"The river flowed smooth and dark beneath the fringing alders. Here and there on the surface little rings broke the reflections and occasionally a splash showed white against the bank. A boy was lying prone, peering over the grass into the clear water. His breath came quickly as he saw a big tail appear in the center of a ring, waving slowly from side to side before it quietly sank again. There was life in the air as well; tiny gauze-winged forms were rising and dipping over the water, sometimes lightly touching its smooth surface. The boy looked upward to watch them. He raised himself and grasped an alder branch for support. He felt a delicate touch on his hand and, turning saw the insect resting there, its wings slowlyopening and closing. It was an exquisite creature. The wings were nearly transparent, of iridescent pearly color. The up-curved body was shaded darker on the back, tapering to the slender whisks of a tail long and curved.The eyes protruded prominently and were colored a wonderful violet. It held out its long front legs in an almost supplicating attitude,and all its legs were marked with color, speckled and delicately shaded. What an incredibly beautiful thing, he thought. No wonder trout rose to it so avidly. He looked up at the branch again. There were several of those lovely flies resting there, and one seemed different from the others.The boy stood up and looked more closely. He saw an insect, darker and duller in color, its back split down the middle, and from its body was emerging another, the delicate, bright one he had already seen. With a sudden movement, it pulled itself clear. The wings were not erect but seemed to be folded close to the back. As he watched, he saw them begin to open. The metamorphosis took place quickly before his eyes,and in a few moments there was another fly, complete, shining, drying itself in the sun. He looked away and when his eyes returned again it was gone. The splashes in the stream continued. It is no wonder that, with the impact of that introduction, I became a fly fisherman. Surely, I thought, an art based on imitations of such lovely fragile creatures must offer a great deal, especially if the angler could create them after his own fashion."
John Atherton, The Fly and The Fish, 1971
-- Jimmy D. Moore, "BIGTROUTMAN" I FISH BECAUSE I MUST! More importantly, I fish because my Dad taught me! Author,Outdoor Writer,TOWA, TF&G,VP-GRTU Owner/Webmaster - Worldwide Flyfishing Info. http://www.BIGTROUTMAN.homestead.com/MainPage.html
