Celebrating Fish

Most of us who angle have our favorite species to fish for.  In my case it is trout and carp.  However, if it's in the water I wish to pursue it.  It's a celebration of fish. 

Here are a few pictures from yesterday. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes the smaller the fish, the prettier the fish.

 

 

 

 

Hola Carp

Charlie has returned from Mexico and wasted no time at all in saying hello to his favored carp.  Charlie tells me the Mirror actually chased down a red-tail Creek Critter.

 

My trips to the carp creek have been few and far between primarily due to the business of life and a struggling creek.  I did make a trip two days ago and found a carp that drew a fancy for the Aftermath.

 

 

Although things are quite bad as far as the creek, I hold great excitement for the next ten days where we stand a chance of receiving rain each day.  Then, Charlie and I can get after the carp on a more serious note.

 





In Love With Pretty Tail

I loved pretty tail as a young man.  I love pretty tail now as an older man.  I own this fascination for pretty tail.  My philosophy, when it comes to tail, is that it would be insulting to not look at pretty tail and therefore I have always tried to do my best and look as much as I can. 

On the creek yesterday I was facing a quite stained waterway due to the wonderful rains we received recently.  As I stared into the coffee I saw what looked like a small orange flag waving in the water.  Almost as soon as it appeared it also disappeared from sight.  However, there were bubbles and with a thirty foot roll cast I place the Aftermath at the head of the bubbles.  A count of five and slow lift of the rod tip, tension felt, hook-set made, and I got my pretty tail.

 

 

Long live pretty tail. 

 

Mad Dash To The River

Thursday was a horribly slow day at the mercantile store.  I guess many folks are busy trying to get those last few gifts under the Christmas tree.  I found myself pacing back and forth, from one end to the other of the store and there was an uneasiness in me. 

That uneasy feeling stems from me constantly watching the weather, and in that I knew another northern front was headed our way and expected to arrive on Friday.  If a fellow didn't get to the river on this day, then it might be a week or better before conditions improved. 

Shortly after the lunch hour it became more than I could bear and I informed my young boss I would be taking a very long lunch break.  I assured him, however, that my return to the store would be imminent and he should not worry his young self.  My mad dash to the river was on.

Of course I just wanted, and needed, some river time.  But, there was another reason I wanted to hit the Blue and see if the bows were frisky... or not.  On Sunday, I had fair success with the Frenchie fly pattern and all this time the question on my mind asked if this pattern's performance was a fluke or real deal?

Wednesday night I churned out a bit more than a gaggle of Frenchie patterns in sizes 14 and 16 of the colors pink, chartreuse, and olive. This pattern calls for ice dubbing for the thorax, but due to my fly tying material inventory under some kind of austerity currently I used rabbit fur.  On Sunday, the rabbit fur didn't seem to matter at all to the trout - they seem to rather like it. 

I think fly tying is a marriage between the tyer and material.  As a tyer, I should never let myself become divorced from the vital materials needed.  Besides, this philosophy I carry is also a good excuse to go out and buy more stuff. 

I arrived at the river at almost exactly 2 p.m.  It was, for the most part, overcast with the sun making sporadic and feeble attempts to break through the soup in the sky.  The wind was solid and unrelenting straight out of the south.  The temperature was comfortable, even with the wind.  The river today was a pretty as I have ever seen her.  She is still showing that unique emerald hue, clear as a bell in most places, and today the river just looked fresh.  However, I am sad to report the flow and volume is diminishing.  Hopefully this weekend's rains will replenish.

 

As I walked across the top of Horseshoe Falls, there were bugs - lots of bugs.  Bugs in the color dark brown or black and skittering everywhere.  About 100 feet upstream I could see the trout keying on these critters, but that stretch of water is almost impossible for the fly fisher to get to without some kind of sailing vessel. 

