‘Tis the season for tying one on

As I write this, I am surrounded by flies. This will probably come as no surprise to anyone who knows me.

As you might have surmised, they are pesky little things. To be clear, I am not referring to flying insects. Rather, I’m talking about the fishing flies I am tying.

You see, winter for many fly anglers is the time to tie flies. I suspect many of you might say, “So what?” You might even think this seems harmless enough.

Unfortunately, when it comes to fly tying, I am a bit of an addict. I need to tie at least a dozen flies every day to get my fix. At first, I told myself that I was doing this to replenish my fly boxes for the open waters of spring. But, as Jenn recently pointed out, how many fly boxes can one person carry? In case you were wondering, the answer is several dozen less than I have already filled. But that is only because good porters are now hard to find.

Sometimes I have to wonder if it is time to give it a rest.

This is the one of the two great dilemmas every fly tyer faces. The other dilemma is how to respond when someone discovers you tie flies and then says, “Wow! How you get them to hold still?”

The answer to the second dilemma is to roll your eyes.

The answer to the first dilemma is far more complex though. I mean, you tie flies for a reason, right? At first you tie them for trout. Then you tie them for bass, then you tie them for pike and muskie. Then you tie them for saltwater fish, even though you have never fished in a saltwater environment in your life.

That, by the way, is the first clue that things are getting out of hand. The next clue is that you start going down that rabbit hole even further. Before long you are tying very purpose-specific flies.

For instance, I know a guy who claims to tie a great fly that is particularly effective when used for five-finned trout in moderate flowing water. If it is half as effective as my caddis fly imitation for trout with astigmatism in their right eye, he’s probably onto something too. That fly is so deadly that I had to tie one for trout

with astigmatism in their left eye – even though that is a relatively rare circumstance to run into on the rivers I fish.

None of these things are, in themselves, a problem, however. The issue really begins when you start telling people about these flies – particularly, at social gatherings when people are talking about less important achievements like getting their PhD or discovering the cure for some rare tropical disease.

Of course, the problem is not yours. It’s theirs.

I mean if they don’t want to hear about your recipe for a size 22 midge pattern that simulates a rare aquatic nymph that has ADHD and only comes out on odd-numbered days of the week, just prior to the quarter moon of any month that begins with the letter M, that’s on them. It’s their loss. Completely

Well, maybe not completely. At last count, I’ve got fly three boxes full of them.