The Little Black Dress
In Sex, Death and Fly-fishing, John Gierach discusses how fly fishermen may fancy themselves philosopher/poets, thereby pulling off the very neat trick of feeling more and more superior by way of catching fewer and fewer fish. I myself enjoy the warm, smug glow I get from getting skunked while sticking with zombie-like steadfastness to my chosen technique/fly/rod/spot.
However, whenever one feels less like a philosopher and more like interfering with fish, there are few things one can do that are more productive than tying on a woolly bugger.
Woolly buggers can be tied in a size or colour to catch pretty much any kind of fish that has ever grabbed a hook. It's not always possible to even know why a particular fish takes them at a particular time, except that woolly buggers look a lot like lunch. Or dinner. Or something they want to kill. Or something to pick up and move out of the way, or something to taste, or- something.
It's the little black dress of the fly tying world. Or it would be, if little black dresses caught fish with wanton, reckless abandon. What more need be said about it?
The basic, standard bugger- as were its ancestors, the sadly unfashionable woolly worm and palmer flies- is simple, easy to tie, fashioned from inexpensive, readily available materials and terrifically effective.
It is a fly that seems to fall out of the vise directly into the maws of fish everywhere, and it does so with poise, workman-like grace and (as far as anything in fly fishing goes) near-perfect efficiency: so of course we have to mess with it.
Amongst the countless variants, rip-offs, homages and other bugger-inspired patterns I submit this humble offering. Half of the body is synthetic dubbing spun with thin rubber legs. It has no chenille under-body, and the front hackle is more collared than palmered. Is it even a woolly bugger at all?
Of course it is. We're poets, us fly-fishers. And some flies transcend mere details of construction to become philosophies.
However, whenever one feels less like a philosopher and more like interfering with fish, there are few things one can do that are more productive than tying on a woolly bugger.
Woolly buggers can be tied in a size or colour to catch pretty much any kind of fish that has ever grabbed a hook. It's not always possible to even know why a particular fish takes them at a particular time, except that woolly buggers look a lot like lunch. Or dinner. Or something they want to kill. Or something to pick up and move out of the way, or something to taste, or- something.
It's the little black dress of the fly tying world. Or it would be, if little black dresses caught fish with wanton, reckless abandon. What more need be said about it?
The basic, standard bugger- as were its ancestors, the sadly unfashionable woolly worm and palmer flies- is simple, easy to tie, fashioned from inexpensive, readily available materials and terrifically effective.
It is a fly that seems to fall out of the vise directly into the maws of fish everywhere, and it does so with poise, workman-like grace and (as far as anything in fly fishing goes) near-perfect efficiency: so of course we have to mess with it.
Amongst the countless variants, rip-offs, homages and other bugger-inspired patterns I submit this humble offering. Half of the body is synthetic dubbing spun with thin rubber legs. It has no chenille under-body, and the front hackle is more collared than palmered. Is it even a woolly bugger at all?
Of course it is. We're poets, us fly-fishers. And some flies transcend mere details of construction to become philosophies.
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| Black sort of woolly bugger. Crappy cell phone picture. |
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