Feather & Thread
Posted on July 31, 2016 by bob in OffTheBeatenPath
I tied my first fly at 10 years old. Covered in red chenille from eye to point, the hook shank disappeared underneath green marabou that peeked out from under a wad of gray rabbit fur. Coiled loosely around this was an entire package of top grade peacock hackle, all materials courtesy of my father’s fly-tying kit. 
That fly had everything: rubber spinnerbait-skirt legs, a long feathery tail, a worm rattle buried somewhere under all that rabbit fur, and for some reason, two sets of eyes, one behind the other. It was likely the two sets of beady eyes, but my little sister couldn’t be left alone with that fly. It resembled more a hairy Jolly Rancher™ than any aquatic prey species. I don’t think you could have cast it double-handed with a marlin rod, and Dad’s best attempts with his 9-weight likely contributed to his carpal tunnel many years later.
“That’s a fish-killer right there,” my father said, stretching the truth to the breaking point. “Will you tie me one?” He obviously didn’t realize half his tying kit’s materials had gone into that one fly.
I obliged, and fished another long shank hook from the package, eager to begin mass production of what was sure to be the next big thing in the angling world. Sadly, sales could not keep pace with manufacturing costs, and the “Hairy Jolly Rancher” never moved from R&D to the assembly line.
As my skills at the fly bench improved, Dad’s attitude toward my feather-and-thread creations turned from fatherly support to genuine interest. I could knock out several different patterns in a sitting, and would throw different versions of streamers, woolly worms or willow flies his way. Then, we’d move to the most enjoyable stage, product testing.
Some of those flies actually caught fish, while others just spooked them. We kept the good ones and tossed the spookers in the “Hairy Jolly Rancher” pile. Thankfully, we had access to testing grounds close to the “plant”. Down the street from our house were several ponds with bass, bream and carp, eager but unknowing test subjects for my feather-and-thread creations.
Dad and I would meet after work or school at the same spot and devise a strategy for the afternoon, splitting the pond and walking its perimeter, never out of sight – or shouting distance – when one of use would lay into a big one. We’d meet afterward and compare notes. May and early June were our favorite times. The weather was still comfortable, and the yellow mayfly hatch on one pond in particular provided the kind of fabled cast-and-catch action regaled in fishermen’s tall tales. Except ours were all true. To this day, Dad and I would put that yellow mayfly pattern we devised up against anyone’s.
But we weren’t just fashioning feathers and fur to fishhooks hoping for a bite, we were threading together a mutual and lifelong passion for fishing home-tied flies. More than two decades after my first fly, I laugh thinking about that “Hairy Jolly Rancher,” and venture a guess Dad’s wrist still hurts from trying his best to fish it for me.
Niko Corley is a USCG-licensed charter boat captain and spends his free time on the water or in the woods. To contact him e-mail niko.corley@gmail.com.
