Category Archives: Fly Tying

No parallel in nature for a 4mm shiny gold bead, and none of the important aquatic food groups are so equipped.

Ernie_Schweibert I was convinced the story behind bead headed flies and their speedy domination of the sport was due to fly tiers who dreaded completing that gracefully tapered head, that final step which revealed their skill set even to the casual observer.

Weight has always been problematic for fly fishing. The letter of the law allows you to add as much lead as possible so long as it’s covered up, the rest of us especially those without ethics or refined breeding add a big shiny goober-esque bead – elegant in getting the fly down to where fish are, reducing all the discarded split shot us fishermen have been salting the watershed with for the last decade.

We feel bad about the lead / waterfowl thing, but only because of all that wasted flank and oily duck’s arse we can no longer live without. They’ve expired via heavy metal inhalation … accidental versus the double barreled kinetic flavor we had in mind.

Instead the bead phenomenon is considerably larger than all that. The  real story is our adoption of the literal and scientific elements of fly fishing being complete. We’ve garnered all the fish killing properties of higher learning, entomology and Latin, and are assured there is no stone left unturned, only a return to the gaily colored attractor flies of yesteryear may provide us with additional challenges.

Ignoring all the mean spirited and literal dialog discussed by the forum crowds; whether a beaded fly is in-fact a fly versus a weighted lure, and the passions that conversation awakens, what we can all agree upon is there is no parallel in nature for a 4mm shiny gold bead, and none of the important aquatic food groups are so equipped.

Certainly it assists sinking the fly quickly, but it also adds the same tinsel flash as the traditional wet flies of the 30’s thru 50’s. Ray Bergman and his cohort may have pitched a horrible scene at the prospect of fishing all that weight, but he was fishing over a couple hundred percent more trout (ditto for wilderness) and probably didn’t need to resort to such gimmickry, as there were ample fish in the shallow water.

Fundamental shifts in angling perception tend to hang around for decades. “Matching the Hatch” dominated the last 40 years, attractors before that, and the trends before those are largely lost to us, but “nobility and butterflies” remain, along with the occasional hoary text and odd references to “yellow flye” whose legendary hatches turned the sky of both Tigress and Euphrates, “as darke as nyght.”

Only dry fly fishing remains reasonably intact, the physics of floating a fish hook being unchanged despite iPad’s and Internet, and the drab colors of emerging insects being the sole constant on any aquatic menu.

Gone are the smallish and somber flies of steelhead fishing; the stonefly nymphs and egg imitations abandoned for big water-moving attractors whose garish purples and strung ostrich herl hackles have redefined the pursuit of migratory fisheries.

Coarse fishing and its rise to prominence may have had a small role in this, but it’s more likely that natural had worn itself thin due to age and numerous shortcomings. Big beaded colorful flies seduces all the common warm water species, and even the uncommon ones we encountered in urban settings, giving us twice the reason to add a boxful to our vest. Inevitably we found the box while searching for a solution for fussy trout, and despite our fearful glance skyward, no lightning bolt spat from the Heavens as proof that a vengeful Schweibert had been awakened from a dusty grave.

The physical gear followed close on the heels of our new appreciation for color. Puce rods feature Day-Glo backing, shiny gold reels, and anglers boldly announcing their presence with authority, with liberal application light refracting gadgets  and Miami Vice pastels to assist us in blending into the surrounding underbrush and its shadows.

Our fly tying materials underwent similar change. Opalescent being the dominant new material of the last decade, showing itself in dubbing, tinsel, and sheet – all of which were eagerly incorporated into contemporary patterns of both fresh and salt. “Sparkles” are in, and both packaged dubbing and artificial hair vie to outshine each other with gaudy light refractive qualities, often as their only real attribute.

Us fly fishermen typically fixate on a prophet to attribute our 180 degree about face of conventional wisdom, some new Oracle of angling that we can toast at speaking engagements, delights in upending all we’ve held sacred, and commands those heady comps of the swank remote lodge cartel.