 

I walked out on the ledge that Van and I favor whenever we come to this particular place.  It is deep here and I'm not sure exactly how deep, but I do believe it is one of the deepest runs on the Blue.  I would be fishing under an indicator today, but did not set my indicator to the depth of this run.  In other words, I fished it much more shallow than the rule of thumb tells us to.

 

Although I came to test the Frenchie, the chartreuse Copper John from my last outing was still tied on and I sent him sailing to the sea lane.  The first two casts resulted in two eats, along with two misses, which I seem quite prone to doing these days.  However, they say the third time is a charm and on the third cast the first bow of the afternoon would come in for branding.

 

 

Leaving the Copper John in action, two more bows would come my way.  The wind was so prolific today it interfered with the angler getting a natural drift.  The wind was blowing from downstream to upstream and here I was casting upstream for a downstream drift.  The indicator basically was floundered by the wind.  Usually when drifting I let the drift do the work, but today in order to capture a bow a little twitch had to be employed.

 

 

After three bows had been landed, I relieved the Copper John of duty and tied on a size 15 pink Frenchie.  As I put the Frenchie in the drink I wondered if it would indeed produce or not.  My answer came sooner rather than later.  The Frenchie seems to be the real deal.

 

 

 

The pink Frenchie would go on to capture four trout.  With time growing short I decided to try a size 14 chartreuse Frenchie.  This color didn't seem to be as attractive as the pink, but did manage one bow before my time was up. 

 

I wish I could have stayed all afternoon and more so I wish I would have had some company.  From where I was fishing I could see a good 1/8th of a mile upstream and twice that much downstream, and there wasn't a soul on the river.  The Blue looked quite lonely today.

 

In the white wagon at 3:28, I drove off the river having the pleasure of meeting eight citizens of the trout community at Blue.  

 







Dear Carp - Reminiscing

Dear Carp,

On my most recent visit with your kind I found myself reminiscing about a time that Charlie and I came to your home together.  It was three years ago to the day when not only Charlie and I came, but two young chaps with the television show Outdoor Oklahoma also came.

Outdoor Oklahoma wanted to do an outdoor show about fly fishing for carp and of course we were excited about helping.  Yes, we captured several of your lot and all of it was captured on film.  It was a day of Lights, Camera, Carp.

Since that filming the show has aired numerous times and most seemed quite pleased with the production.  One exception was the local game ranger.  He reported that upon the initial airing of this film his phone began to ring and didn't stop.  The outdoor public was highly interested in fly fishing for carp and on one hand that is a good thing.  On the other hand though, it caused Charlie and me some concern.  Of course we will always be willing to introduce new people to this sport, but we also know how some species have become pressured to the point it almost becomes exploitation and we do not want that to happen to you.

Now on my most recent trip to visit your lot I brought the gift that has seemed to be your favorite - the Aftermath.  The first three citizens I would connect with all broke off our talks rather abruptly, which seemed highly unusual and gave me cause to inspect the line I use to connect with you.  That inspection revealed a severe roughness in the line and that roughness was dispensed of.  A new Aftermath went on and the next citizen would come in for the branding.

He was a pretty lad. 

 

Still, I am not getting to spend near the time I wish with your community, but things may change someday.  Until then, I wish you well.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher

Dear Carp - The Milestone Day

Dear Carp,

Yesterday was March 28th.  That date most likely holds no significance for you my friends, but in my life and the life of Charlie... it certainly does.

Three years ago yesterday marks the date that Charlie and me decided to pursue conversation with you and your kinship and do so in the most passionate way.  It was March 28th, 2010 when I caught my first carp, by way of fly, and doing so with a passion burning inside me.  A few days later, Charlie caught his first carp on the fly with the same burning passion. 

Both of us, Charlie and me, had come to converse with you and your kind many years prior.  But, we didn't come into that exchange with any passion at all to seek further talks.  My first conversation with your lot, by way of fly, came in 2004.

