434 
THE FISHING GAZETTE 
[June 10, 1893 
west coast, and a few, a very few, are still to be 
found not far from the riverside, indulging, 
quite probably, in language not the choicest, at 
their ‘ hard lines.’ Colonels Vivian and Annack 
left Delfur Lodge for London on Wednesday, 
without landing a' single fish, and they are not 
exceptions.” _ 
Johnnie Sutherland, of Durness, writes: “ The 
Kyle is in good trim at present for fishing. 
There are slight showers of rain almost every^ 
day, which only serves to give the water the 
proper colour, and does not allow the fish to 
leave the Kyle. Fresh-run fish are coming in 
with every tide. I have been here for sixteen 
years, and I never saw the Kyle in better order 
than at present; it is a pity that anglers are not 
arriving, as they are allowing the best of the 
season to slip. Mr. H. W. Davis, London, on 
1st inst, caught twelve fish which weighed 141b.; 
on 2nd, twenty, 271b.; and on ord, twenty-four, 
321b.; largest 2|lb. On 5th, Mr. T. T. McKay 
caught four beauties scaling 51b., largest l^lb.” 
A BEAUTIFUL ti’out of fi.jlb. was caught on Loch 
Eannoch by Mr. Peddie, Perth, last Friday. 
Trout-fishing on the Ythan last week showed 
a marked improvement. Several capital baskets 
have been got. The largest fish of the season— 
a splendid trout of 31b.—was got by the Rev. P. 
Anton, Kilsyth. 
FLY-FISHING IN THE TEME. 
By Fr.yncis T. B. Hurly. 
Most fishermen, I imagine, have a favourite 
stream; a stream to which, when absent, their 
thoughts naturally revert, and where memory 
can revel in many a vision of bygone happy days. 
There may be several reasons to account for this 
partiality. Perhaps it is the stream where we 
first learnt the rudiments, or, possibly it is that 
which, now-a-days, we oftenest fish, and so know 
best. However this may be, I think such a 
stream exists for most of us, and for my owm 
part I am exceedingly thankful that such is the 
case. 
The stream whose name heads this article is 
my partiality—the Teme ; the Teme I oftenest 
fish, and in the Teme I caught that piscatorial 
phenomenon, “ my first trout,” which reason alone 
I consider is ample justification for the exalted 
place it holds in my affections. 
But even at this point I am compelled to 
desist, for conscience will not be denied. Was it in 
the Teme that I caught ray first trout ? “ Yes,” 
says that inward monitor, ” it was in the Teme 
that you caught your first trout with a fly, but 
you caught several trout long before that with a 
nightdine ; you know perfectly well that you did. 
And what is more, you caught several trout long 
before then, by prodding them through the back 
with an extempore harpoon, fashioned out of a 
kitchen three-pronged fork, and with barbs filed 
in each of the side prongs, and the whole lashed 
to a stout hazle stick. Neither is that the end 
of your delinquencies, for you well recollect how 
you and others used to dam up the pools of a 
certain little brook, and turning the W'ater 
through a new channel, collar trout, eels, stickle¬ 
backs, and everything else you could find, you 
atrocious miscreant.” 
Well, it is true. I hope I may be forgiven, for 
I knew no better, and, indeed, glorious sport we 
deemed it. I hope my ideas of “ sport ” have 
undergone development. At any rate the trout 
was enhanced in my estimation, and the superi¬ 
ority of the artificial fly as a means of taking them 
fully brought home to me after that first notable 
capture with a fly; insignificant specimen of his 
race though he was, but withal plump and golden 
bellied, and, as the first fruits of a new art, some¬ 
thing to be proud of. 
But to get on to the Teme, and for the sake 
of distinction and accuracy let me state that I 
speak of the Teme at Ludlow. Those of my 
readers who know Ludlow will bear me out when 
1 say that either from the point of view of a 
fisherman, or of anyone who can appreciate the 
beauties of nature, there are few spots where 
their several tastes can be better satisfied. The 
old town itself, with its quaint irregularity of 
streets and buildings, seeming to have so little in 
sympathy with the nineteenth century, carries 
with it a charm which is quite its own. Above 
all the grand old church and stately tower rears 
its head. Ludlow again would hardly be Ludlow 
without its castle, but I forbear description. 
