Category Archives: Fly Tying

Heavy Metal fly tying, we’ll let the EPA stew on a brass ban

It goes without saying that fishing in Minnesota has been denied me. Roughfisher and I split the entire world of fly tying between us, he gets all the Tungsten in North America, and I can have an occasional dry fly hackle …

… maybe, and only if he gets to pick which one.

In the face of true Genius, I had to risk it all …

Hatches Magazine sent an email featuring some of their latest patterns, and the above Chain Gang Stonefly (by Dean Myers) is to die for …

The fact that it weighs a quarter-pound will only be off-putting to the dry fly contingent, who’ll wish they had a dozen or two when they meet that shadowy plunge pool with the rock overhang. The self-same pool that defies a good drift – because of the speed and direction of current.

I recognize it’s one of those must have flies that offers access to the dark depths where that enormous and cagey 13” lunker calls home, denying the lie to all the 10” pretenders.

I would think the steelhead crowd just went into salivate as well.

Chain_Gang_Espresso_Claret

As I saw it first I’m allowed a bit of artistic license – somber and its steelhead cousin, tied in Espresso-Claret spectral. I simplified the pattern as this is a fly you’ll snag in quantity.

I just want to see Roughfisher eat his cork grip when he sees the gravitational pull of Brass as it blows past his Tungsten enroute to an impact crater in the creek bed.

Some flies you lay eyes on and rush to the vice, this being just the ticket to send the most jaded tier scrambling for colored bead chain. Significant out-of-the-box thinking on the part of Mr. Myers.

Chicken Scalps, large dollars, fly tying and dry flies merely add a pretty face

grizz Many would say that nothing in fly fishing is more addictive, the lure of the surface fly and the visual take. Most would insist that no component of fly tying is more expensive, as the surface fly and accompanying visuals come at a horrific price.

A novice stands in front of the abyss, the friends and expertise of the fly tying class a distant memory, the cautionary advice forgotten, and the long wall of genetic hackle menacing, unfamiliar, and incredibly expensive.

Need is well defined; brown and grizzly for the Adams, Humpy, and Western flies, ginger for the light Cahill, and medium dun for the Quill Gordon and most of the east coast. Price precludes grabbing one of everything, and there are a dozen capes labeled #2, each the better part of a hundred dollar bill – whose shade and cut look similar, only which one to buy?

Is someone going to yell if you take one out of the package? Do I really want to learn to tie flies? The book said to press the barbules against my lower lip, the instructor said to buy saddles, and that fellow mentioned Leon’s Coque made the best tails – I don’t seem him anywhere, and the sinister looking fellow at the register doesn’t seem interested …

… I could use some help!

Forums are ablaze with questions about hackle; where is it cheapest, which is the best-est, and how can I get the most-est – interspersed with; which do I want, what should I get first, are saddles just as good, and the ever-present, “… the guy in the book said …”

Like everything else on the Internet, there’s much wheat and even more chaff.

Chicken Necks – Past to Present

Compared to the past there is much less variety on the wall of the local shop. Most fly tiers are introduced to genetic chickens in their first tying lesson, and rarely encounter capes from China and India – which dominated the trade in year’s past.

Most of the non-genetic hackle goes to the costume market, where they’re made into long feather boas in both natural and brightly dyed colors. India capes are about a third the size of our hormone laced genetics, and Chinese capes are typically about 50% larger than India necks, but still markedly smaller than what Whiting packages.

Occasionally you’ll run across some in fly fishing stores, but not often. Instead you’ll find Chinchilla necks, that mimic the color and pattern of Grizzly, but have irregular barring and a hint of brown in the black markings. As large grizzly hackles have many uses including bass and saltwater flies – and are adored by costumers, it’s the most common non-genetic sold.

As well as the Indian or Chinese capes, you can encounter a semi-genetic flavor. Some grower that’s attempting to perfect a strain or color to compete with Whiting, whose flock is not yet into that rarified zone commanding ultra-high dollars. These are often Grizzly also, as dyed Grizzly in any size or length is quite saleable.

Packaged saddle hackle is still dominated by non-genetic chickens, in large part because eating chickens are raised by the millions and all are white, or off-white, much easier to dye than naturally colored chickens from off shore. Most are hens, but white roosters still abound in great numbers. Genetic roosters must be fed and pampered for two or more years to yield those foot-long saddles, our domestic rooster is likely to live about half as long before it becomes a MSM chicken.

“MSM” is “mechanically separated meat” – which is a process that yanks non-prime elements like lips, snouts, and pucker off the bone once it’s been boiled into softness. It’s commonly known as a Chicken McNugget, or Hot Dog.

Many shades of Awesome

Parts of a Genetic Neck Today’s tiers still insist on the finest, cheapest, and best – but they’re picking between “great” and “fantastic” in comparison with the past. Dry flies always required two (or more) hackles in the 80’s, and a typical size #16 was about 1.5” long.

If you were lucky there was a couple dozen in the inch wide nape of India cape, unlucky and you tied mostly #12’s and above.

The worst of todays genetics would have driven tiers into paroxysm’s of joy. It would of been something to stroke or trot out to the amazement of the rest of the crowd, left pristine or given a female name and worshiped.