It unfortunately took a downturn life event for Charlie and me alike, at about the about the same time, for us to come to agreement that we needed a great challenge, a great diversion, something that would bring us passion.  My friends... you were that great challenge... that great diversion... the creature that would grow a passion so immense that it would come to dominant our thoughts. 

To mark this great event in Charlie's and my life, I came to you yesterday in hopes of having conversation with one of your kind.  If I was successful, I would tell the story I just shared with the lot of you.  You, my friends, saved Charlie and me.  You rejuvenated, inspired, led us to the great challenge we so badly needed.  You... possibly saved us from declining further in the muck that living life can sometimes bring. 

Thank you.

I would share my story with one of your kind.  He was such a tender babe... a sweetest child and a unique member of the grand order of the Mirror.

 

After sharing my story with the sweet babe, I returned him to unite once again with family.  Then, I hoped to find more conversation with your lot. 

 

The weather changed on me as the temperature started to drop so I put on an extra layer of clothing.  My hopes were to find additional members of your community to carry on talks, but other species, that share your home, had other ideas.

 

 

 

The Drum that share your home were quite interested in my offerings as I come to meet a couple of these feisty fellows.  The perch, those pick-pockets of the prairie ocean, were also quite interested and we also had some good chin-chins.

 

The most pleasant surprise of the afternoon, and a milestone in this fly fishers life, was the connection and conversation with yet another sweet and tender child.

 

 

 

On this day, March 28th, a day I come to celebrate the passion I have for you... I established another milestone in my fly fishing life by holding a chat with my first Redhorse Sucker by way of fly. 

 

Such a sweet and gentle babe he was. 

 

A grand day my friends... a grand day! 

 

They say the rain is on the way.  Let it pour sweet beasts, let it pour.  We can catch up later.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher

 



 

 



Dear Carp - March 4th, 2013

Dear Carp,

Today was a cookie cutter of yesterday, but only nicer since there was much less wind.  I deemed it a perfect afternoon to come a-calling. 

Charlie must have thought the same thing because he has sent me a postcard to share with you.  It's a postcard of one of your brothers that lives in a pasture downstream. 

Charlie sent out an offering in the form and fashion of one said San Juan Worm to this brother and the brother... liked the worm.

 

I chose a neutral color offering today but you couldn't seem to find this color as you come to it several times.  I believe the fly was becoming camouflaged in the thick mat of algae that has taken root at your home.

 

So, I moved downstream a little and tied on an offering with a yellow wing and rust brown body.   There was a herd of your kind about 25 feet out and with a backhanded roll cast I sent my gift to these beeves. 

 

As soon as the fly hit the water, one of your community members nose-dived for the fly.  I lost sight of both fish and fly and then went on yet another gut hook-set based on the time I thought was appropriate.  We had a nice talk, me and this guy did.

 

 

 

This citizen was a rowdy type of fellow, splashing water on the lens of my memory maker.  That's okay however, because water dries doesn't it? 

 

I learn from you each time I come my friends.  On my last several visits I took note of how you notice me shaking line out of the end of the rod when I hold it waist high or higher.  I took note how this scares you so now I shake line out the end of my rod with the rod tip down.  Then, I lift the rod tip ever slow slowly. 

 

Thank you for the lessons you have taught me and will continue to teach. 

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher



Conversations With Carp - A December To Remember

An Arctic front was scheduled to hit this part of the prairie ocean at nine o'clock this morning.  This frigid train was being pushed by thirty-five mile per hour winds and promised to make it's presence known. 

At 8:30 I decided to take my dog Drift for a walk along Rock Creek.  We could feel the edge of the front already announcing itself.  As Drift made notes of every tree along the creek, I looked down and to my amazement saw two carp actively feeding. 

I let Drift finish his walk and then we hurried home where I slapped on the waders and grabbed the rod and one Creek Critter - nothing else would be required because this was going to be a short trip.  I arrived at the pasture known as the upper shallows of Honey Hole about five minutes before nine.  The temperature had already dropped another five or ten degrees in just thirty minutes. 

