  We saved that for next time.

Jeff working some pocket water

A colorful rainbow tricked with a parachute Adams

Smallies on the long rod

I love catching smallmouth bass on the fly rod. They hit the fly HARD, fight better than any largemouth ever thought about, and will jump like wild rainbows. Growing up in Florida I'd never caught a smallmouth until after I moved up here. The first one I caught was almost an accident. I'd been catching a mix of small largemouth, redeye, and bluegill then all the sudden I had what I thought was a nice largemouth... 2-3 pounds maybe. What I found when I finally got it in was about one pound, maybe less, smallmouth bass. I've been in love ever since.

Over the last three or four years I've been trying to do more smallmouth fishing; trying to learn more about where, when, and how to catch them with the fly rod. It's been a fun learning experience. And this past Sunday was REALLY fun.

Woody and I motored up the mouth of a small creek he's fished for years. We motored past all the deeper slower water and past all the largemouth fishermen in their bassboats that I have no doubt cost 20 times what Woody paid for his 70's vintage 12' john boat and 7 & 1/2 horse motor. We motored up until we could motor up no more. Then we dragged the boat over a shallow shoal and beached it on an island. Then we started fishing. And boy was the fishing good.

Right off the bat I caught a small smallmouth. Then Woody hooked into and lost two, one right after the other, smallies that looked like they would have been 2 pounds or better. I was fishing a green and white gurgler and he was fishing a streamer. It didn't take me long to switch to a streamer. I tied on a pattern that he tied up derived from a red faced dace and a crystal bugger put together. It was fantastic! We started catching (and losing) smallmouth after smallmouth, running the streamers right along the weed line where there was current and in the deeper runs right below shoals and riffles. It seemed that everywhere you thought a smallmouth should be, they were there.

I was fishing a particular run and Woody was just up stream fishing another when all the sudden I heard him whooping and hollering that he had a BIG one. I looked up just in time to see his 6 weight rod bent way over and then suddenly go straight. I thought he was going to cry right there on the stream bank. Woody's not one to exaggerate and he's caught plenty of fish from his bass tournament days that he knows how to estimate weight. He said it would have gone 3 pounds, maybe more and I believe him. I've seen him lose a number of fish and I've never seen him that upset about losing one before. But I guess if we landed every fish we hooked into it wouldn't be as exciting and we wouldn't keep coming back.

We continued to fish up stream a ways and we both caught some really nice fish as far as I'm concerned. In one run alone we caught about 7 or 8 fish. I caught what was probably my best smallmouth yet which we guessed at little more than 2 pounds.

After wading back down to the boat and eating lunch, we put the boat back in the water and drifted back down stream. We fished the slower water and threw our flies to all the submerged trees and structure that might hold largemouth and caught a good number of them. I even managed to land a nice largemouth... and all I could think was, "if that largemouth would have been a smallmouth, that would have been one hell of a fight!"

Brookies from new water with old friends

A buddy of mine, Jim, and I have been talking about fishing the upper section of a particular headwater steam in search of brookies for a long time. He gets up there once or twice a year or so but I had never fished it. Well all the planets finally aligned (along with our schedules) and he and I finally got to go up there, along with another buddy of mine, Woody. It's a section of stream that takes about a 2 mile hike in, all down hill. Which of course means all up hill coming out. Never the less, its not really a bad hike at all.

The three of us packed a lunch, our wading boots, and filter bottles and dropped in from the top. I was wondering what kind of fishing we'd find with last years drought. I'd seen a difference in the lower sections of the streams in this particular watershed; lesser numbers and smaller trout. So if we'd be able to catch a few and they looked healthy then I'd be happy.

On the way down the logging trail to the stream the mountain laurel and flame azalea were in full bloom. And the woods were full of them both. That alone was almost worth the hike in.

After negotiating our way down the steep hill side into the stream (sometimes on our butts), we found decent water level. Maybe still a little lower than "average" but certainly not like last summer. The real test was when we put a fly on the water. And the first fish was a small rainbow - WHAT! We're supposed to be in brookie water!

Jim said, "Oh, we may have gone a little too far down stream. I didn't remember it being that hard to get down in here." We climbed the water fall in front of us and started fishing again, hoping that that was the barrier that kept the rainbows from coming up any further. And it was. The rest of the day we caught nothing but brookies. All on dry flies of course. And as brookies go, they weren't too picky about what fed them, just that you didn't spook them first. We used EHC, stimulators, parachute adams, sulfurs; you name it we through it at them and they hit. I love brookies!

We fished to the point we started running out of water and where the trail from the top met the stream; so we figured that was a good place to get out. Besides we were tired. It's not the fishing that tires you out but the trail hiking, hill sliding, boulder climbing, and rock hopping that will do that to you.

On the way out, hiking back up the mountain side to the truck we saw a momma bear with two cubs. OK, now THAT was worth the hike in even without the fishing. You don't get to see bears often, even though they are around and there are plenty of them, they are just that secretive, at least outside the GSMNP.

We caught a decent number of fish that day and a few nice size one's too, you know in the 7-8 inch range. Nothing really big but it was better than I expected given the historic drought we had last year. I'd like to give this stream a couple of summers of good rain fall and see how we do then; and you can bet I will... as long as mother nature ever gives us some water back.