The Fly Fisher Book of Lists: Life is short, catch more fish is a book for newbies, the young-to-the-sport fly fisher who wants hacks and shortcuts to catch more fish.
The first thought of a fly fisher as the river water pours over the top of the waders is losing his or her fly rod.
No, no, no!
The first bodily response to the 55-degree water is hyperventilation, muscle spasms, an adrenaline burst. The next thought, Oh god! And then, again: Rod!
It’s late summer. Steve (my podcast partner) and I inch single file and thigh deep against the heavy current, fly rod in one hand and the other on the scrub brush and rocky ledge on the river’s edge. We have no business wading the ruthless currents of the Yellowstone. No matter how low it seems this time of year. Up ahead fifty yards is a stretch we’ve never fished before. We’re almost there. We make it and start to cast. It’s hopper season, and the cutthroat are naive.
Within a half hour, Steve has moved about 50 yards above me, hidden behind a rock outcropping the size of a small car. I am in the middle of a side channel, casting downstream. I shift my weight too quickly, stumble, and start to flail downstream.
It’s said that drowning is a silent affair. I thrash in solitude and in silence and tumble for what seems to be a hundred yards. It’s probably only ten. I roll over onto some gravel in shallow water and spy my fly rod another five yards downstream, caught on some dead fall. I make it to my knees and lurch forward to grab the rod. It’s still whole.
I gather myself on the sandy bank. I still can’t see Steve.
Re-rigged and Chastened
An immersion in the Yellowstone even on a warm afternoon in late summer is like a surprise bucket of Gatorade after a playoff win. I peel off my waders to empty the water out of my boots and then twist and pull the entire sopping apparatus back on. Chilled and chastened, my adrenaline ebbing, I re-rig my rod and head back into the river. I mention my baptism later when I catch up to Steve, but oddly, not until years later do we discuss the danger of the moment.
On that day, had I drowned, Steve may have not known I was missing for another hour or more. I’m sure my body would never have been found, given how far into the back country we had hiked.
It’s also said that fly fishing is no extreme sport, and I am a physical testimony to that. I couldn’t do anything extreme. For a lifetime, though, I have tromped around in what’s called the great outdoors. That day on the Yellowstone, I had a bit of God’s luck, as some of my father’s cronies call it. Others have not been as lucky.
Last fall in Montana, a fly fisher succumbed to an assaulting current on the Boulder River, which is not much wider than a city street in some places. His fiancée was nearby, and I wonder if she had her back turned to the river or whether she saw him fall, watching as he made his last cast right before the river knocked him downstream. They say he likely struck his head on a submerged boulder, as he struggled to gain his footing.
His body was never found. The locals say it is probably at the bottom of one of the deeper pools on a stretch where the river cascades about a hundred yards downstream.
Almost two months later, Steve and I stopped by Fourmile Campground where the fly fisher had slipped. We had fished all day about a mile below the area. At the exact spot where he ostensibly fell in, the river didn’t seem that all that intimidating, though the current was likely much faster two months earlier. I’m not sure what compelled us to stop.
Maybe as moment of silence for someone who had succumbed to the wild places.
Gift and Risk of Fly Fishing
Drowning while fly fishing is always possibility.
Even with all the disciplines that fly fishers put into place (no wading above the knees or fishing only with a partner or always using a wading staff), the moment we step outside our trucks and into the river, we add to our day a new element of risk. I accept, and maybe even enjoy, the risk that comes with life in the outdoors.
As spring arrives, however, and I anticipate more days on the river, I am reminded once again that fly fishing is both a gift and a risk. Life is truly fragile.
The past four years of podcasting and writing articles (weekly for both!) have been a terrific fly fishing adventure in its own right. We announced in our last podcast that we’ve come to the end of our run. We are feeling a bit sad. But the time is right, and we’re excited about what’s next.
That includes more fly fishing. You can listen to our last podcast to hear the reasons behind our decision. So in honor of four wonderful years, we thought we’d pontificate even more to make your next fly fishing trip a most excellent fly fishing adventure:
1. Now is urgent. [Dave]
You’re not getting any younger. Even if you’re only 25.