Schweibert had his 15 minutes, as did LaFontaine and sparkle yarn, now it’s the rebirth of the attractor – forged in the steely cauldron of the former Eastern Bloc, and returned to prominence with long rods, rainbow hued Czech nymphs, and the two fly cast, proving that which is ancient  can be expensive again …

Now you can empty the bucket into the sewer proudly, knowing you’ve stunted less fish

Dyeing materials organically The fun part is you can make every bit as much mess, and your sudden interest in walnut shells won’t be attributable to your fly tying obsession.

She’ll think you’re being “extra good” because of the pending holidays, and your sudden desire to crack all those walnuts are merely foreplay for the fruitcake.

By my count there’s at least 30 colors hidden in your cupboard and the plants that make up your backyard, and if you can make a gallon of tea without wearing it – you’re on your way to handling all your color needs in a toxin free, mostly organic environment.

… which will not get you out of the doghouse should you steal her pots or dribble their contents on her linoleum, but as you don’t need heat and can dump the contents at your curb, you shouldn’t find yourself in the kitchen at all.

The book is called “Wild Color” and is a cleverly done manual on dyeing fibers (both organic and inorganic) with natural materials; leaves, stems, seeds, flowers, and crushed fiber from household items and decorative plants.

This book was a very quick read, and informative. This is not some dogged treatise on proper Ph and dye bath temperatures as much as it is a first book on the subject, striking a nice light balance of material directly on topic, and some of the history of garments and their coloration, some of the odd sources of colors, and how geography played a defining role in both common and exotic coloration.

Organic dyes are a combination of stain (brute force color) and “teas” enhanced with the proper mordant. Mordants are fixatives, dilute solutions of copper, aluminum, and iron, that assist the natural color to affix itself to animal fiber or cloth.

Mordants are made simply by adding white vinegar and water in equal measure and throwing a couple copper plumbing fixtures into the liquid for a week. Ditto for iron solutions or aluminum. This gives you the hobbyist, the ability to make all the items you need from their source, and not having to pay for anything other than the plant or food.

… better yet, flush with this new “green-ness” you can wait until your neighbor’s asleep and then pillage his Eucalyptus.

Half the book is devoted to the plants that provide the color, and the range of colors each plant is capable of given the mordant used. Dandelions used with copper mordant yields a medium olive, but with an acidic mordant may yield yellow.

It should be no surprise that anything you scuffed on a pant’s leg in your youth has potential as a colorizing agent. All that’s needed is for you to be a bit more surgical in your application.

Organic dyes are not capable of dyeing everything. The intensity of the bath may actually stain some materials that cannot be dyed, but considering our ancestors made use of animal hides and leathers, as well as woven fabrics like cotton and wool – all of which were successfully dyed in many colors, it’s safe to assume you should be able to get both pastel shades and many combinations that will result in much darker colors.

Given that dead and dried plants are desired to brew colors, I would think a visit to a nursery might yield a lot of free exotic plants that have dried past their prime, or simply died while on the vendor’s premise. This book will give you the names to ask for and a nice picture of the plant while living – everything needed to assist your collecting.

I’ve dabbled in natural dyes for some time, but only those whose materials are common to my locale (or to the neighbors backyard). All those neat piles of plant debris at the curb have yielded quite a few finds that I’ve used to make earthy tones of brown and olive, and it can be a lot of fun to devote a gallon jug in the garage to steeping a mixture of bat’s wing, and eyelash of newt …

… knowing the poor SOB next to me has none of them big stoneflies that smell like licorice …

An engaging read, especially the introduction outlining the earliest sources of purples, why they were so hard to find, and why the Celt’s of the British Isles were so fond of blue. Guaranteed to make you never look at an onion skin in quite the same way again.

Onion_Skin

The above shows how the plant pages are organized. The material has a brief discussion outlining which parts of the plant contain the coloring agent, and whether they are best used dried or fresh. For each of the materials the bars of reference colors (at left) describe what you will get when used with the different types of mordants (alkaline, acid, aluminum, copper, or iron).

As with any colorizing agent some experimentation is necessary. Some of these colors are susceptible to fading in direct sunlight, as they lack all the chemical finery of traditional aniline dyes, and are often much less concentrated than a couple of heaping teaspoons of a powderized dye.

