Back in January, I posted a news story about Sister Carol Anne Corely, who is a long-time fly tier and trout fisherman. She also teaches the kids at St. John’s School in Arkansas how to spin up bugs. In that article, it said one of her signature patterns is the Resurrection Fly, which incorporates Easter grass. The other day I was at the drug store and noticed the, um, entire aisle devoted to this colorful shredded plastic. Taking a cue from Sister Carol Anne, I decided to see what I could come up with at the vise. I figured for $.89 a bag, it was worth a shot, and if it was any good, I’d have a big enough supply with just two bags to last until the Rapture. Here are the five patterns born of this madness.


Ol’ Dirty Grasstard: Easter grass, I learned, is much more durable than Mylar or Flashabou. With that in mind, I figure this fly will withstand multiple pike chomps before retirement. The grass is pretty kinky out of the bag, but if you give the strands a stretch, they limp right up and should breathe nicely.


Brunch Worm: Turns out that Easter grass makes stellar body wrap that creates the look of real thorax segments. Though I’m sure it would work nicely on just about any nymph or stonefly, I went wormy. I’d drift this grassie green weenie for everything from spring stockers to fall steelhead.


Silly Rabbit: You bonefishermen have heard of a Crazy Charlie. This is the Silly Rabbit (work with me, here). The stiffer grass tail may scratch away at sand and mud a little better on the strip, perhaps creating a stronger visual cue for bones. The material may also mimic the mouth feel of shrimp shell pretty well, too. Of course, until I hit the flats, this is all just wild speculation.


Cadbury Carp Egg: Green Easter grass makes an excellent berry stem. Then again, we’re talking about carp which could likely care less about anatomically correct morsels. Bottom line: they’re going to eat that.


Peep Toad: I’ve tied similar diving frog patterns for largemouths, but never with Easter grass legs and arms. I didn’t stretch the strands for this pattern, leaving them stiff and kinky. I’m hoping that extra rigidity will help them stay flared when the frog dives and hovers back up. We’ll find out this summer.