Beneath and around the castle flows the Teme, 
sweeping under two ancient bridges. The Teme 
here looks worthy to be a salmon river, as indeed 
it is, but unfortunately the fish can only come up 
when the season is over. At Ashford, some five 
miles below, salmon in great numbers may be 
seen in the floods scaling the horse-shoe weir. It 
is a great pity that nothing is done to help them 
past the barriers below earlier in tbe season. As 
far as trout and grayling are concerned the water 
between the bridges is, I believe, free fishing, but 
I cannot speak of it from personal experience. 
Speaking of the bridges reminds me that old 
Ludford bridge is no more. The greater portion 
of it was washed down some years since, but it has 
been rebuilt, and the triangular buttresses are as 
of yore. Below Ludford bridge for nearly a mile 
the water is unfishable. On one side runs the 
road, and, with the exception of one or two 
streams, is all deep water. The Ludford Park 
water is below this and continues for several 
miles, and is strictly preserved. This water 1 
know well, as, through the kindness of its late 
owner, I had permission to fish it. 
There are few views to my mind more typically 
representativeofatrout stream than the Teme here 
presents as you turn through the stile from the 
road to the first fishable water below. For half 
a mile the eye catches a vista of rocky pools, 
glittering streams, and shingly glides, while, as 
far as can be seen, the stream flows in a mighty 
crescent under a steep decline coming to the 
water’s edge, and thickly covered with lofty trees 
and thick underwood. 
It is rather ticklish wading to get across so as 
to fish the first pool up. The water pours 
through a rocky channel, and you must know 
your ground and tread it carefully. Despite the 
proximity of the road and the consequent facility 
this stream offers to be poached, there are some 
splendid fish in it, both trout and grayling. There 
is a corner on the far side, still and scummy, 
where at certain times the frequent boils denote 
the presence of good fish, and many a pounder 
have I had out of here. This was also a favourite 
place with me for grayling, but at certain times 
to get the big ones it was necessary to employ a 
particular plan, the invention, I believe, of a 
friend of mine, from whom, with much besides, 
I learnt it. There are certain places, heads of 
rough pools, where the big fish sometimes rise 
with the most encouraging persistency, but where 
you may expend a large amount of your available 
stock of patience, trying them with a wet fly, and 
then leave them in disgust. The difficulty is to 
get a dry fly to float, as the water is so broken 
and sinks the line immediately. The plan is 
simply to wade in as near as you can get, and 
reel up your line till there is little besides the 
casting line out, and dry your fly—waving it 
about—as dry as toast, then simply lower it on 
to the water, allowing the least possible amount 
of gut to touch the w'ater. It will float a yard or 
two by this method in the roughest water, and 
the avidity with which the fish will take it when 
so offered is astonishing. Of course it is only 
possible with grayling who do not mind you 
getting near them. It is also very useful on 
very blustery days. I have frequently killed 
fish between the gusts in this way when the 
wind was so strong that it was quite impos¬ 
sible to keep the flies on the water by ordinary 
methods. 