Earth tones aren’t so bad as regards fading, but anything solid colored, and especially red, should have a chunk nailed to a fence post for a week or two to see if the finished product is stable.

Cost of this tome is $15.35 from Amazon.com, and it may yield something useful to those that wish to avoid caustic chemicals and toxins.

Full Disclosure: I bought this book from Amazon.com for the above price

Dyeing and Bleaching Natural Fly Tying Materials

It's not Best's Best Being the only book of its kind might tip the scales somewhat, but I was hoping for a bit more.

I purchased a copy of A. K. Best’s, “Dyeing and Bleaching Natural Fly-Tying Materials” and spent last week intent on learning some of the differences in style and cautionary information the author has for prospective colorists.

There wasn’t a great deal of information for those having already trod that path. He is generous in the degreasing, he wears gloves, has been banished from his kitchen, and is overly fond of things he can buy at a supermarket.

… and he mentions a “dyeing room” while I’m dealing with Ma’s Kitchen – suggesting Mr. Best may be fastidious in preparation and clean up, and I may be the Oscar to his Felix.

Of interest to me was the use of coffee urns, stainless steel food containers, and hot plates as a heat source. I assumed he’d slurped something onto the Missus’s linoleum and he’d been banished from the kitchen much earlier in his dyeing career, and these implements were forced on him as was the garage.

Hot plates are something I don’t use much, only because of all the apartment fires they caused in my youth. Considering their built-in thermostat it would give more precision to a heat source than raw flame and a thermometer. You’ll just have to remember to turn them off to be safe.

Small batches of material would dye nicely in a 12 cup coffee urn, as it would preserve both dye and keep the dye liquid small and manageable. Nor would it hurt to have a few extra nearby should the real coffee urn take a tumble and shatter. Glass cleans so much nicer than metal or porcelain lined containers – and is impervious to salt as well.

As a first book on dyeing the text may offer good service. Its focus is almost entirely using RIT dyes, and while mentioning Veniard (acid) dyes, there’s not a lot of discussion on frailties or virtues of one over the other. RIT being as close as the local store and therefore gets the nod.

Which is a disservice to the pupil, as RIT and Tintex have their moments, but the acid dyes possess superior color to their salt-fixed brethren, and so long as you don’t shirk from mail order are every bit as available.

There is some brief discussion of the virtue of the artist’s color wheel, a chapter with a dozen RIT-based formulas for common fly tying colors, another on stripping chicken and peacock quills using bleach in a destructive manner, but discussion was largely superficial, with not a lot of material on the all-important why’s of the colorization process.

I would have expected some thoughts on color from his fishing experiences, perhaps a dab on color as compared to trout vision, or a mention of how colors perform with water depth. Instead the last couple of chapters were devoted to biots and fur blending, and offered only brief commentary, about as long as a magazine article.

I thought biots were an odd choice for a dyeing book as there’s nothing terrible special in dyeing them compared to any flight feather, and a much larger text is necessary to address fur dubbing. Five pages wasn’t much of a treatment given the permutations and use of color possible with furs and mixing different fibers.

The chapter devoted to color removal was my favorite. It’s one of those odd tasks we don’t get to practice very often, as most of our material preparation involves adding color versus removing it. Learning that bleach behaves differently on clothes versus raw fibers, is one of those painful lessons learned once and never forgotten.

I suppose when your kid shows up at the door and reveals the blue lightning bolt down his scalp – it’s nice to know what options you have in the matter.

In summary, I find the book useful but odd. Two or three topics that don’t belong well with the overall topic, which should have been omitted to make room for resources a budding alchemist could leverage to perfect his craft, or a bit more on the science of color, or perhaps more recipes and photos of color samples.

Most of the work relies on references to RIT and Tintex colors which were common when the first edition was published in 1993. As most dye companies add and subtract colors routinely, and what’s left of the Tintex company is in Australia – some of the colors referenced may no longer be available.

It’s a “good” starter book and nothing more. As it’s the only thing available on the topic written for fly tiers, it may warrant a second look.