Those vendors that grade necks – and mention their methodology – use feather count to determine #1’s, #2’s, and #3’s. More feathers per inch yielding more flies tied, and increased value to both breeder and fly tyer. The grade given by the breeder can be ignored. Simple feather count may be useful to differentiate one chicken from another, but it’s not an adequate measure of value to the fly tyer.

Fly tier’s are unique. Each is a different mix of favorite flies, favorite fish, number tied per year, and most common size fished. While feather count has some meaning, so does cut of the neck, color of the cape, and shape and size of the feathers too large for dry flies.

Cut of the Neck: An improper cut usually comes at the expense of the tailing material. Tails are from the right and left edge of the neck’s shoulder, markedly darker and stiffer than the rest of the cape, shaped like a “spade” versus long and skinny, and can be too few to tail all the dry flies the hackle can produce.

Color of the Cape: Color is responsible for probably half of the purchases, especially if the color is uncommon or rare. Color would also describe other visual features such as dark barring, light barring, or black tipped – such as Badger and Furnace necks. Dun necks are particularly valuable in different shades, and is often purchased for the color alone.

Shape and Size of the Feather: Genetic necks make poor hackle tip wings, largely because of the narrowness of the feather. At the tip a slim feather can be quite small and the effect lost amid a thickly hackled fly, especially on Western flies which use much more hackle than their Eastern counterparts. Some genetics can offer a wider large feather which may be suitable for hackle tip wings, and this quality weighed in the purchase decision.

Feather Count: It matters certainly, but is best used to select a candidate tuned to your fishing, not the single criteria that drives purchase. (I’ll have more on the subject below)

How to select the best Neck

The most common size tied should be high on the neck, not down at the narrows Most fly fishermen tie many more flies than the traditional dry, and often fish for other species in addition to trout. It should be no surprise that there are many great necks offered on the rack, but the best neck may have qualities unique to the tyer, with “best” differing from one angler to the next.

The dry fly capable hackle may only be spread over 30% of the genetic cape, why not consider the other 70% as part of an overall grade?

If the tier has a split season, or fishes for multiple species, the shape of the large feathers may dictate his steelhead hackle, bass poppers, or his large saltwater flies. Some necks may be suited for tying these flies more so than others, based on long narrow feathers, or extra wide webby hackles, or just wide blunt tips for wings. A fly tyer conscious of his planned double-use may find the best neck is a combination of his dry fly needs, coupled with his other interests.

… and the grading system used to price the necks, has less value when averaging all the requirements.

You have to remove the neck from the packaging to examine it closely. There should be no objection from the shop staff, but you’ll have to be considerate and not mangle the cape in the process. Both necks and saddles are often stapled to cardboard backing. Flexing the cape a lot will start pulling at the staples – and may even add a bend into both feathers and backing. Your proprietor will not mind a casual exam, but would prefer your hammy-handed tendencies not mar the package permanently.

Each fisherman has a “most common dry fly size” that he uses, and an examination of his fly box will reveal what size that is – this will be our examination criteria for neck selection.

Find the most common size used : Flex the neck just enough so that the feathers lift off those behind, and find the horizontal line on the neck containing your unique “most tied” size. A great neck will have that area in the widest part of the cape, not down low on the narrow isthmus area. Wide equals more feathers, and ensures your most common flies fished match the neck you’re purchasing. It’s very simple, as higher up the cape means better in every cases.

Examine the tailing area : Now examine the shoulders of the cape to ensure the cut has preserved both areas of darker tailing material – and the two regions appear as mirrors of one another.

Examine the larger feathers for optimal uses : Take a look at the shape and size of the larger feathers at the top of the cape. Ensure they match any other use you’ve planned. For hackle tip wings you want broad rounded points, for steelhead hackles you’ll want nice dark barring and the appropriate sizes present, bass poppers should have nice wide feathers to assist in moving water, and saltwater or Pike – perhaps length is the only criteria.

Ensure the color extends to the webby area : On those necks where color is a primary requirement, ensure the desired color extends down through the area you’ll peel off and discard. Avoid those whose color at the tips is perfect – but the color doesn’t extend far enough down the feather.

If you’ve satisfied the criteria above and selected the neck that’s the best fit for all, you’ve got a great neck. Now look at the price, as vendor grade and price is the least important of all.

If it boils down to a #3 and a #1 that are the final two, buying the #3 will the better choice … “a good deal” being the last check on our requirements.

The Neck versus Saddle debate is Over

A Whiting Medium Dun Saddle Necks are no longer as compelling as a quality saddle patch. If you’ve marveled over a 12” #16 hackle you’ll understand what I mean. Necks have been considerably refined from the days of the India cape, but saddles have come even further, to the point where #16 hackles can be a foot long – or even longer.

A quality neck may feature 30 or more hackles that match a single size, perhaps another 15-20 that are a bit too long, or a bit too short. Assuming you get about 50 feathers suitable for a #14, and it’s often one feather per dry fly, the neck has exhausted the supply after four dozen flies.

Take a similar quality saddle with hackles 10-11 inches long, and you can get 3-4 traditional dries with a single feather. If a saddle has more than a dozen such feathers you’ve equaled the capacity of the more expensive neck, and whatever remains is why saddles are a better deal than necks.

