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The popularity
of panfish poppers and nondescript warmwater attractors continues unabated,
largely because anglers simply don't know what food form to imitate in
the absence of an obvious insect emergence or other identifiable feeding
event. Fecund southern ecosystems are much richer than most coldwater
habitat, and the sunfish menu is infinitely longer. The swamp, creek or
pond is only a part, although a vital part, of a larger community of plants
and animals, and informed pattern selection requires some under standing
of the complex interrelationships among the terrestrial and aquatic organisms
that form that community.
It is not possible to study terrestrial insects apart from the plants
in which they dwell. Insects, including aquatics, either feed directly
on plants during some phase of their life cycle or depend, in predaceous
or parasitical ways, upon organisms that do. Many are host-specific on
a single species, or genus, of plants or fungi, while others utilize a
wider range of habitat and foods, but most are closely associated, at
the very least, with a specific botanical family. Only in understanding
the role that plants play at the bottom of the food chain can the warmwater
angler hope to catch a glimpse of that sublime order that governs the
deceptively chaotic world of tiny creatures that buzz by the millions
where the pond meets the land. Intelligent fly selection requires not
only that the angler distinguish between oak and maple, goldenrod and
pigweed, azalea and iris, but that he also seek to understand how these
plants compliment each other in well-defined systems. Insects are a vital,
integral part of all plant communities and inseparable there-from. Gardeners
and naturalists will readily understand why the sophisticated warmwater
fly fisher devotes as much study to botany as to entomology.
I had the pleasure of fishing a beautiful pond on a private estate last
spring. The owner assured me that the pond holds a good population of
large bluegill. I rigged my three-weight, launched the tube and pondered
the question of fly selection because I wanted to exhaust the dry fly
possibilities before resorting to nymphs. There was a time when I would
have simply tied a little yellow popper with white rubber legs to a 2X
tippet and  starting
casting blindly to the shoreline, all the while decrying the fact that
I wasn't on a trout stream where the fishing was REALLY interesting. I
had a working knowledge of trout stream ecology. but knew little of the
organisms that sunfish eat from day to day. I usually caught a few bluegill
on the popper, to be sure, but once I matured as a serious fisher of bream
and graduated from simplistic attractors, I discovered that the warmwater
experience can be far more fulfilling.
After a brief chat with my genial host, I gathered rod, vest and tube
and strolled down to the pond. The mirror-like surface was unbroken by
any aquatic hatch or other visible feeding activity, but the spring time
sunshine was enhanced by a gorgeous display of bright blue iris along
the far bank. It was impossible for Mononychus vulpeculus, the
iris weevil, to have missed such an opportunity. It. was late enough in
the spring for the plump, pink larvae to have matured and the mating flight
had likely taken place. Chances were good that bluegill had recently dined
on a few of the small, brown adults and remained in the area, hoping that
more would be forthcoming. I selected a size-IA Black Beetle palmered
with a soft hen hackle (I didn't have a brown one), and presented it to
the base of the iris stalks that grew at the water's edge. I also knew
that the little weevils would be virtually motionless on the water except
for a slow ambulatory movement of the legs. I let the hen hackle do its
job unassisted and took a nice bluegill on the third cast, followed by
several more as I moved down the row of iris blooms. Would the yellow
popper have worked as well? Perhaps. But I would not have had as much
fun. The afternoon would have been only marginally gratifying had I incognizant
settled for an attractor of some sort. I BELIEVED that my pattern was
appropriate and I fished it with confidence.
These principles and strategies apply not only to fishing the dry fly
but also to casting bugs and lures to largermouth bass. Bass are more
easily duped than bream, since they do not subject the offering to a rigid
inspection and will readily snatch any living organism, regardless of
its familiarity (as long as they don't associate that food form with some
past trauma).
I regularly fish ponds on commercial timber land and am often greeted
by the pleasant smell of freshly cut pine. The sawyer beetle (Monochainus
notatus) is strongly attracted to that fragrance and can be expected
to pay
a call. So, I choose a gray/brown, size-2 hair bug to imitate that large
Coleoptera. I have made an informed decision instead of ju no sawyer beetles
show up, whether my theory is erroneous or my fly poorly-tied, I am certainly
as well off with the gray/brown bug as with a red! yellow one. There is
no penalty to pay in selecting the gray bug.
I am not talking about a "hatch" of sawyer beetles, or a major
feeding event of some kind, but only appealing to the bass's natural opportunism
in a way that is in tune with nature and consistent with the habitat.
I have good reason for confidence in my offering, and if it pays off all
the better. If I see a single sawyer beetle I am gratified at my own cleverness.
If I see several I am ecstatic. If a bass takes a natural that has fallen
into the pond, I experience that familiar adrenaline rush that every angler
knows. If I actually catch a fish on the bug I selected, I have earned
the right to smugly gloat with satisfaction. Taking the same bass on a
red/yellow offering, that I cannot rationalize as consistent with prevailing
conditions, does not provide those coveted and cherished rewards.
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