It’s tempting is to kick the can down the road. Don’t. Pick up your fly rod now. And go fish. Pick a date on the calendar. Put it all on a credit card. And save your regrets for later, when you’re paying it all off one month at a time for two years.
2. Pack carefully. [Steve]
I am still shaking my head about the time I grabbed the wrong rod tube on the way to catch a flight to Colorado.
I meant to take my 4-weight rod. I spent the week in small mountain streams casting a 4-weight line with an 8-weight rod! Actually, it handled better than I anticipated. But it’s best not to forget your rod, reel, flies, waders, and boots — or to grab the wrong fly rod.
3. Find a Fishing Partner Who Is a Planner. [Dave]
Steve is so organized that he pulls his socks from the bottom of his carefully stacked clean pairs in his tidy drawer. He wants to wear each pair of socks out equally.
I like that in a fishing partner.
Steve would happily plan what I have for dinner after a great day on the water, if I let him. God bless planners. They design great fly fishing adventures.
4. Don’t bring your family along on a fly fishing trip. [Steve]
You’ll be disappointed. So will your family.
In fact, they might leave you. At least they will be mad at you. If you insist on trying to fly fish, agree on a set amount of time you’ll be gone. If it’s 3 hours, you’d better get back on time. We’ve learned this the hard way.
So do as we say, not as we’ve done.
5. Go easy on the guide’s new Orvis rod. [Dave]
Guides for the most part are warm, kind, and generous.
They bring a 3,000-calorie lunch for you even though you won’t burn even 179 calories casting from the drift boat. They might roll their eyes as you snap off another fly, but they do it behind your back. They might silently mock you when you can’t cast farther than 20 feet, but they wait to laugh uncontrollably until later that evening with their fellow guides at the local bar.
But the generosity ends when the guide warns you not to let the big rainbow dart under the drift boat, yet you still do. And the $1,000 fly rod that the guide most generously lent you snaps in half. It’s all fun and games until you break the fly rod.
This is no fly fishing adventure for the guide, trust me.
6. Now mend your line. [Steve]
Those words from my mentor, Bob Granger, still ring in my ears every time I cast a fly on the water.
Trout will ignore your fly if they spot the slightest bit of drag. So mend your line. Add small mends (stack mends) as you go. Consider a “C” loop while your fly line is in the air. Do whatever you can to avoid that dreaded drag on your fly. Water skiers leave wakes; dry flies should not.
7. Use a landing net. [Steve]
You may not need a net to land a trout; but the trout will thank you.
The rubber netting is a lot easier on their bodies than your hands. Besides, a good net will keep you alert. As you’re sneaking through the brush, the net will get caught in a pine branch or a bush. Then, after you walk five more paces, it will snap back and slap you square in the back. At this point, you’ll be a lot more alert as you approach the river.
Plus, you’ll remember that you brought your net. Win, win.
8. Bring ear plugs. [Dave]
Now I’m not saying that I have never snored.
Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t.
But if you’re on a trip and the two beds in the hotel room are only five or six feet apart, then you need to bring a pair or two of ear plugs. Ear plugs are as basic as hopper patterns in mid August. Essential.
You need to be fully rested for the hard day of fishing ahead of you.
9. Stay safe. [Steve]
Yeah, we’ve hammered this point to death.
But that’s because a modicum of prep can keep you from death, or at least from serious injury. Bear spray. Wading staff. Fishing buddy. Caution. Quality wading boots. You know the drill.
And if you’re in Yellowstone on your fly fishing adventure, don’t pet the bison. Seriously.
10. Grab your rod tubes from the overhead bin. [Dave]
It’s always a win when the case you make to your spouse for a new fly rod is based on the fact that you really need a fly rod.
You forget to mention to your beautiful wife that you lost your two favorite rods on the last fly fishing trip. It’s hard not to imply that someone “stole the rods,” even if the stealing probably happened after you forgot them in the overhead bin as you made your way off the plane in Chicago.
Go on a Fly Fishing Adventure Now!
Life is short. Catch more fish.
I recently fished a productive-looking run in Rocky Mountain National Park’s Fall River. It was the best run I had seen all morning. My sons and I had hiked into a steep ravine in search of water that rarely got fished. It was a harrowing hike, but I was finally rewarded with a long run that flowed out of a deep bend in the river (well, it was really a small mountain creek at that point).