I’d suggest that a quality saddle can produce 15-20 dozen flies in the same size versus 4 dozen for the cape.

I converted to saddles some three years ago, the down side being there’s no tool or container on the bench to hold scraps of hackle that’s seven inches long …

But nothing is the Perfect Feather

Saddles offer greater value, but there are pros and cons with both necks and saddles, and it’s important to understand all the issues.

Necks:

Stiffer stems, greater variety of sizes, tailing material present, wider feathers, blunter tips, hackle under size #18 available.

Saddles:

Flexible stems, fewer sizes, longer length, no tailing material present, narrower feathers, needle tips, no hackle under #18 available.

Each of the attributes mentioned above has a corollary in tying that will either be hindered or assisted. Probably the most important difference between necks and saddles is that no tailing material exists on saddles where it is plentiful on necks. Perhaps the fibers on the largest saddles can be long enough for tails, but they are not the hard, shiny, fibers present on the shoulder of a chicken neck – they are much softer by comparison.

Having dozens of left over capes lying around, most of which are missing the small trout hackle, means that I can find tails on older necks and use the saddle only for the hackle that supports the fly.

In summary, a tyer needs both – but necks are likely to be upstaged by saddles via cost and additional capacity.

While genetic feathers show no signs of relinquishing their grip on the hackle market, there is still plenty of uses for a non genetic neck or saddle, only they’re becoming increasingly hard to find. Both hackle tip wings (Grizzly) and large well marked feathers are still in great demand on many styles of fly, and while we get increasingly spoiled with better and longer hackles, we’ll still need plenty of the regular feathers to handle the ignoble tasks other than holding up a dry fly.

Each fly could be a big fish or a new friend

I’ve tried to hold the worst of the excess until you knew me better. Only then could I count on an outpouring of sympathy, versus the clamor of naked greed …

An earlier post referencing a subtle quirk, a brace of delicates for you to view, and exiting on a high note, leaving little trace of the sordid frenzy to follow.

There’s no such thing as a retired commercial tier, there’s only those that still do it – and those that still do it but don’t get paid.

I emptied out my “done during lunch” box to add to those already tied last weekend, and staring at all them Claret & Olive Clods it dawned on me that while I hadn’t detected noticeable change in the before commercial versus the after, I think setting them fingers on automatic might have changed the definition of “enough.”

Considering they’re all a single size and I’ve got three other sizes to replace, I should make plenty of new friends next season.

It’s the same scene with experimentals, unless there’s a fistful available something’s wrong. Which may shed light on why I talk so much of skeins, grosses, pallets and thousands, we both do the same thing, only I consume a bit more.

Something to think about when you mull the idea of defraying the cost of that new rod with a few dozen for the local shop. The next step might be everlasting.

It’s the most expensive “Caddis” in the world, and fly tiers are determined to kill it dead

I was in a hurry naturally, so I grabbed a pelt off the latest shipment and sheared the beast on the spot. Plastic container brimming with fur I rushed back into the kitchen, refastened the jumper cables to the grinder and glanced skyward, hoping for another lightning bolt.

Gals have it easy. They say “ … maybe” and create life. Guys are forced to wade in dead stuff, endure hellish amperages and archaic lab apparatus, then peer hesitantly at our efforts and wish we’d stopped when it needed stitches…

That's one expensive Caddis, Pal

With 20 eager fly tiers expecting more samples of Singlebarbed’s Madness – and me thinking another six colors would be enough, 120 packs of fur is a weekend of hand labor.

I’m in between pack 86 and the finish line, and reach down into the jug to see a moth emerge from that freshly shorn pile.

Nice.

I shook some moth ice into the container, sealed it, and put it in quarantine.

Packs 1 through 86 went into the trash.

Normally I’m proof against such things, as “invasives” are just a fly shop visit away. In the old days every shop had unwanted lifeforms and us budding entomologists weren’t limited to aquatic bugs, we could rattle off genus, species, and the address of the source with a single glance …

Big brown speckled sucker with a yen for Bucktail? Yep, that’s from Creative Sports in Walnut Creek, they call ‘em ‘Shallow Flapping Retail Duns.’ “

Moth eggs being teensy little things capable of trickling into every crack and crevasse – it’s only a matter of time before something hungry starts on the pile of undefended in the back room.

As mentioned many times, jobbers have replaced all those caches of local material, but rest assured they’re infected too – it’s part and parcel of storing so much tasty, if you stack it, They will come.

As we’re a well known hoarder, where net value is measured in pounds versus square inches, I’ve had my share of strange looks at the dinner table – especially after the fork falls nervelessly at my feet and I’m running down something slow and moth-like. It’s them or me, and no quarter is asked nor granted.

While I don’t mind so much the occasional overlooked baggie that falls under the storage area and became lunch, the idea of sending pestilence to someone else is completely horrid.

…which is why the garbage man will be puzzling over the contents of my can for some time.

The Killing Fields

Cedar chests have long been recommended for use in clothes moths control. However, claims for the repellency of cedar compounds are frequently overstated. It is true that the heartwood of red cedar (Juniperus virginiana) contains volatile oils that kill clothes moth larvae, when the oils are in high concentration. However, these oils do not repel adult stages nor do they affect other woolen pests, such as carpet beetles. Furthermore, the effectiveness of cedar declines in older chests, as the concentration of the oils dissipates due to evaporation. One study suggests that chests more than three years are practically useless for killing clothes moth larvae.

