It’s a systematic exploitation of every living thing in the watershed, and in pursuit of large fish – it’s best to leave no stone unturned.

I’m on the second “alpha” prototype – struggling with how to make the head wider without altering the physics or causing some instability in construction. “Wider” has always been the nemesis of fly tying as hook shanks are narrow and bodies have to be bulked up using benign materials; you can’t use bulky materials that float if you’re designing a sinking fly, and vice versa.

They’re constantly underfoot so I’ll assume they’re eaten with the same enthusiasm shown by Herons and Egrets. The ATV crowd mashes a million of them at every river crossing – guts, fins, eyeballs, and stunned tadpoles tumble down into the deep water routinely.

I’m fiddling with the details of retrieve, silhouette and weight. I’d describe the naturals as a muted brown streak that instantly buries itself when its flight is complete. I pile on the lead, fling it at the far bank, count two – then give it a yard long pull.

One large bass pulled the line out of my hands on the take – so he thought it looked good. A half dozen smaller bass ate it so there was some small consensus. Pikeminnow haven’t touched it yet, but with only a couple outings that’s not proof of much.

Tied on the above kirbed Togen Scud hook, and weighted to ride upside down; shank filled with 2 Amp fuse wire, broadened with chenille tied in on the sides, and cover the result with “Sable” boa yarn (mixed brown and gold).

Rain is in the forecast which will cut into the ATV hatch, I may sneak out between showers this weekend for more conclusive testing.

It’s one of those luxuries we’ve all enjoyed, parking within proximity to a thriving business and leisurely gearing up as all the fishermen within either burst into tears, or shake their fist at you.

Yesterday was Veteran’s Day, and I had a pocket full of experimentals to try out – overcast and clouds present but high enough not to threaten me with much moisture.

“Fatty” intercepted the second Matuka with a vengeance, I had to marvel at his grit, exactly what is a six inch fish going to do with a four inch minnow? It’s sitting down to a five foot long hero sandwich; you may be really hungry – but outside of dribbling meat and tomato slices down your shirt front – what’s the point?

The “transitional crayfish” were well received. I’d mixed a strand of Orange and a strand of Olive on the LSO – giving it some color reminiscent of the red crawdads. As red hasn’t claimed a victim, the  question, “is it the color or the size?” remains unanswered.

I hit a half dozen nice fish on the Olive and Orange mixture, implying the color is acceptable.

This suggests the red version should have no issue, but it’s size may be offputting.

I’d brought a Magnum Little Stinking Olive, tied on the same hook the red uses – both flies are identical in size, and only colors differ.

The Magnum had the identical reception as it’s smaller cousin. I tied the dry bug on and flipped it at a rock on the far bank, it sank smartly despite my removing half the lead. I gave it one twitch and five pounds of Pikeminnow leaps out of the water with the Magnum down its gut.

I guess “size does matter” – as I’ve fished through this stretch a dozen times without laying eyes on this monster. Pikeminnow are long thin fish, and this fellow is about five pounds, and nearly 27″ long.

With only a single Giant Olive, I fish really carefully from then on.

The stretch below yielded another Pikeminnow of nearly the same size and a half dozen nice bass – making me wonder whether the two species aren’t fighting over the darn crawdads.

I didn’t have the courage to try the big red, husbanding the sole Olive flavor until the rain interrupted both me and the fellow shaking his fist from the gravel conveyer up above.

He must’ve been shouting encouragement – or bemoaning his lack of vacation day.