I tied on a size #14 Elk Hair Caddis. Nothing. So I switched to a size #18 Parachute Adams. Same result. I even tried a black ant pattern. Still no interest by any trout.
My go-to approach when this happens is to tie on a streamer. I found a brown Woolly Bugger in my fly box and drifted it into the deep bend. I waited a couple seconds before I started the retrieve. During the first strip of line, I felt that old-familiar tug, and I ended up landing a fat, colorful Brookie.
One of the challenges I’ve noticed with streamer fishing is getting deep enough. Streamers may be the most effective way to catch trout hunkered down in deep pools and runs. But you have to get your streamers deep enough to where the trout lie. So how do you do it? I suggest three techniques. You may even need a combination of them.
The most obvious way to get your streamers deep enough is to weight them.
Surprisingly, though, I’ve watched numerous fly fishers neglect this. If you tie your own flies, consider wrapping weight on the hook before wrapping the body. I’d also encourage adding a beadhead or conehead to the front of the fly. If you don’t tie, look for streamers with beadheads or coneheads.
If your fly is not weighted, then by all means, add weight to it before you toss it into a deep run or pool. I’ve even added weight to an already weighted fly! Some fly fishers like sleek line weights. I’m still fine with adding a removable split shot. I’ll typically use only one in a larger size. You can put it a few inches above your fly. Or, you can put it at the head of the fly, immediately in front of the knot that you’ve tied to the eye of the hook.
I’ve caught enough trout on Woolly Buggers with a silver split shot at the front that I don’t worry about a fish laughing at it and retreating to shelter.
If you’re fly fishing a larger river or a lake, then a sink tip line is a great way to go.
Wait to Get Your Streamers Deep Enough
Even if you have sufficiently weighted your fly, you need to give it time to sink.
I wonder how many times I’ve missed trout because I didn’t give my Woolly Bugger time to sink to the bottom of a pool before I retrieved it. Occasionally, you might get a strike as your streamer is sinking. But in my experience, it’s in the first couple retrieves that fish attacks the fly as it heads to the surface.
If you’re using a sink tip line in a lake, you’ll need to wait a few seconds (depending on the weight of the line) to get it to a sufficient depth before you start your retrieve.
This is actually a variation of the previous point. In moving water, the best way to get a fly to the bottom is to cast is well above the spot you expect to hook a trout. If you’re fishing downstream (one of my favorite approaches with streamers), drop it into the current and start feeding line. Give the streamer 10 or 20 feet to sink before it reaches the hot zone, then start your retrieve.
Use the same approach if you’re fishing a run from the side—that is, the river’s edge.
Cast your streamer far enough upstream so that it has time to sink as it floats. Once it reaches the hot spot (below you), start your retrieve. The streamer will swing, and this is when you’ll often get strikes. I experienced this a few years ago in Alaska. I was a few hundred yards up Clear Creek from the spot where it ran into the Talkeetnah River. I found a nice deep run, tied on a Dalai Lama, and started to fish. It took me a few tries to cast the streamer far enough upstream to let it get deep enough by the time it entered the prime section of the run. But once I hit the right depth, I had strikes on every cast.
Streamers are ideal for deep pools on days when trout are not feeding on the surface. But getting your streamers deep enough where the trout lurk is the discipline.
Fly fishing is like farming. So many things can go wrong. I spent last week fly fishing some beautiful mountain creeks in Colorado. I had a great time with my two sons, a brother, and a nephew. But the fishing was lousy. The creeks we fished flowed clear, but the water was unseasonably high. It was late July, but the water levels resembled what is typical in late June. In fact, we scrapped plans to fish an outstanding stretch of a river that fishes best at 600 cfs (cubic feet per second) when we learned it was flowing at 1700 cfs. Fly fishing high water is no fun.
We made the most of a tough situation. Notice that I’m not calling it a “bad situation” because the higher water reflects above average snow pack in the high country and an abundance of rain. This is good.
