Dear Nameless Angler,

That sickening pop followed by the absent splash probably caused you to curse mightily. I’m hoping you had plenty more tied – but also wanted you to know you’re not guilty of leaving brightly colored non-biodegradable waste on the riverbank for some innocent doe to ingest, cough her life out in a bloody paroxysm, and lie there rotting…

That neon Orange bow serving caught my eye as I was dragging my aching rear end out of the line – feeling that five hours of eight weight is how Nolan Ryan’s arm feels after nine innings and a third comeback…

Recognizing real genius when I see it, I pocketed your sample and husbanded it back to the tying bench for massive duplication.

Like all selfless anglers, I was tempted to name it the “Singlebarbed Invented This All By His Lonesome Fly” – but small shreds of decency remain and I’m required to give credit where credit’s due.

Your fly is elegant, simple, sinks like a tramp steamer after a mating dance with an iceberg – and appeals to Shad in a sinister and potentially sexual manner.

Since you invented it, you should be ashamed of yourself.

You’ve placed an entire species on the brink of extinction, and even though I’m ass deep in cold water exploiting your fly at this very moment, the first warden that comes by and crooks his finger at me, I’m gonna rat you out.

Then I’ll make like Vanilla Ice and claim I never sampled your fly or David Bowie, and change the tail by a half shade – achieve fame everlasting and stomp life out of an entire species.

P.S. I found my spool of serving (circa 1985) – but was horrified to find the Brownell folks have switched to braided Dyneema, and no longer make the monofilament flavor.

If you would be so kind, drop me a note with your substitute – anywhere along the Sacramento or American would be fine…