Welcome to Just Old Flies

Welcome to 'just old flies,' a section of methods and flies that used-to-be. These flies were tied with the only materials available. Long before the advent of 'modern' tying materials, they were created and improved upon at a far slower pace than todays modern counterparts; limited by materials available and the tiers imagination.

Once long gone, there existed a 'fraternity' of anglers who felt an obligation to use only the 'standard' patterns of the day. We hope to bring a bit of nostalgia to these pages and to you. And sometimes what you find here will not always be about fishing. Perhaps you will enjoy them. Perhaps you will fish the flies. Perhaps . .

Part Seventy-eight

Sunday Manners

By Old Rupe

When we are on the stream I continue to see a complete disregard for the rights of others. Dave and I witnessed one evening people wading through the river above us kicking sand downstream. If any trout would have felt like rising that would surly have put them down. I didn't bring my Glock with me so all survived. Dave just winced and ducked his head. It was a good thing they were above Dave, not me as I would have probably reverted to my hillbilly ways and discussed their probable parentage.

There is an obvious fault in the system. We should either educate these dummy's or each of us should carry a Glock.

I have been so irritated by their uncaring ways I have thrown my fly rod at them and had to wait for full daylight to find it in the stream. Once I had to leave the stream because I had reached in the two-foot-deep water to grab a rock to throw. I had to retreat to the truck to change. I managed to get three or four good throws off though. I guess I don't fit the traditional turn the other cheek fly fishing image. My next wading staff will be a solid ash one, big enough around to pound lumps and knots on a rhino. I will probably find a use for it at least four or five times a year. As I get older its harder to get by without one. I may use the license plate I found on the street to avoid the legal hassles. My lawyer suggested I might make a bad defendant. My kid won't let me use his high-dollar aluminum baseball bat to fish with. I thought it would make a great wading staff.

Various fly fishing schools turn out people who have no idea what accepted stream behavior is. Local clubs turn out members on the stream who can't even cast and have no idea what a trout looks like. I have had them bring a chub to me and ask if it was a trout. I'm a strong person and after two tours in Nam I don't generally cry in public, though my mother makes lace handkerchiefs I have taken to pinning on my shirt. She says its getting harder to find green lace, and the tears are hard to wash out.

I have tried to talk my mother into coming out of retirement. I can remember lessons on Sunday manners when the preacher would visit. We all had to behave like we were educated whether we were or not. Everything had to be passed the same way and nothing was sampled before it was passed. If we were not polite we would hear of it later. The correct utensil had to be used at the appropriate time. There was an established way to behave.

Mom, if I buy you a new ruler will you consider an educational tour? The classes will only be taught on Sunday and if the preacher cringes, the students are done. No manners . . . no trout. He or she who can't behave will not be allowed on the stream. Mom, you are only 96 years old, how can you ignore the problem.

I think I'll call the preacher. Maybe he can talk her into helping become a part of the solution.

Maybe the solution is just a bigger ruler. Son, would you loan that high-dollar aluminum bat to grandma? Old Rupe

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