Now that I’m receiving hides in volume I recognize the only strategy possible is a defense-in-depth.

… which is located outside, so I don’t pickle myself in the process. If a neighbor wrinkles their nose and asks “what’s that smell” just tell them it’s embalming fluid, they won’t ask a follow up.

Paradichlorobenzene (Moth Ice – KB) is generally more toxic to insects than naphthalene, particularly for carpet beetles. At temperatures above about 50 degrees F it turns into a heavier-than-air gas that kills all stages of clothes moths and carpet beetles if maintained at high concentrations for 2 to 3 weeks.

A shipment (or a fly shop visit) is quickly pored over outside, then it’s placed in the chamber of death, a large cardboard box lined with mothballs. I’m never sure which is better, moth ice or the ball flavor, so after three or four days of that I’ll decant them into the middle box whose substrate is pure moth ice.

Naphthalene is most often available as ‘moth balls’ and is an effective fumigant against clothes moths. Carpet beetles, however, are much more resistant to naphthalene and often are poorly controlled. Naphthalene is a fumigant, and is effective only if high concentrations of the gas are produced.

After a week it makes the top box, where it often sits for another week to see if anything emerges. The exception being hides that I’ll dye – as the exposure to scalding acid-laced water seems to kill everything just as permanent.

High temperatures can also disinfest woolen materials from insects. Temperatures of 110 degrees F to 120 degrees F are generally lethal to all insects if maintained for 30 minutes or more.

After the suspect material has passed all levels of decontamination, I’ll wash the hide or feathers in shampoo and dry for storage. Human shampoo and conditioner works on animal fur just as it does on your mane, pick something with a pleasing scent to assist in disguising rotting flesh or naptha.

I find decontaminated hides that haven’t had the Naptha residue washed off an irritant, especially to my eyes. A casual scratch or back of the hand passed over the eye area can leave a residual trail of chemical, hence the shampoo before storage.

In 1997, a plant-derived repellent, lavandin oil, received registration. It is marketed under the trade name OFF! Moth ProoferR. This is sold in a sachet form. It is designed to hang between clothes in closets or placed in storage chests.

Directions indicate use on clothes after they have been dry cleaned, so use under other conditions (such as stored wool or woven goods not easily dry cleaned) is unknown. However, lavandin oil is lethal to clothes moths. Use directions also indicate that the product should be used in a closed storage area to allow the lavandin oil to be in effective concentrations.

Long term storage I use cedar shavings (available as hampster bedding in pet stores) or I’ll line the bottom of the chest or drawer with cedar tongue and groove – available as closet liner from Lowe’s or the hardware store. Every year I’ll go through and take a sander to the wood to refresh the pleasing scent and whatever protection it provides, at the same time it forces me to inspect some of those forgotten materials – seldom used – that will host intruders without my noticing.

Moths are quite sensitive to drying agents, and many arid states like Colorado have much less of an issue. As computer electronics is always shipped with big packets of chemical desiccant, I store the extra packs that I’ll use to dry surface flies (but don’t need yet) among my tying materials.

Clothes moths are very sensitive to drying conditions as well. Optimal relative humidity (RH) is around 75 percent. In RH less than 20 percent to 30 percent clothes moths will not survive.

– via Colorado State University

Especially those areas of confined space, where the odorless desiccant can drop the relative humidity to lethal levels.

It’s bad enough that fly tying is frustrating as well as hellishly expensive, especially so if you’re losing much of your older purchases to unwelcome guests.

Defense in depth and the backbone not to rush to the table with a sack full of newly purchased which is promptly intermingled with all your pristine materials. No less precautions than our wading mantra; Clean, Fry, and Giggle.

… and there’ll be no samples this week, fellows. I was thinking of you however …

Where we dabble in Dirt and Mud, and rediscover our youthful passions for same

Despite all of the maturity and sophistication of my later years I retain a child’s fascination for dirt. It exists at two levels really, the notion of washing a fishing vest or well seasoned hat being completely repugnant, and a lot of my fly tying revolves around “dirt” and its many colors.

Harken back to those heady watercolor and finger painting episodes of grade school and you’ll remember it as the puddle of all colors; a brownish tinge to whatever else you’d slapped on the paper and the budding Picasso next to you.

Faced with a plethora of hides, yarns, and synthetics, in both drab and riotous colors, the fly tying artist makes “dirt” about every third attempt. It’s a natural tendency when exploring a new medium, and often the “less is more” idiom is learned before something other than dirt colors are the end product.

If chocolate and peanut butter taste good together, let’s add strawberry preserves and yogurt, then some sauerkraut …”

Like all crafts, clean colors lies in the edit rather than the inspiration.

The Secret Dirt Recipe, almost

You nodded vigorously when “Momma” told you to document everything, then ignored this all important chore completely. As that bulging baggy slimmed down and the bodycount of duped fish increased, you found yourself asking, “was it Orange Hare’s Ear I added, or was it Yellow?”