I was once witness to a curious little scene, 
which I remember in this connection because 1 
happened to be fishing in this very way at the 
time. It was an October morning some years 
since; I was standing in the river drying my fly, 
having just landed a good fish. Down the path 
in the covert opposite I noticed two suspicious 
looking individuals accompanied by a large black 
lurcher. The elder of the two men had on an 
old rusty velveteen tail-coat, the tails of which 
bulged out very prominently, and it did not 
require a great amount of intuition to guest 
their contents. The justice of my suspicion was 
soon to be confirmed. They passed out of sight, 
but five minutes or so later back they came up 
the bank, the dog in front and the men following, 
while a hundred yards in the rear two policemen, 
a young one and a stouter and more elderly 
member of the force, who looked in danger of 
bursting a blood vessel, formed the pack. The 
curious thing was to see the capacity of those 
tail-pockets. I do not know what they thought 
they were doing, unless it was to lighten them¬ 
selves, but rabbits, six or seven, and two or 
three pheasants, were thrown out with quite 
reckless extravagance, but in the most incrimi¬ 
nating manner. The chase did not last long as 
the hill was too much for all parties, and when 
about ten yards only separated them they all 
pulled up, and came to an understanding, which 
consisted in the stout policeman plunging his 
hand without ceremony or apology into the tails 
and extracting another rabbit or two. They then 
proceeded in the most friendly way towards the 
town. 
Dry-fly fishing was an unknown art on the 
Teme about Ludlow a very few years ago. 
Indeed, the one or two persons who used it were 
looked upon as something in the nature of 
lunatics; but I have myself had the gratification 
of convincing a few people to the contrary. There 
are streams in the Teme which are quite perfec¬ 
tion for the dry fly, chiefly no doubt for grayling, 
but in many places for trout as well. At Steven- 
ton there is a farmhouse built right above the 
bank of the river, and the wall is carried down to 
the water. The stream below is simply a delight¬ 
ful one, and used to be, at any rate, a marvellous 
stream for big grayling, and it did much to 
encourage my earliest efforts. At the head there 
is a large tree, with branches coming nearly 
across the stream, which flows down under the 
wall for about thirty yards ; a smooth continued 
glide, from two to three feet deep all the way. 
Here, in perfect stillness, you could follow a 
bubble, or a leaf, or a speck of scum, or 
the tiny ephemera, or your own fly travelling 
jauntily down, and with perfect ease note the 
whole process — the silver gleam from the dark¬ 
ness b°low, and the broad side glance, as your 
rod point goes up swift and soft, and j’ou have 
him. In such places one cannot but be bitten 
with the perfect asstheticism of the dry fly. I 
have seen this stream alive with rising fish, and 
have frequently filled my basket at this place 
alone ; but more often when there were but few 
fish to be seen moving. When the boiling con¬ 
dition was on it was generally at those tiny pests 
which defy our powers to imitate. I have tried 
all sorts of things, but nothing satisfactory. The 
best, I think, is a No. 000 hook, with one or two 
turns of starling’s breast, and on the bend of the 
hook a tag of plain cork. Of course the tag 
alone is as big us the real fly, but, according to 
my theory, it is not regarded by the fish as 
belonging to the fly; and serves to keep the fly 
on the top of the water, and rather hides the bend 
than anything else. This, however, will rise them, 
but from the size of the hook they are more often 
touched than hooked. 1 have done best with a 
fly quite different and a good deal bigger. I do 
not think it matters much what one tries, but I 
give the first choice to anything that I have 
taken fish with during the day. A Pink Wickham 
is not bad, and a Little Chap occasionally kills, 
but of course it is very unsatisfactory work. 
Early in the season, on the Teme, there is very 
little need to use a dry fly, as the trout take the 
wet quite freely. There are, however, times even 
fairly early in the season, say from the middle to 
the end of April and the first days of May, when 
it pays. During a heavy rise of March Brown, 
which is often very late, I have found a dry fly 
of a different pattern—the Dark (Hive and the 
Hare’s Ear particularly — do much better than the 
Brown on the water. As far as my own experience 
goes, I have found the JMarch Brown consistently 
disappointing, and never more so than when they 
are up in swarms, and the fish taking them 
freely on the top of the water. Then I would use 
anything else in preference, but dry. One of the 
best all-round flies in the Teme until after May is 
a combination between a Blue Dun and a Hare’s 
Ear, dressed large, hook No. 1, Fennel scale, body 
hare’s ear, ribbed flat gold tinsel, and fairly full, 
whisks and hackle dark blue dun, and very little 
of it, wings dark starling. 
(To be continued.) 