By the end of the week, we caught a few fish, enjoyed some fantastic scenery, and laughed a lot (especially when a group of people on horseback rode past us on a trail above our stream and the lead wrangler pointed us out and said, “Look! There are some fly fishers in their natural habitat.” Yup, that’s us!).
When the water is high, here are a few important practices to make the most of your experience:
Exercise extra caution when fishing high water
Fly fishers should always be cautious in and around moving water. High water, though, calls for extra caution. The problem is not wading in deeper water. The problem is wading in faster water that delivers a lot more force. Make sure you have a wading staff, and don’t take unnecessary risks. Save yourself for a more productive day when the water levels subside. When in doubt, stay out!
By the way, if the water looks like chocolate milk, stay out! Never wade if you can’t see the bottom.
Add more weight
If you’re nymphing or slinging streamers, you’ll need more weight than usual to get those flies to the bottom where the current is slower and the fish are feeding. Some runs will simply be too fast to fish successfully. But if you think you have a chance, put on an extra split shot (or whatever kind of weight you like to attach). This weigh will slow down your fly as well as help it sink.
Choose visible flies when fishing high water
If the water is off-color, you’ll want to choose more visible flies. This means larger nymphs or streamers with some flash to them. Off-color water is a great time to put on a San Juan worm since the conditions often dislodge worms and send them floating down the current.
Look for slower water
This is about the best advice I can offer.
Last week, I caught trout on dry flies, nymphs, and streamers. But every trout I caught was in a slower moving stretch of water. This meant skipping a lot of runs I’d normally fish. I did my best when I found pocket water or pools or eddies where trout were feeding on the surface or just below it.
One day, one of my sons and I fly fished a one-mile stretch of high mountain stream. We only found five fishable runs. We had a lot of action in each one. Yet we did a lot of walking and wading to get to those spots. So skip the fast stuff and find the calm, slower water.
Yes, fly fishing resembles farming. A lot can go wrong. When it comes to high water, go to a lake if you have the time. Or wait a week or two if you can. But if your only chance to fish is during high water, you can still make it enjoyable.
Some of the best fly fishing occurs at dusk. The crowds are gone, the temperature is cooler, and the trout (especially Browns) feed more aggressively. This has been the case in Colorado this week where my wife and I are visiting family. The best fishing this past week has been fly fishing at dusk, the hour before dark.
If you’re planning on fly fishing at dusk, here are a few tips to help you be successful and safe:
1. Keep it simple
It’s more challenging to tie tippet to your leader and flies to your tippet. So make sure your initial rig is in place before you get to the river.
If you have to switch flies, consider going with a single fly rather than taking the time to tie on a dropper. Time is slipping away. So is the light. If you know which patterns work in the area where you’re fly fishing, you could tie some droppers onto lead flies in advance.
2. Use visible flies
Assuming that you’re dry fly fishing, make sure your fly has a white post. A Parachute Adams, for example, is much easier to see than a fly with a red post or no post.
If you use an Elk Hair Caddis, use one with light elk hair. Or, if you tie your own flies, tie some white synthetic fibers to the top of the fly.
3. Wear a head lamp
Some kind of flashlight is a must.
A cell phone flashlight will do. So will a conventional mini-flashlight. But what I like best is a headlamp. You can buy a lightweight one for $20 or less. I always put one in my vest when I’m going to fish at dusk. The “hands free” approach works great. Plus, it makes it a lot easier to tie on a fly when it’s almost dark.
4. Be alert for wildlife
This is true everywhere, but especially in the West. Moose and elk have a way of showing up out of nowhere when you’re fly fishing at dusk. Mountain lions and bears do the same.
5. Watch your step when fly fishing at dusk
A few days ago, I was wading at dusk and slipped on a rock I couldn’t see.
I took a tumble into the small mountain stream and dropped my rod. Before I could grab it, the current whisked it away. I searched for it, but left the stream without my rod and reel (a $500 investment).
The story has a happy ending.
I returned a couple of days later to search for it after the water level had dropped a bit. My son found it at the bottom of the creek in some brush. The tip section was broken, but Orvis will repair or replace it for $60.
When fly fishing at dusk, the shadows and low light can make it harder to see — especially beneath the surface of the water. Take it from me, watch your step when you’re fishing at dusk!