Above is a sample page of my color book, showing the detail needed to make an awesome color a second time, any damn fool can make a great color once …

Samples of each of the materials used are taped to the page, as well as a generous dollop of the final dubbing at top left. I’ve coded the component description in my own unique system, designed to obfuscate and confuse – while the wife may get half the pages, they won’t be worth much without an interpreter.

Snippets of the original materials are included because they won’t always be available. At some point the yarn or one of the furs will be rare or no longer made, and a small snip of the original allows you to search for a replacement with a sample in hand.

It’s a lesson every fly tier learns painfully, some not at all.

As many of the above components are dyed from the original color, the color book allows you to compare with the contents of the dye pot, so you can reproduce a needed shade without guesswork.

Mix more than four colors together in roughly equal amounts, and you’re playing with mud. But “mud” isn’t as bad as those first grade self portraits might’ve seemed …

A Claret and Olive Dirt

The proof being when you get in close. Paint molecules being so much smaller than hair follicles, color loses integrity, while fur still retains the sum of its parts.

Gold Ribbed Olive&Claret Dirt Clod

I can’t shake the feeling there’s something special about a touch of claret or burgundy in any fly. While on paper adding bits of this and that yields a muddy and largely indescribable brown, the finished Gold Ribbed Dirt Clod (Olive & Claret) shows its true self as plenty alluring.

This is one of many tidbits that Andy Puyans and some of his ilk adored. The debut of the AP nymph in Angler magazine had nearly 10 variants of the now standard AP Nymph, two of those featured claret highlights as shown above.

Strain them old eyes further with midges and tiny dries

This winter I’ll be busy restocking tiny and gossamer, as each trip has required both small and unique dry flies. With failing vision it’s not realism that’ll motivate the sizes and patterns needed, it’ll be small yet visible as the requirement.

Both trips North featured few organized hatches, and the evening grab was comprised of a smorgasbord of terrestrial and aquatic insects, some struggling in the surface film, and the rest emerging per schedule.

Ants and midges are my top priority, using Redditch Scale hooks they would be #18 or #20, as I can’t see smaller at distance (Mustad & Tiemco aren’t using the Redditch Scale, so they would be #20 and #22).

Early in the year it was a Mustard-Orange midge that was needed, and this weekend featured a newer variant in Key Lime Pie – which will play havoc with the traditional somber bug colors, but will be fun to tie – and even more fun explaining to the curious …

Mustard Orang Midge

The Mustard-Orange Midge above (Redditch #18) was consistent with the emerging midges, it accounted for all surface casualties.Tied in traditional mayfly-parachute style so it doesn’t disappear in the surface film like more traditional down-wing midge patterns. Dun gray deer hair wing, grizzly hackle and tail, and Singlebarbed’s Yellow Orange dry fly dubbing

… I threw that in just so you’d clutch chest and exclaim, “Crap, I ain’t got none …”

Any dubbing the color of natural orange juice will work fine. Picture the above with a Key Lime body and you’d have the latest variant covered nicely.

I tied half with white wings and half with dun deer hair. The white wing shows better when contrasted against the darker water of evening, and the dun deer hair shows better contrast against light colored water backlit by the sun. Tiny flies and diminishing eyesight means any trick is fair game.

Early in the season the ants were enormous, this weekend they were just as plentiful, only small – in sizes #18 and #20. I struggle with how I’m going to make the smallish-black visible to my old eyes, but it will likely feature a mayfly upwing just so I can pick it out from among the naturals. Ants aren’t graceful in death, nor are wings precisely folded. I should be able to poke something skyward that I can see, without compromising realism.

The Blue Fuzzy Caddis

The top fish getter for Hat Creek was something I’d tied for the brown water. A simple bead headed caddis worm tied in a frosty blue/green, compliments of Berrocco’s Crystal FX yarn, in an odd color called National Velvet.

It’s a multicolor yarn, predominantly blue, that fades into a blue green, then back to light blue.

I’d read that trout lack the cones for blue, so I’d dismissed it as a trout fly, and intended to use it for Carp and Pikeminnow.

When wet the yarn color trends to blue green, which proved irresistible to wild trout.

If the ability to resolve blue is an issue, I would guess the fly was a neutral hue that retained the green elements, coupled with a light halo of transparent mylar fuzz that gives the yarn its signature look.

Berrocco National Velvet yarn That was as much science as I contemplated, as the fish were eating it fast and furiously, and Kelvin was fingering my box for spares.

Berrocco discontinued the yarn in 2007, but you can still purchase it on eBay, there’s five skeins of National Velvet available.

There’s little question this has been a strange year. Intense and prolonged rain upset everything from the tomato harvest to hatch timetables. A lot of the odd insects encountered recently may be hatching early or late compared to last year, which explains why I’ve not seen them before.

With that in mind I’ll not go overboard in stocking up, perhaps a dozen of each color tossed into a single compartment should next year be more of the same.

On a cost basis, your fly tying dubbing is a girlfriend half your age, including the divorce

My poppa was overly fond of the Hershey with Almonds, as he cared nothing for money or markets, it was the yardstick by which he measured the US economy.

…in between telling us when he was a kid, it was only a nickel.