The water was crystal clear at this carp pasture and as I let my eyes adjust I saw a really nice carp - one of the nicest I've seen this year.  I rolled the Creek Critter out to the fish, but my first cast was off mark going downstream and beyond the fish.  The second try was an on-the-money shot landing about four inches in front of this large carp.  The carp slowly inched to the fly and sucked.

I planted the hook hard, but there was no reaction from the carp - no panic, no run, no turn, nothing.  This carp acted like it didn't know it was hooked.  Then I put pressure on the fish and instead of blowing up the carp started a methodical, and extremely heavy tug headed downstream. 

The best way I can describe this fish is that it felt like someone had tied a 15 lb. bag of potatoes on the end of my leader.  It took me a long time to land the creature, but to my delight this fish turned out to be the largest carp I've caught this season.  It seems rather ironic that my largest carp of 2012 would come in the month of December as an Arctic front was arriving. The fish came to hand at 9:03 a.m.

 

 

After releasing this dandy fish, I headed back to the prairie schooner thinking I would go back to the bunkhouse.  However, I decided to check one more pasture - the one known as Lower Well Springs. 

 

At Lower Well Springs there was a solitude carp feeding in shallow water.  The Creek Critter found his upper lip also.  The second, and also last, carp of 2012 came to hand.

 

 

As I was spooling and lining up my rod, I notice a funny looking black mark on my fly line.  Guess the carp of 2012 have put some burn on the ol' fly line. 

 

Lovin' it.

 





 

Conversations With Carp - Charlie Engages Via Creek Critter

These days if Charlie or me want to go on the hunt for carp we'd better get an early start.  On Wednesday morning when I stepped out of the bunkhouse at 4:30, it was already 84 degrees.  Charlie, being an early riser himself, evidently found out the same as he planned a dawn fly fishing outing. 

It seems that Charlie finally give up on that camera with the broken lens and has acquired a new one.  Now, he can send us images of the fruit he plucks from the local creek.

Traveling to the carp pasture that bears his name, Charlie quickly sticks a carp using the Creek Critter pattern. 

In his Wednesday morning dispatch, Charlie reported that when this carp grows up he's going to be the dickens to deal with.  Evidently this 20 incher gave quite the fight. 

Also in his dispatch of Wednesday, Charlie made comment on how poorly the creek is looking at this particular pasture and included an image to lay testament.

As I am writing this, the thunder clouds are building in the south and west.  Hopefully these clouds are serving as signal ships of impending rain. 

Hopefully. 

Conversations With Carp - Talks Postponed

Same scenario as last Saturday - at work way before the rooster even thinks about crowing, leaving work and arriving at the creek at the time the rooster is crowing.  Fish long enough to catch one carp, give thanks for the opportunity of the morning, and return to work. 

I say again... one helluva life.

It's all okay though because I came to a decision before ever hitting the creek this morning.  I wanted to catch one more carp and then I will postpone my conversations with these creatures giving them a rest. 

It was quite rewarding that this last fish would be a young and fascinating looking Mirror carp. 

My decision to postpone fly fishing for carp is because of conditions.  The stream flow of this creek is barely at minimal stream flow standards.  The algae and scum is building up by the day and I'm sure the oxygen in the water is being depleted.  All this could prove quite stressful on these beasts.

Rock Creek serves as a pantry of pleasure - a pantry that feeds the hunger of being with the carp.  Charlie and I both own this hunger.  This creek is mother nature's milk of the locale proper.  Will I now starve to death without the carp?  No, at least not physically.  My hunger will continue to grow and gnaw and my high hope is that the hunger will not grow to the point where I own an emaciated soul. 

If the rain will come and find the ground in good quantities, I'll get right back to the conversation.  But, if it doesn't I will let these creatures be for a while.  There is high hope of rain in the coming week. 

