CHAPTER V. 



THE MAY FLY. 



HE May fly is up ! Every year, about the first week in 

 June, telegrams to this effect are hurriedly despatched 

 to those favoured few who own or rent water where 

 this member of the ephemeridce disports himself. It 

 used to be called the May fly Carnival. There are, 

 however, grave disadvantages in connection with our 

 friend that greatly discount the apparent advantages. 

 Fish gorged with this luscious food are wont to try 

 a course of semi-starvation after their over-indulgence, and for a long 

 time will not look at smaller and more wholesome diet. Then, to my 

 thinking, a May fly is a horrible thing to cast with. It is not at all 

 like casting with the more delicate duns or quill gnats. There is a clumsy 

 feeling about it ; it is exceedingly difficult to dry, and if you catch a fish a 

 change of fly is at once necessary, the old chawed-up imitation being 

 rendered useless. It is also not easy to get exactly the right pattern to 

 suit, though for choice the small dark-winged May fly has given me the 

 best results. It is, unless you live near your water, very difficult to hit off 

 the precise day — you are always too early or too late ; you are told " You 

 should have been there yesterday ; there was a grand rise of fly, and the 

 fish were simply mad after them, and no one was on the water " — and so 

 on. Cheery news, no doubt, when you find the fish all lying near the 

 bottom. When they really are on, there is excitement enough ; mad 

 splashes all round you, frequently made by the smaller fish. Your 



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