Between rain storms a week ago, a buddy and I visited a local pond to enjoy some fresh air and cast a few flies. According to the calendar it was the first week of summer, but weather and water conditions didn’t support that theory. With one of the wettest and windiest Junes I ever remember taking place, fly fishing on local small lakes, ponds, and streams had been dismal.
If local anglers weren’t avoiding tornado or thunderstorm warnings, they spent time impatiently waiting for a favorite waterway to recede and stop looking like a mud puddle. Since the Aroostook River, Prestile Stream and Meduxnekeag still remained high and alder-colored, we chose a Presque Isle area pond to float our canoe and a few flies.
Proving that most local sportsmen had more common sense, or perhaps less “cabin fever,” not another watercraft was on hand. Even the small lake was a bit cloudy from rain and run-off, but not bad enough to deter fish from taking a fly. I tied on a black leech pattern while my fishing buddy offered up an olive Matuka.
Action remained slow for the first hour with only three 8- to 10- inch trout caught and released. We only saw about half a dozen fish roll and show on the surface during that period. Changing fly patterns, dragging colorful streamers and even offering up small lures and bait fish style plugs did nothing to perk up interest.
Once the sun dropped below the treeline, however, and got off the water, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Trout began to show with regularity, dimpling the surface, rolling and showing their sides, occasionally leaping clear of the pond in a graceful arc. Oddly, attention to our trolled fly patterns did not increase, and we offered up a wide, ever changing variety of shapes, sizes and styles.
After half an hour of frustration, I stopped the motor so we could just sit, watch and consider options. Perusing the water surface it became apparent there was no hatch in progress since no insects floated or flailed about. It was also evident that the brookies were steadily feeding on some food sources in the pond near the surface.
Then it struck me — emergers! I felt so foolish to have missed the obvious answer; some sort of aquatic creature was emerging from its larval stage in the rock and mud bottom structure. As the bugs broke free of their casings and rose toward the water surface the fish were feasting. Now the big question became what nymph or emerger fly pattern might imitate the real thing and did either of us have one in our fly box.
Before even opening my tackle box to search fly options, my first step was to change reels. Instead of a floating line I opted for a sinking tip to present any fly a foot or two under the water as if it were really rising from the bottom. A bead head hare’s ear nymph didn’t work, nor did a peacock simulator. My boat buddy offered a crane fly larva and a backswimmer nymph to no avail.
An olive caddis emerger drew some interest and one trout in the 12-inch size was boated and released. A size 12 Tellico nymph and a size 8 Zug bug, both on 1X long shank hooks, turned out to be the key to success. Over the next 45 minutes, we hooked over 20 trout, catching and releasing 14 of them. Cast, count slowly to six, then begin a slow, steady overhand retrieve with just the slightest rod tip bounce. Wait for the next raise that’s close to the canoe and cast to it. The fish stopped feeding as quickly as they started, so the emerger sequence was over.
Sometimes rain can ruin the fishing, other times it just changes the circumstances. If your fly box doesn’t have at least a half dozen styles of emerger nymphs, head to the local fishing shop and purchase a few. When trout seem to be showing, but not feeding on normal patterns, emerger flies often work.
Visit Echo or Hanson Lakes in Presque Isle, Monson in Fort Fairfield, Trafton or Durepo Lakes in Limestone, Cary or Conroy near Littleton or any other neighborhood pond. Current water conditions favor emerger hatches over the next week or so. Figuring out how to entice fish into feeding is just as enjoyable and satisfying as catching them.