If only the rain would come.   



Conversations With Carp - A Rush To Talks

That one day off from the mercantile store didn't last long.  It seems the young man that was helping fell prey to the delights of summer vacation.  Most likely his friends bombarded him with grand tales of summer night fun and it simply became more than he could bear.  He went to lunch on Monday only to never return.  His decision has put me back to seven days a week. 

I'm an old dog.  Old dogs have to create ways or avenues that make it easier to obtain our goals - goals that once came easy when we were younger dogs.  Also, old dogs don't sleep as well as they once did and tend to rise early. 

This morning I arrived at the mercantile store at 5:30 and in a forty-five minute flurry got things presentable, or "acceptable" as the big boss likes to say.  At 6:15 I announced to the rest of the cast and crew of the mercantile store that I was headed for the creek and would return in one hour or little more.  Also, I told them it was my hope to return in the air of victory. As it ended up, only half that time would be needed to have a say-so with the carp.  Within thirty minutes two carp would be brought to hand for branding.

Armed with the red tail, black body Curiosity pattern the first carp was taken by sight.  This fish was a respectable fish and put up a rather worthy fight.

The second carp of the morning came on a blind roll cast.  No more than three or four seconds passed from the time the fly entered the plunge until this fish inhaled the fly and ran.  These kind of takes don't happen much on this creek and when they do they serve as a most pleasant surprise and experience.  This fish was a good bit larger than the first, but you can't tell from the picture.  Full of fight the fish took me past the backing and line knot for a length of fifteen or twenty feet.  Finally, I would recover some line and the tug-of-war would begin.

Oh how easy it would have been to stay longer this morning - my soul did not want to leave the creek.  However, never have I been one to totally shirk responsibility.  There on the creek bank I said a small prayer thanking my creator for the opportunity of this morning and then went to my prairie home where I washed off the carp, slipped on the khaki trousers, white shirt, and return to the mercantile store by 7:30. 

Hell'ava life huh?

Now, what about Charlie?  Charlie has had one complicated time in getting quality carp-by-fly time on our beloved little creek.  One thing is that he's still nursing that bum foot, and this has limited his once spry (for men our age) movement.  Then, there's the inn he owns and operates.  It seems to me that business at his inn has been much more this year compared to last and this dominates a lot of Charlie's time.  Now, there has been a new chapter opened addressing what is slowing Charlie's carp time down.

Last Saturday after spending about three hours on the creek I return to my prairie home and pick seven ticks off my person.  As soon as I discoved the ticks had attacked me I sent Charlie a message telling him ticks were thick as molasses - a fact Charlie already knew.  The intent of my message was to remind him that he and I owe to ourselves due dillegence when it comes to ticks. 

I think it was sometime Thursday that Charlie ended up at the emergency room with high fever and severe body aches.  The attending doctor informed Charlie he had tick fever.  Fortunately it can be treated with antibiotics and it's stay will be temporary. 

Ticks are nasty little critters that carry disease and can make us quite ill.  Lyme disease is something that nobody wants to deal with. 

So Charlie is off the water and out of the woods until he gets clear of this round of tick fever.  I think it's time we start thinking about some kind of tick defense strategy in our carp-by-fly life. I say this because I know Charlie... and I know of little that will keep him from his cherished carp.

Conversations With Carp - Code Talk

There was only about thirty minutes of light left last evening, but I decided to go to the creek anyhow.  For the first fifteen minutes I didn't see a single carp.  Working my way downstream it wasn't long until I discovered a treasure box of nice size carp.

I want you to imagine a stretch of water like an oblong box.  This box is about fifteen feet wide (upstream to downstream) and twenty-five feet across (from bank to bank).  In this box I describe, there are about fifteen carp - quality carp for this creek.  Two of the carp are fairly close to me so I target one and send out the fly.  As the fly falls in the column the fish sees it and spooks. 