I have no business writing about euro nymphing for beginners, other than I tried the technique. And I liked it. I’m an old school fly fisher – I fish nymphs with a strike indicator and two flies, the last fly tied on the bend of the hook of the first. I might add a split shot above the first fly if I need to get the nymph into the hot zone.
However, at the urging of our one listeners, I decided to give euro-nymphing a try. At the end of this post, I offer up a three resources, including a four-minute overview video that I found on the technique.
I thought you might benefit from five basics that I’ve learned from my short journey.
1. Start out using your existing rod.
With euro nymphing, the recommendation is to purchase a longer rod. And for sure, you need to purchase one if you plan to get serious about the technique. Euro-nymphing rods are longer, between 10 to 11 feet, and you generally purchase the rods in a 2 or 3 weight.
Initially, I thought, “Hey, my 9 foot, 6 weight should work. Why don’t I try euro nymphing first? One or two feet can’t make that much difference, right? If I like it, then I’ll purchase a new rod.”
Now that I own a euro-nymphing rod (10 foot, 3 weight), I realize how lousy my regular rod was for this technique.
However, I caught quite a few fish on my regular rod using the euro technique. One day in Montana, I caught eight browns in about 45 minutes while Steve and a friend sat along the bank and ate lunch.
So you may want to try out euro nymphing with your main rod, just to see if you think you’ll like the different way of nymph fishing. Once you’re all in, though, you definitely need to pick up a euro rod.
Just so you know: I picked up an “Echo” euro nymphing rod for about $250. One of the top rods on the market (at least by way of reviews) is the Sage ESN at around $900. I’m too lousy of a euro-nympher to appreciate the nuance of a $900 rod, so I went with the Echo at the recommendation of a friend.
2. You’ll need a different kind of leader.
With euro-nymphing, not only is the rod different, the tackle is different.
I purchased a Rio, 11-foot leader, but frankly, any brand works. Don’t get side-tracked by which is the better brand. The euro leader is longer than a traditional leader. The 11-foot leader is basically 9 feet of a tapered leader with two feet of “indicator material” or “sighter” – which is different in color than the opaque white, so you can see it in the water.
At the end is a tippet ring. You will tie on additional tippet (and then your flies) on the end of it.
3. You will need a “sighter” at the end of the leader.
A sighter is simply colored material at the end of the leader to which you tie your tippet. You can buy leaders that already have the sighter material attached to it. That’s what I prefer. Other fly fishers purchase the leader and the sighter separately – and then tie the two together.
I buy the full euro leader with the sighter material. Life is too short for one more knot to tie.
4. You need weighted nymphs.
With euro nymphing, you do not add split shot or weight to get the nymph down into the hot zone or near the bottom of the river. The nymphs themselves are weighted. They are called “tungsten weighted nymphs.” The eyelet is to the side and looks like an old fashioned jig.
In fact, they are called “jig nymphs.”
I purchased four standard nymphs to start: the rainbow warrior, the pheasant tail, the gold-ribbed hair’s ear, and the prince nymph.
5. I use double-tapered fly line.
Many euro nymphers use “level line,” because, frankly, you’re only casting out about as far as the leader, maybe a little farther. I’ve found that euro nymphing works best in smaller rivers with well-defined runs that I can get up on. I’m sure the professionals would mock my lack of expertise, but my longest casts tend to be fifteen, maybe twenty feet.
In general, the fly line takes on a lesser role in euro nymphing.
The one tip I took away from a book I read (the one listed below) is to use double-tapered line. That way, I can switch to a dry fly rig without having to carry two rods or having to run back to the truck to grab my regular rod. You can’t sling dry flies with level line.
The videos, books, and articles on euro-nymphing for beginners are legion. Here are just three:
My non-fly fishing friends marvel that fly fishers catch large trout on flies the size of a Tic Tac mint. Catching a 20-inch trout on a size #20 fly (or smaller!) is possible, in part, because of Midges.
Here is a brief profile of these tiny insects that are an important part of a trout’s diet:
• Midges belong to the insect order “Diptera”—a Greek term meaning “two wings”; and
• Fly fishers sometimes refer to Midges as “Chironomids” because they belong to the family of insects known by its scientific name, Chironomidae (Latin).