We learned the brightly emblazoned text, “33% more, Free” meant the economy was in tailspin and the price was about to rise, and the plain wrapper sans “free food” meant the stock market was a rocket ship headed skyward … (you can find the Hershey Cost Index here)

Most of this year I’ve been working towards a suite of dubbing under the Singlebarbed logo, not so much raw commercialization as awareness that an entire generation of tiers has never seen or used custom products, relying instead on synthetics that are one dimensional, like the unsatisfying part of a Mickey Dee’s burger.

A fistful of cash

Part of all that market research included buying some from all the major vendors, deconstructing the components, admiring the gilt packaging, noting the superlatives and claims of perfection, weighing, measuring, and studying benefits and shortcomings, as well as estimating their costs.

My premonition was dubbing would be a Hershey bar, only the shop tag obscured the “30% more, free” …

When I think of the expensive items we measure as minor trappings of wealth; a choice steak, a new car, a girlfriend half our age, they’re cheap* (unless a divorce is involved) by comparison.

Dubbing isn’t rare furs and endangered animals anymore. The modern marketplace is comprised of components shat from tubes, boiled in vats, and sold by the ton. So why is a six ounce “steak” of dubbing  just over six hundred dollars, and a new car of dubbing making a dent in the national debt?

The math is simple, I took a representative sample comprised of 10 fly shops and the 10 dubbing products common to all, which yielded a product package weight of nearly 4g, comprised of packaging weighing 3g, whose contents contain 1g of fur.

Given the taxation of those states and the average price,  the fly tying community is paying on average, $3.75 per gram of dubbing.

Most of the products are entirely synthetic, some contain two ingredients – a hint of synthetic sparkle and a natural or synthetic binder layer. Figure they’re paying about $10 per pound for the base synthetic, which they may dye, then re-fluff for packaging, that $10 investment becomes $1702.00 for the respective jobber and subscribing retail shops.

Not a bad return for the jobber, the retail side only gets to double the price once.

Comparison of the same product a decade ago (for those that existed) shows a decline in content weight of 50%.

… like the candy bar of yore, “fur” has shrankeled while doubling or tripling in price.

There’s no mystery to all this. Jobbers dominate the fly tying section and distribute the packaged dubbing too. With no in-house brand for competition they can do what they will, as they’ve got a monopoly on all that pegboard and what it contains.

… I’ll add that to the “ornery” side of why we need more choices. I just wanted to make something better, and already I feel the pull of  Jihad.

9.5% Unemployment and most are fly tiers

Cubicle wars If you’ve ever supervised others you understand how closely work resembles high school. Inkwells replaced by cubicles and communal refrigerators, pigtails a thing of the past, but the guy that dries his shoes in the microwave, or thumbs the donuts is a worthy substitute.

Come lunch I’d like to be in a happy place, tossing all the responsibility, and with brown bagging the new frugal, take my tasteful little repast into a unused conference room or break room along with a small sack of fly tying materials.

There to repel vegans and animal lovers, answer the questions of the curious, amaze onlookers, and dispense fly fishing doctrine to all those whose dad or grandfather did it years ago, who were always interested, yet never picked it up permanently.

Most tiers would be a tad reluctant, and with good cause, but I find the exercise both relaxing and productive, more focused than the casual version done at home. Time and space are constraints, but the tinkle of the brook and vision of soaring pine trees can make a marginal stress-filled afternoon seem less so, so I keep doing it.

Every couple of weeks I empty out my kit and the flybox and find seven or ten dozen more flies to add to my already cramped vest.

But with all the perils and restraint due the workplace, you should always be low on the radar, alert to avoid complaint or fur-induced adverse action.

The Sacred Tenets of Workplace Fishing

Practice casting or instruction in the parking lot is fine, just make sure you have an old line that can take the abrasion, and don’t mind the labels “Creep” or “Weirdo.”

Nobody likes being seen as a beginner, especially the well tanned, coifed, and fit. Start the lesson after most of the folks have left for lunch.

Recognize the evangelical before you’re in a discussion you can’t win. Animal freaks and Vegans disguise themselves well, they could be your Boss, or even your Boss’s Boss. Their zeal gives them away quickly, so point out that nearly all your materials are synthetic – even when there’s hide visible or whiskers attached.

Despite their beliefs, most have little knowledge of animals outside the freezer section of the store, or their cat – and having never turned either inside out, they’ll be fairly clueless.

If the Office Babe shows an interest, everyone at the table will be as talented and interested as you are. Loosen the reins and let the suitors trip over their shoelaces, it’s like guiding – with the clients ignoring your advice, and always a great show.

“Timmy” the obnoxious kid from High School is now Tim, but if one of the gals shows fear when shown a pheasant skin, or is repelled that it’s a dead-anything, Mr. Tim will chase her around the office with it. Keep the dead stuff close to you – even closer if an eyeball is visible.

Find a quiet corner so you can avoid most of the traffic, even the most hardened fly tier will tire of answering the same question over and over.

Yes, that’s a dead thing, yes, fish eat this, no, I don’t always keep them, yes, that hook is sharp

Your most interested spectator will be the guy that never brings donuts, the lunchroom Ghost. By feigning interest, he can keep an eye on unattended sandwiches, unwanted chips, and what few donuts remain.