In less than fifteen seconds every single carp in that treasure box - that oblong box of about 300 square feet have begun to make exodus.  Even the carp that are upstream and twenty to twenty-five feet away are in fast lane mode in less than fifteen seconds.

That's not pheromones.  Pheromones simply do not act that quickly, particularly on upstream fish.  The carp have some other amazing way of communicating with one another.  What it is I do not know.  Could it be something in the Weberian apparatus.  Possibly.  Could it be a signal sent out from a lateral line?  Again, possibly. 

These fish have some way of signaling one another in a language we don't or can't understand.  I look at it as code talk.  Of course, I'm always disappointed when I spook a fish, but on the same hand I'm always amazed at how they talk to one another and send out messages.

I leave the creek as the light falls.

This morning I get to the creek fairly early with Charlie's Biter Critter tied on.  One footnote please -I've been referring the Charlie's version of the Biter Critter as Charlie's Biter Critter.  However, he tells me he prefers to call it the Creek Critter.  Therefore I make a post saying that I stand corrected, as the fly formerly known as Charlie's Biter Critter is now known as the Creek Critter.  I don't care what the name of this fly is because it catches carp like crazy.

In less than five minutes, after arriving this morning, I have the first carp of the day to hand.  Fishing the upper shallows of the pasture known as Honey Hole, the carp sucked the Creek Critter on the first cast.

From the upper shallows I travel to the lower shallows of Honey Hole.  Here I find two carp gingerly feeding in the shallow and narrow run.  The Creek Critter goes out once again and an absolutely beautiful mirror carp comes to hand.

I wanted to get a decent picture of this amazing looking fish instead of one of the pictures I usually take with the fish in the grass, or on the bank, or at the edge of the creek.  Trying to hold the mirror in one hand and snap the picture with the other the mirror flops and goes back into the drink.  No picture.  (Mental note:  Dummy, get yourself a high quality, fish-friendly net.) 

Leaving Honey Hole I travel to Charlie's Pasture.  Here I see a carp about twenty-five feet out coming toward me head-on.  The Creek Critter goes out head-on also as the carp continues to come to the fly and purses those lips.  Rod tip up, hook-set good, and the talks are on.  With this fish I have to slide down the bank and try to walk him upstream to get him to hand.  He was a dandy scraper and the battle took a good while. 

After the third carp of the morning it's time to take a coffee and hot chocolate break.  Walking off the creek it was hard to keep from noticing how life was flourishing. I saw jay's and cardinals, squirrel and deer, grasshopper were abundant as the dragonflies and other winged and legged creatures were.

After a short break I return to the Honey Hole pasture.  At the creek's edge I decide to give the Creek Critter a rest.  Placed into employment is the black body with red stinger tail Curiosity pattern.  This fly sails on a blind thirty foot roll cast and it isn't long until I feel the pressure of the fish on the fly.  At first I was convinced this fish was a catfish, but then I got a glimpse of the orange tail. 

This fourth carp was a heavy carp and the fight was memorable.  He never made long runs, but simply bore down on the line and leader. 



By now it's almost ten o'clock and the high humidity is seeping into the body so I have to call it a day.  A good day though. 

And of course, and sadly I should say, there was trash to pick up this morning.  Here's some of the artifacts of modern man reclaimed this morning.









Conversations With Carp - Talks After Supper

Since last Saturday there has been little time to get to the creek in hopes of holding conversation with the carp.  Miss Carol flew to Virginia on Monday to see one of the boys and visit with two beautiful granddaughters.  Her departure put me in charge of extra bunkhouse duties and therefore little time on the water has been the result.

Yesterday, however, there was about an hour of daylight left after finishing supper so I decided to slip down to the creek.  The wind yesterday, and for the last several days, has been stiff to say the least.  There has been a constant riffle on the surface, and although this can make seeing the carp difficult it also can serve as a blessing because they have more difficulty in seeing us. 