Full Disclosure: I purchased the book used from Amazon.com. The price for a second edition hardcover was $17.00 in excellent condition.

Fly fishing crime while colorful, may not pay

I figure all the talk of “extreme” went to the lad’s head, and eager to jumpstart his fly tying materials collection he knocked over the natural history museum as an act of “extreme feather collecting.”

A fly tier's dream

At the time of the theft it was postulated that one of the markets these rare birds carcasses might be headed for was the Atlantic Salmon Full Dress Featherwing crowd, whose morals regarding rare feathers are non-existent.

We may never know his intent, but the 22 year old perpetrator has been apprehended in England, with nearly 300 rare bird carcasses recovered.

To make matters worse he was an American …

… that smelled like moth balls.

It’s a fly tying makeover, where we cross fingers and hope we’re not watering down genius to the point of ineffectual

At times I think an entirely separate blog is required to cover concepts of fly design, material handling, and methods of attachment.  We’re often focused on visual imitation of the natural that we lose sight of the practical issues of swimming behavior and attitude in the water.

The only thing close to fiddling with someone else’s great idea and making it yours is cooking. You add additional tasty things hoping the sum of all parts is even better … and that’s not always the case.

To mitigate the fervor of inspiration and the wild frenzy it induces, I use three separate processes to adapt someone else’s idea to my fly box and style of fishing.

Combinations and Permutations:  Fiddle with the idea alone, just to see what else it can do, and what else it would be good at …

Optimization: examine the rest of the fly to ensure other materials are matched with the new functionality, or assist its unique quality.

Swim Test: use the fly in a stream, lake, or bathtub, in the same manner it will be fished in the real world.

One or more of the phases will show a bad or impractical modification, a weakness in the materials chosen, or an attitude shift (caused by a material choice or attachment style) that cause the swimming fly to appear different than the natural or phase of the real insect you’re imitating.

In this case I’m still enamored of the bead-chained body from last week. and the feature being the massive weight of the body after attaching 4 – 6 brass beads.

Full Dubbed variant

Here’s an example of the Combination & Permutation phase, the full dubbed variant. I’ve merely topped the mess with a waxed nylon fiber wingcase as a placeholder for whatever I finally decide upon.

It certainly looks good if thrown with an eight weight. I’ve inserted dubbing between every joint in the chain, which extends all the way to the eye (7 full beads). The body remains flexible but is no longer droopy, and the nylon fibers are indestructible so the wingcase choice is actually an Optimization decision.

Seven brass beads mounted on the top of the fly will cause the fly to ride upside down, so the wingcase is mounted underneath the hook as a Swim decision. All that weight means it’ll be hitting every rock, every sunken tree limb and incur a great deal of damage. The nylon wingcase is impervious to impact, so it’s mounted for Swim, with material chosen per an Optimize quality.

Were you to mount the traditional slip of oak turkey as a wingcase, it would probably last about four casts before being broken to pieces. Which might be just fine – as you’ll probably leave this in a sunken tree limb every second cast …

Czech Nymph Style

Here’s the same fly tied in the Czech Nymph style. Beads follow the curvature of the hook and are secured at each joint. I’ve used the same black nylon fiber for the wingcase – but this time it’s distributed all the way around the fly – and the fly’s attitude in the water is now moot.

All Czech nymphs ride upside down, their attitude being a combination of shape of the hook and placement of the lead wire underbody. Its a mystery to me why they aren’t tied upside down,  that waxy and grub-like shellback points at the river bottom and not where the fish can spy it.

In extending the “wingcase” material completely around the hook means I’ve eliminated the top and bottom of the fly, and the fly looks identical from every angle.

All the same rationale explained above applies here. Material choices made for banging on rocks and surviving, fly tied to swim as the real bug might – if it were curled to protect its nuts while tumbling downstream.

I suspect that the steelhead version will retain the brass bead chain, but the trout flavor will be moved to aluminum anodized beads. The properties of bead chain are identical, only the weight will differ – and the aluminum will allow the bug to be cast versus lobbed – and fished only on the short line.

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.