You cast a hopper fly at a rising trout tucked against the cutbank... the fish follows your fly, and rejects it at the very last instant... what do you do?

The answer to this pop quiz question is D, switch flies.

Let's break down why that's the best answer...

Option A.  Sit on the bank and cry.  Nah, haven't cried since my Snoopy rod broke.

Option B. Cast again, this time tighter to the bank.  Nah, there's no reason to believe the fish will like the fly any more in a different line, if it clearly saw it, followed it, and refused it the last time around.  The number one instinct is to re-cast right away (oh, I need a better cast), and that's probably the worst thing you can do.

Option C.  Wait five minutes and cast again.  Well, yeah, but during those five minutes if you switch flies to another terrestrial... all the better.

Option D.  Yes.  Switch flies.  Guide Bob Lamm proved this lesson to me many years ago on the Railroad Ranch section of the Henry's Fork.  The switching of flies is particularly important when you are fishing hoppers.  If you get refused on a mayfly hatch, size down on the same pattern (or go to a cripple).  On the hopper bite... purely opportunistic feeding... assume it's a one-shot deal.  Three casts with the wrong bug at the right fish will put that fish down and shut off your opportunity.

Option E. Size down on your tippet.  Puh-leeze.  You're throwing a #10 Club Sandwich and you think the difference was 5X vs 6X?  No way.

Option F.  Move upstream, make downstream presentation.  A solid option number 2.

Option G.  Move on and find another fish.  What, are you nuts?  After one cast?  After a few casts with a few flies, then move.

Two more updates:  I went elkless for 2009 archery season; and TOMORROW Tim and I float the Colorado River with Joe Cermele from the Honest Angler blog.  Do you think there's any way he'll HONESTLY not get bounced out of the raft?

Deeter

Here's a real-life fishing scenario that popped up yesterday.  I am happy to report that I was able to solve the problem and land a beautiful 18-inch wild brown trout on the Dolores River in Colorado.

Let's see if you get the right answer.

You're fishing along a grassy cutbank.  It's windy.  It's bright.  Definitely a grasshopper day.  You notice a nice shady pool along the bank and, wham! a big ol' trout eats something off the surface.  You make a perfect cast... here he comes... here he comes... he's gonna eat it... and just when he's about to chomp down, he changes his mind.

You got refused.

Do you...

A. Sit on the bank and cry?

B. Cast again, this time a little tighter to the bank?

C. Wait five minutes, then cast again?

D. Switch flies, then cast again?

E. Size down on your tippet before you make another cast? (Anyone who follows this blog and picks this answer is DQ'd from the next caption contest...)

F. Move upstream, and cast again making a downstream presentation.

G. Accept the fact that you just were given "the fin" and find another fish?

Answer Monday, when I return from elk camp.  No elk yet... got within about 75 yards of a 6x6 yesterday morning.  Bugling and angry, but I could not move him downwind with a cow call.  (Hence the reason I took an afternoon for fishing.)

Deeter

This just in, courtesy of my friend John Kirk.  A recent study apparently suggests that fish might indeed sense pain.

I know, I know... It's not really a breaking news item.  After all, PETA and others have been on the "don't hurt the sea kittens" soap box for years.

My question is simple:  If indeed science proves that fish can sense pain (and, by the way, what a useful and important thing to focus research efforts on... not like we'd rather see a cure for Alzheimer's, etc...), do you even care?  Are you in the least bit inclined to hang up the rod?  Or are you content knowing that the next time someone suggests you "sore-lip" a few trout, you might be doing exactly that?

Deeter

It's that time of year, when I put the fly fishing mania completely on hold for one week, head off into the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado, set up camp, and hunt for elk.

As you can see from the photo, I put in a lot of serious effort last winter, um, scouting and doing my homework.  For the record, the hot tub hunting didn't pan out so well last season, so I'm doubling my efforts in a serious quest to fill the freezer.

I'm hunting with a Wapiti recurve bow... cedar shaft arrows... hiking, calling, and stalking.  After all, I am a fly fisherman.  I live for the simple tools (stick and string).  By the way, Cap'n Gregg Arnold of Louisiana redfish fame will be joining us in camp again this year... I think he's bringing the camo Mardi Gras beads for his lucky juju.

But don't get me wrong... when the week is over, it'll be back to full contact fly fishing.  Autumn is my favorite time to fish.  When everyone else is fished out and in the field hunting, I'm usually still on the stream.  How about you?  Fished out?  Switched mental gears to full-on hunting mode?  Or is it all fishing, all the time, with the occasional hunting adventure mixed in? 

Wish us luck. When the fly guys trade their waders for camo, we need all the help we can get.

Deeter