Armed with the chartreuse Biter Critter a lone favorable carp is spotted and the fly goes sailing toward the creature.  He eats it without hesitation. 

This one carp would be the extent of my carp catching because I was losing light by the minute.  This fish seemed to be enough to satisfy though because he was one heck of a scraper. 

The carp of this creek should be on notice.  With the help of a fabulous Father's Day gift my carp-by-fly life has been enhanced I believe.

Over the last several years, each time I go to a fly shop I always look at the fly tier's magnifying glass offerings.  But, there is always something else that draws my attention more.  Even though I have been in dire need of visual aid in my tying life, that new pair of waders or boots, rod or reel has always won out.  While the rods, reels, waders, boots, and other fly fishing gear has come off the shelf, the magnifying glass has stayed on.

Those days are over now, because for Father's Day I received a Carson MagniFly.  Now, I can churn out carp flies like Hershey's turns out chocolate bars.

Watch our carp, new flies coming your way soon. 

Conversations With Carp - Sweating The Talks

Even though I got to the creek rather early this morning, by 7:30 it looked like I had fallen in the creek.  The humidity is so high here I was drenched in sweat. 

Starting out at the pasture we call the Honey Hole it was easy to tell the fishing would not be good here.  A brisk southern wind of the past several days has blown the debris into this stretch and it's completely scummed over.  So, off to the pasture we call the Courtyard.

At Courtyard the water was crystal.  Spotting several young carp upstream a stealthy approach is made their way.  The olive grizzled tan stinger tail is on the line and flipped out to one of the young ones.  The babe eats it right away.  Amazing how strong this young fish was.  I ended up having to jump off the high bank in order to find a place to land the fish.

The calamity I made in the water put the other carp down so it was time to move on.

From the Courtyard I travel to the creek that runs though federal park land.  Arriving at the pasture we call Charlie's Pasture I find big carp.  But, all the big boys and everyone else are suspended on the far side of the creek about thirty feet away.  I keep looking for a favorable carp - one on the graze, a tailing carp, but nary a one can be seen.

Tying on a F fly Charlie give me I cast it to a carp that looks like he is sucking mid-column.  The fish goes for the fly, but in my excitement I pull the fly away from the beeve.  Minutes later another fish goes for the F fly mid-column and again I screw up.  It's time to move on to another pasture.

With each outing I've been picking up trash I find, but have failed to document any of it for future reference.  Today it was a beer can some joker threw in the creek.  I'm in search of a grappling hook I can tie a rope on because so far I have found six tires in the creek and I want those nasty things gone.  A tire can stay intact for hundreds of years and have no place in a creek.

Leaving Charlie's pasture I head to the pastures known as the Beach and Bend.  While sitting on the back of the prairie schooner tying on a chartreuse Biter Critter, Charlie comes by.  He's taking a morning stroll on that monster motorcycle he drives.  Of course we have to talk fly fishing, water, tying more patterns and tourists.  Weekends are almost impossible for Charlie to fish because of the inn he owns and operates.  Charlie wishes me luck and off I am to the creek. 

With the Biter Critter two more carp would come to hand within twenty minutes.  The wind had picked up significantly and it was time to call it a day. 

Now, looking at this picture there will be some of you that accuse me of getting this fish drunk so I could catch it.  But, I assure you that empty liquor bottle is not mine.  I'm a clown at times, but not the kind of clown that throws crap in the creek.

As hot and good a pattern the Biter Critter is, this fly seems to have one fault - at least the ones I try to tie.  They are not durable at all.  After only two carp with this fly this morning the fly was showing a lot of wear and missing one leg. 

Wrapping the morning up I notice how dirty I am and truly carp-by-fly can be a messy affair at times.  I should give credit to my wife Miss Carol for putting up with my carp-by-fly life.  She rarely complains of the mess I carry home to our bunkhouse. 

Thank you Miss Carol.