When you choose a fly, you make a choice. . .
Now, that statement is redundant and even insulting to you, the reader, but it is what it is. . .a choice.
That choice will determine your success in fly-fishing at that particular time.
This is one of the great, great things about fly-fishing: you determine, so much, your success, in a moment, in minutes, hours and even the day you are on the water.
So many thoughts and actions contribute to your success:
Your experience;
Those who tried to teach you;
Those who sought to influence you;

Those whom you let teach and influence you.
You see, you can purchase knowledge in fly-fishing — it is called a fly shop.
It is a place where your answers lie, in small, square plastic bins.
The contents of such allow you to fish, but even if you have the “right” fly on the end of your leader, and you are in the right place, at the right time — success is not guaranteed.
You can buy what you need to improve your odds for success, but your approach — now, this is where things get interesting.
So often we were taught (at least I was) that you must be quiet when you fish. You know, you can’t talk loudly — it will scare the fish.
Well, that’s bull.
You can talk as loudly as you want, and I’m sure you have often heard people at ponds, lakes, or rivers talking among themselves as if no one can hear them. Well, everyone hears them, and it is an irritation. It is.
But when it comes to irritating the fish you want to catch, your steps, how you interact with the environment, the water — those are what matter most if you want to succeed.
Fish feel. Of course, I do not know this from piscatory conversation, but science and practical experience bear it out.

An errant step in calm water sending out wave after wave of “noise” in the watery world you are not naturally a part of — well, the fish know, and many if not all are gone before you can make your meager offering at the end of your fly line.
This is the beauty of our pursuit. . .
You can throw a stick of lit dynamite into a beaver pond and scoop up all the fish you kill — one time.
We know this. . .
But to capture one beautiful fish with enticement and a perfectly timed approach — and do it time after time — well, that makes the human ride all the more rewarding. . .especially after you release the fish.
Such simple yet complex endeavors make this life worth the living and grinding.
Maybe I will see you on the water.


a black wooly bugger

About The Author

Patrick "Murph" Murphy

Patrick Murphy or "Murph" as we call him around the office is a former newspaper man, and currently an author of books and blogs. He is an appreciator of all things natural and avid fisherman.

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