CHAPTER II 



THE NECESSITY FOR THE DRY-FLY 



THE dry-fly is already a necessity on many 

 rivers, and as fishers increase in number 

 and wander ever farther afield in pursuit 

 of the trout, so will the list of waters which will yield 

 results to a submerged imitation of a fully developed 

 fly become reduced. 



Consider a day of early April, when beside the 

 river the angler rests expectant. Across the broad 

 expanse of brilliant blue great clouds sail before 

 the fresh west wind ; now the sun blazes through a 

 cleft in brilliant rays, lighting up the pool, revealing 

 every rock set amid the gleaming gravel ; now it is 

 obscured, and the air feels chill ; the water is dark 

 and dismal. 



The river is flowing full and free, merry and 

 lively ; the brightness is not dimmed by summer 

 weeds ; the wave-crests sparkle when the cloud 

 passes ; but of life beneath the waters there is no 

 sign. Every trout seems to have been swept along 

 the floods of winter. The angler begins to stir with 

 impatience, but let him wait a little longer. 



On the wings of the breeze is borne a shower of 

 March Browns, a most welcome sight, welcome 

 because they mark the passing of weary idleness and 

 herald the coming of activity. Winter has passed 



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