Only bring enough materials to tie a single pattern. At most you’ll finish five or six flies, and few materials is fast to gather if you’re summoned for an impromptu meeting or calamity.

An occasional dust mote or loose feather won’t cause alarm, but a fish hook will be an issue. Only lay out a half dozen hooks at a time and return the box to the carrying bag, that way you won’t spill any and can account for strays.

… and resist the urge to imbed a couple in the remaining donut to settle scores with the Ghost. Just restore the donut’s luster with a generous dollop of fast drying head cement. It’s difficult to be sneaky when the entire pink box comes with the prey ..

Don’t be surprised if you unearth a kindred spirit, or a classic rod last used by someone’s grandfather. While most work sites promote sterility and conformity, fearing litigation, what you do to put money on the table is not who you are, and demonstrating same can have occasional benefits.

Just be real vague about key dates like the Trout Season Opener, so you can be sick again.

It’s the hardest color in the world but only because it isn’t a color at all

It's a red black Ask anyone who’s ever fiddled with materials and you’ll see the involuntary shudder when Black is mentioned. While it enjoys status of being a must-have color among fly fishermen, getting a good permanent black will drive both professional and hobbyist to tears.

… and you don’t have to do it yourself to grit your teeth, as most packages of black materials stain fingers, clothing, and skin.

Dye companies have an asterisk next to their black(s), requiring you to double the amount of dye used to achieve a complete deep color. That translates into stained sinks, discolored fingers, and rinsing the material at least three times as much before the water even resembles clear.

Slurps and dribbles are permanent, and the evidence can’t be hidden, as you and the sink are the same color of sepia.

Dyed once, about to be dipped a second time Black is the absence of all color,  it can only be approximated by adding dark colors together – and as a result every vendor’s recipe is different.

Most could be described as warm or cold blacks, as they depend heavily on purple which is a mixture of red and blue. Tossing other colors into purple will raise or lower the red or blue – yielding a warm or cold color.

To further complicate matters is the presence of many colors of black. Black, jet black, carbon black, true black, and even new black, are labels used by dye vendors to distinguish between black-as-night and dark charcoal gray.

They’re all a pain to reproduce and your only certainty is the result will be messy, stain the top half of your torso, and won’t be black enough.

What we think of as black is actually Jet Black, the darkest and deepest of all the vendor variants. Not all vendors call it as such, when presented with a choice, that’s the darkest of all.

rinsewater Many things can interfere with the coloring process, including natural colors (we assume the black will cover them up), dirt, grease, and oil, and the blend of dye itself. Dyes are made from rare earths and minerals, all of which activate at different times and temperatures – and if the bath doesn’t get hot enough, or is too hot – it’s possible to have a color misfire.

The rinse water at left shows you how visuals cannot be trusted. Rinsing a pound of loose fur in dish detergent yielded a great deal more dirt than we suspected. It also shows why scissors grow dull, not only will the dirt prevent color from setting on the material, but this kind of grit is hell on the sharpest of scissors.

Familiarity with your dye vendor is the only way to know whether your result has been influenced by other agents. Dyeing six or seven batches of material will commit the shade to memory, allowing you to fiddle with heat and quantity if you get something unexpected.

Over dyeing the material a second time, with partial drying in between can usually fix a poor initial attempt, but sometimes it’s the material itself that resists coloration.

How many blacks are shown? Guard hairs and stiff shiny materials are quite hard compared to loose fur or marabou. A rich deep black in Marabou may not be the same shade when dyeing a slab of Polar Bear, or similar tough material. Over dyeing a second time may fix a dark gray, and it may be enough to over dye it with a deep purple, or dark brown, rather than black.

At left is about seven pounds of loose fur (multiple animals), how many “blacks” do you see?

Only the foreground two were listed as Jet Black (left) and True Black (right). The rearmost is Gunmetal Gray, Purple in the center, and the rightmost dark color is Silver Gray. The True Black (right foreground) has been dyed twice with twice the amount of dye as normal, yet is still a close match to both Gunmetal and Silver Gray. This shows why familiarity with the vendor is so important – the labeled color is of little help.

outdoors_black

Outdoor light adds a bit of blue to the bucket of True Black. The Jet Black on the mound of drying material shows little change from indoor lighting, it’s still the darkest black in any condition.

For my use the current color of the True Black will work just fine, it’s a component of a larger batch of dubbing that will be a dark gray.

While it showed red in the drain (see above picture) once on the material and exposed outdoors it shows blue, suggesting that if I wish to darken it further I would over dye it with a dark brown – as the red of the brown would cancel the bluish tint shown in the photo.

The rest of the table is yellow that was fast dipped in orange, and then soaked in a weak olive, just one of many secrets to my Golden Stone mix.

I mention it only because my porcelain dye pot sprung a leak while cooking three pounds of hair. Yellow being the most forgiving color and dyeing even in lukewarm water, once I heard the burner sputter – I had time to jam my hand into the pot and cover the hole without parboiling them precious fly tier fingers …

… jaundiced to the elbow is easy for us brown water types to explain.

Test Jet Black, True Black, dyeing hair, bulk fly tying materials, dubbing, Golden Stone, fly fishing, fly tier, acid dyes, protein dyes

A better mousetrap is not without cost

freecat Wanting something more than what’s offered on the shelf is understandable, but bringing that vision to fruition can be hell to pay.