• Midges live in all kinds of water. Midges in rivers are a lot smaller (the average is size 20, though they can range from size 16 to size 24) than those living in ponds are lakes;
• Midges, like all Diptera, go through complete metamorphosis—larva, pupa, and adult stages; and
• Midges can have up to five generations a year, so trout feed on them constantly in moving water. This means fly fishers can fish them year round. However, the winter is the best time—especially for dry fly patterns—since they are about the only thing hatching.
The Stages of Midges
• In their larval stage, Midges live in the bottom of streams and rivers, feeding on algae or on decaying plant or animal matter. Dave Hughes, an Oregon fly fisher and entomologist, does not think fly fishers should spend much time trying to imitate them since they are challenging to imitate and since trout do not seem to feed on them exclusively (like they do at times for the next two stages);
• The pupal stage may be the most important one for fly fishers. When the larvae reach maturity, they begin pupation and are ready to float to the surface. They do this more by floating than swimming, though they wiggle their abdomens a bit to get started. Once they reach the surface, they are trapped until they break the surface tension. This is a time when trout can go into a feeding frenzy. It may look like they are feeding on Midges on the surface. But the trout are actually feeding on Midges in the surface film or just beneath it. Although pupae emerge throughout the day, they show up in larger numbers in the afternoon—and sometimes into early evening; and
• Midges enter their adult stage once they push through the surface film. In colder months, they float longer, waiting for their wings to harden before they fly away. Mating occurs either on land, in the air, or even in the water. Since they come off the water in great numbers, Midges often form clusters. At times, trout may focus more on these clumps of Midges — a larger meal!—than singles.
• A Zebra Midge, a Brassie or a Krystal Flash Midge can imitate Midges in their larval stage;
• Midge pupa patterns are legion, so you might need to visit a fly shop and ask for help. Some of the more effective patterns, though, for Midge pupae include the Biot Midge Pupa or the Traditional Midge Pupa. The CDC Transitional Midge or CDC Stillborn Midge are great choices, too, since they imitate the Midge in its transition—or failure to transition—between the pupa and adult stage;
• For the Adult stage, my favorite patterns – that work well especially for a cluster of Midges – include the Griffith’s Gnat, the Renegade, and the Parachute Adams. Keep in mind that you may have to go to sizes 22 to 26 if you are trying to imitate a single Midge! That’s why I prefer to imitate the clusters.
Other Entomology 101 Articles & Sources
Many moons ago, I shared a beaver pond with a moose.
I was a teen, fishing near Hoback Junction in Wyoming. A large Brookie darted out from under a rock to take a swipe at my Woolly Worm. Meanwhile, a cow moose watched me from 25 yards away. It was standing in three feet of water on the other side of the small pond.
The moose was dangerously close. But I didn’t panic for three reasons. First, I was so intent on hooking the Brookie (I eventually did) that the potential danger did not register. Second, I knew that the pool created by the beaver dam was at least six feet deep. Third, although I was right about the unlikelihood of a moose trying to charge me through a six-feet deep pool, I underestimated the danger like a typical teenage boys do all the time.
However, I have learned to fear the moose I encounter in the outdoors. I have not had any close calls, although a cow moose came within 30 yards of me when I was bow-hunting elk in a wilderness area in Montana. It stared at me for a couple of minutes before I backed away. A year later, a cow moose—and the bull following her—charged my brother while he was quartering a bull elk he shot on a mountainside in that same wilderness area. The pair veered off when they were ten yards away! My healthy fear of moose comes mainly from the accounts I’ve read and stories I’ve heard.
When a fly fisher encounters a moose, there are ways to avoid the danger. And there are ways simply to avoid the encounter in the first place:
Keep your dog home
No hate mail, please.
“Keep your dog at home” is not a hard and fast rule. But if you’re hunting in moose country, think twice about it. At least keep your dog on a leash. Moose may think your dog is a wolf. There’s nothing pretty about your beautiful lab getting sliced by a knife-sharp moose hoof.
“Duh, Captain Obvious,” you say.
