180 
FOREST AND STREAM 
April, 1920 
IS AM® mSMHffi 
FLY-FISHING BOTH WET AND DRY 
THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE TROUT SHOULD DETERMINE Jj, WHICH 
LURE SHOULD BE USED TO INSURE THE GREATER SUCCESS TO THEANGLER 
By E. T. WHIFFIN 
A S 1 "have had at least thirty years’ 
experience in fly-fishing in all sorts 
of places, under all sorts of condi- 
tions and during the entire legal season, 
perhaps some gleanings from my experi- 
ences may have a value to the ordinary 
fisherman. My success has been the result 
more of a careful study of conditions 
than of ability to throw a long line, or to 
place a fly accurately at a distance of 
over twenty feet. Most of the fish I have 
caught have been at that distance or less, 
and many a time have I made my catch 
with a line shorter than the rod. I have 
not disdained to do knee-work, in order to 
approach a likely spot unseen. And 
sometimes I have wriggled up on that 
part of the person on which Napoleon 
said armies move. Of course, I envy the 
man who makes a long, easy cast within 
a hair’s breadth of the exact spot he has 
in mind. I have yet to see such a one, 
however. 
It strikes me that the most helpful 
way to give advice is to describe condi- 
tions, and then search for the warranted 
conclusions. 
Some years ago, I caught ten pounds of 
brook trout in a day’s fishing. They were 
small, between seven and ten inches, ex- 
cept a big one which I didn’t get. The 
stream was a small one, emptying into a 
muddy mill-pond. The fishable distance 
was not more than three-quarters of a 
mile. More than all, local anglers had 
about given it up, although it was fished 
early in the season each year. It was 
the ordinary trout brook, — swift water 
alternating with deep pools. The day 
was lowery. The time was late August. 
The water was low. I used a wet-fly, the 
Parmacheene Belle, using only two flies, 
the one the big fellow got away with, and 
another as much like it as possible. I 
used a short line, never over fifteen feet. 
The fish lay mostly in the upper end of 
the pools, just at the foot of the swift 
water. Yet I hardly made a cast any- 
where without getting a response. I 
knew little about dry-fly fishing at that 
time, and did not try it much that day. 
I attributed much of my success to the 
fact that I used a knotless leader, about 
six feet long, which I had drawn from 
the Cecropia silk-worm, one of our large 
native spinners. 
Two years ago, again late in August, 
when I was rather “up” on the dry-fly, I 
was trying out a small brook emptying 
into an Adirondack lake. The day was 
bright, the time about noon. The only 
place where trout were found was in a 
little pond, where a solitary “he” beaver 
had established himself. “Here,” I said 
to my partner, “is the place for the dry- 
fly.” I had at least a dozen varieties, 
and tried them all during an hour or so. 
Then I changed my mind and put on a 
wet-fly, and fished for a time in the con- 
ventional way, a few inches under, but 
with no better result, though I tried every 
part of the pool. 
Finally I allowed the wet fly to sink 
about two feet and drew it along in a 
series of slow jerks, about a foot at a 
time. Suddenly came a yank, and soon a 
nine-inch trout was creeled. Half an 
hour’s work brought in four more of 
about the same size. Evidently no “dry- 
fly,” nor “wet-fly” as ordinarily fished, 
would have produced results in this case. 
I studied out the situation. The water 
was about four feet deep, and of a dark 
brown color. The trout either could not 
see the dry-fly or the wet when near the 
surface, or else would not rise. But, when 
the lure was put down close enough to 
them, they took it readily. 
D URING the same summer, we went 
on a trip over to the Red River. In- 
quiry of a native, a lumberjack, 
brought out the statement that the fish at 
that season, late August, were lying just 
below the logging-dams, where the fall- 
ing water had hollowed out a deep pool. 
A slight breeze was blowing up-stream. 
The water was low and clear. The air 
was bright; the time noon. Evidently 
conditions indicated the dry-fly. Several 
were tried, but the Mole proved to be the 
winner. I fished the pool for about two 
hours, but caught no trout over six inches 
in length, though large chub were plenti- 
ful. One very large fish took the fly and 
broke the leader. It may have been a 
trout, or 
Last summer, while camping by an 
Adirondack lake, rises were plentiful in 
the evening, up until it grew dark. These 
tempted me out with rod and fly. I fished 
“wet,” and caught nothing except a few 
shiners and small chub. Much bait-fish- 
ing was done in the evening for lake 
trout at a buoy. Along in August, this 
sport fell off considerably. Many fish of 
some sort or other were rising around the 
canoe, although the depth of the water 
was about fifty feet. Surface-fishing was 
evidently on. But the only natural on 
the water appeared to be a small black 
gnat. The water was dimpling, as sharp- 
pointed back-fins were continuously show- 
ing above the water. The moon was 
shining brightly, and the water was clear. 
I happened to have a three-ounce fly-rod 
in the canoe. Curiosity led me to put on 
an Olive Dun, and fish dry. As I had 
out a bait-rod and a hand-line, I rested 
the fly rod on the gun-wale and watched 
the fly bob around in the light evening 
wind, which just rippled the water. Sud- 
denly the fly disappeared, but before I 
could lay down the bait-rod, take up the 
fly-rod, and strike, it was too late. This 
happened several times. Then my curi- 
osity to find out what was really happen- 
ing induced me to set the bait-rod and 
hand-line, take up the fly-rod, and be 
ready for the next. 
It soon came. A quick strike drove the 
barb in and the fight began. After sev- 
eral minutes of give and take, I reeled in 
a beautiful Adirondack frostfish, about 
fourteen inches long, hooked squarely in 
the lower jaw. On the lake, the wet fly 