Six months ago, after a particularly dismal showing at the local shop, I’d resolved to enter the dubbing market utilizing all those techniques and foibles learned in youth, drummed into my head by the legion of old guys I looked up to …

… who didn’t mention anything about what happens to your living room, how the neighbors whisper and draw away when you hail them from across the street – nor the visitations by animal control officers, and the sexually transmitted diseases … which was my surprising initial diagnosis based on the symptoms.

Even less well known is the absence of automation to assist, how you have to make due with Momma’s food processor until she’s spitting guard hairs from a smoothie – and spitting mad moments later.

If you really want to make a difference you’re busy listing all the qualities your stuff will possess that the current fare lacks, then start the slow and methodical search for materials that won’t drive the price upward, are readily available, and can be coaxed, shredded or dyed without violating zoning laws, wastewater treatment permits, or turns your backyard into a superfund site.

That’s your first inclination you’ve bitten off far more than anticipated, and the enormity of what a hasty vow in the parking lot really entails.

As most dubbing products are synthetic, or just rabbit, and monochromatic of color, all the easy stuff is taken. So you range far afield of fishing and acquaint yourself with industries that use fur, threads, yarn, synthetics, and anything resembling hair – and wind up with an education about how car upholstery is made, who makes it, and why it’s unsuitable for flies.

Then you start ordering test snippets by the ounce, pound, or boxcar, hoping in all of that wallet-lightening one or two gems will emerge. They don’t usually, so you’re on to the next vocation hoping their materials are softer, longer, or doesn’t melt when you add water.

A sample arrives and hold plenty of promise. A stiff synthetic fiber that has a nice sheen and would offer wonderful texture to nymph dubbing, as it doesn’t slim down when damp. The fly you proportion in the vise would be same dimensions when fished – instead of resembling a drowned cat when it’s removed from the creek …

Naturally I dye about eight or nine pounds into 20 colors, and my new neighbors are peering over the fence line wondering when the rest of the Gypsies show…

… and I’m not at all bashful when displaying my stained tee shirt, where the rust red slopped over the lip of the pot and I threw my body between it and the linoleum …

… intercepting most of it from neckline to mid torso. Now that my “slasher” outfit was complete, I turn to the curious folks on tiptoe at the fence and shuffle toward them woodenly moaning, “ … mmm, Brains …”

The sliding glass door snicked shut – and I heard the muted sound of a bolt closing on a Remington.

Indoors I’m torturing and mixing the dampened mats – teasing them into 96 colors, of which nine are indispensable, 43 are questionable, and the remainder should be husbanded only because no one else has them.

Monday dawns and I’m back to real work, but can’t help noticing the occasional itch at the waistline or below. As I’m wrappered neatly by a desk I scratch as needed …

A couple days later, I’m thinking … fleas? … or Crabs? Entomology being a strong suit, it’s the only thing I can imagine that’s possibly biting – yet small enough to remain undetected. Monogamous or not, you can’t help but have your life pass before your eyes. How do you pose the question to Momma, much less explain their presence in light of complete chastity?

… all this suffering, just to make a couple fly tiers happy? As with any new material, half the fellows will think their familiar standby is better, the other half will tinker with a pack and shrug, and the last two fellows will think it’s worth purchasing a second pack.

It was neither critter as you might suspect. Texture is a desirable quality, but wrapping the synthetic equivalent of fiberglass insulation around thread and the itching that results is just not worth it.

Rinse and repeat.

Natural fur allowed me to resume my acquaintance with the new neighbors. Each weekend featured all manner of stuff dripping gaily from the clothesline, yet most days I was semi presentable and hailed them while dumping a big bag of shorn animal skins into the trash.

“Hi, my name’s Keith, do you fish?”

No, I golf.”

Golf. Sigh. I’m determined to make the fellow less twitchy and ease his fears a bit, “Ah, well neighbor, welcome – and if you need dogs looked after or the stereo’s playing too loud, feel free to bang on my door.”

“We’re cat people.”

I notice his gaze fixated behind me, I glance around to see what’s so compelling, and realize that red fox tail has been shorn to resemble a medium tabby – just the right length draped outside of the garbage can to give the fellow real drama.

The garage door slams shut, and I hear frantic whispers then silence.

I return from work to see the crowd in the street huddled over something. I walk up to the onlookers and inquire, and they’re pointing at the “flatty” in the road.

A victim of automation is the way I see it. When the truck emptied my trash into the back, one of my fur donors had slipped out to lie spread-eagled on the roadbed, and shaved opossum can resemble Siamese if the light is right …

The fellow across the street joins the crowd holding the “Missing” poster from the mailbox, “… it might be the same cat” – and while the crowd cranes forward in forensic inquiry, I ease back into the safety of my house – wondering whether it’ll be pitchforks and swords, or just searchlights and SWAT.

… and while I’m close to the final prototypes, with just a bit of adjustment necessary before picking the primary color selection – from napkin to product there is a lot of more than meets the eye.

Marker bulk dubbing, fly tying materials, fly tying humor, do it yourself, opossum, red fox tail, fly tiers, blended fur, capitalism