But alertness is critical, especially true in the spring and in the fall. Whether you’re fly fishing in Maine or Montana, stay alert. Cows calve in the spring, so they will be more cranky and protective of their offspring. Bulls are aggressive in September and October during the rut.
The thick streamside vegetation moose inhabit is the right recipe for a close encounter of the wrong kind.
If you see a moose while you’re on the river, stay away. Don’t risk getting close. Admire it from a distance. Conventional wisdom says to stay at least 25 yards away. However, I’d double that. If you see a cow with a calf, then double it again. There’s no reason to risk an encounter.
When a fly fisher encounters a moose (because he or she is so focused on next run to fish), the best strategy is to back away slowly from it.
If a moose charges, then run. That’s right! Run. This is lousy advice for dealing with a charging bear. But running from a moose will not incite it. Nor will it be tempted to take you apart with its teeth like a grizzly could.
Moose are not carnivous.
Of course, you can’t outrun a moose — unless you can run faster than 30 miles per hour. But running still works for at least two reasons.
First, as Rachel Levin points out in her book, Look Big, a moose will not follow you very far.
Second, you can usually out-maneuver a half-ton animal if you’re running in a forest, dodging trees and boulders. Find a place to hide. A moose simply wants you out of its space.
Encounters a Moose
There are a lot of dangers to consider when you fly fish — lightning, swift current, venomous snakes, and grizzly bears. When a fly fisher encounters a moose, he or she should But don’t forget about moose if your favorite river or stream happens to be in their back yard.
Other articles we’ve done on safety and the outdoors include:
Sometimes our listeners tell us fly fishing stories that keep us awake at night.
Perhaps that is an exaggeration. Yet their stories make us shudder. Here are three scary-but-true fly fishing stories our listeners have shared with us.
Gary and the Rising River
“I once had a dangerous moment on Chatahoochie River in Georgia just below the Buford Dam.
”When the dam is about to release (which it does a few times per day), a series of horns will sound indicating the need to get out of the river and head to high ground. I was downstream on the opposite bank when I heard the first horn sound. I immediately began wading across the stream to get to safety, but the pool was already deeper than I expected.
“Then the second horn blew.
“I had to work my way back upstream to find another place to cross. I was mid-stream as the third horn made its call. At that point, I had to tighten my belt and swim across deeper pool created by swiftly flowing 45 degree water. I made safely across the pool.
“But the adventure was not over.
”I still had to run through the woods to avoid being cut off from my party by small tributary now gaining depth. After this final test, I looked back at river. It had risen ten feet in just under 15 minutes.”
Russ and the Deer Hunter
“One morning in late October in the middle of my state’s second rifle season, I arrived at my chosen fishing spot on the South Platte River and noticed a truck in the parking lot that didn’t appear to belong to a fisherman.
“As I walked down to the river, I noticed a group of mule deer bucks across the river in a meadow. I looked repeatedly from the truck to the deer. Then I looked at my waders and jacket. I was tan from top to bottom! So I decided to wait in my truck for a bit. Sure enough, right at shooting light, I heard a gunshot from the hills on the other side of the river. While the hunter did everything right, shooting away from the river and road, I’m still glad I decided to play it safe.
“After that experience, I always wear hunters orange while fishing during hunting season.”
Michael and the Charging Otter Fly Fishing Story
“I often fish alone in some of California’s more remote locations, and I have experienced quite a few nerve-racking encounters involving wildlife–bears, mountain lions, and rattlesnakes.
“However, regardless of how far-fetched it might seem, my scariest confrontation involved a river otter.
“I had just exited the river and was hiking back to camp when I spotted an otter about twenty yards away. I became mesmerized as I watched it swim effortlessly against the strong swift current of the Pit River. I quickly moved behind some brush about five yards from the riverbank and froze, hoping to go unnoticed in order to prolong the moment.
“As it approached the bank, the otter left the river at a run and headed directly towards me. It gave no indication of slowing down! I went from this serene moment of thinking “how wonderful it is to view wildlife in a natural setting” to “yikes, this thing’s coming after me!” The otter kept charging until my yelling and arm-waving got it to stop. It was only two feet away when it suddenly turned and headed back to the river.”
Stay alert and stay safe out there!