SALMON FISHING IN THE SPEY 



ago, I remember, I was looking over some flies at Farlow's, 

 preparatory to stocking my book for the autumn, when my 

 eye was caught by a gaudy concoction of scarlet feathers and 

 gold tinsel. I asked its name, and was told that it was called 

 the " Prawn " fly. Knowing how fatal an attraction a prawn 

 can be to salmon (a lure, in fact, prohibited on the Spey), 

 I thought that this might perhaps furnish the nearest legiti- 

 mate approach to that bait. It was a vulgar-looking object, 

 very different from the sober hues of our modest Spey flies, 

 but the result was wholly satisfactory. Other members of the 

 party, and in particular Geordie Shanks, the old gillie, looked 

 askance at the " Prawn," yet hardly a day passed without my 

 getting one or two fish on it, and others took to using it as 

 well. To some extent this illustrates the indifference of 

 salmon to a particular pattern, yet the " Lady Caroline," 

 " Purple King," and " Green King," with other well-known 

 Spey flies, continue to hold their own against any gaudy new- 

 comer. As a general rule, I fish — on bright days, at any rate — 

 down a pool in the morning with a Spey fly, a modest brown- 

 winged fly with a silver body, or with a " Thunder and 

 Lightning," which shows up well in the water and does great 

 execution in bright weather. Nor is it possible to lay down 

 the law with regard to the best size of fly, for it is quite usual 

 for two people to get fish, one with a tiny double-hooked fly, 

 the other with a much larger pattern at neighbouring pools on 

 the same day. 



When I began my fishing, we used nothing but i8-feet 

 spliced Spey rods. Then I was induced by Mr. Arthur 



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