Where do fish go to chill out? (No, not stretched out over a bed of ice waiting for someone to come along and wrap them in newspaper.) Where do fish go to recharge their batteries?
I’m told that polarized sunglasses let you see into the water by taking out the glare. And I know that’s true because being an optometrist in a past life, I had the gizmos that demonstrated that. But on most occasions, I can’t see fish unless there are so many they take over the bottom terrain, or they flash, or they raise their fins as though asking permission to go to the bathroom. But I know they’re there watching me, even though I’m too inept to spot them.
I don’t believe fish migrate daily during most of the year. I mean, when I fish, if I don’t find fish, it’s usually because I’m offering the wrong pattern. But let some Philistine come along with a spinner tipped with an angle worm, well, all of a sudden, they’rrrre baaaack!
So what is this ability or desire to stay hidden, ignore great looking patterns that made you stick your chin out and nod with self-satisfaction after meticulously tying it after throwing the ten previous ties into the “seconds jar?”
If fish feed 80% of the time, why aren’t they taking your offerings more? You certainly can’t be unlucky enough to hit the river during that 20% down time every time you step foot in the water. Or, why, during a hatch, when they’re rising, slurping every other Brown Drake, only accidently do they take your pattern – even though yours looks more like a Brown Drake than the real ones?
I might have just answered my own question. It always comes around to my out-thinking myself. I’ve read so many books, seen so many videos, followed so many recipes and used the latest and greatest tying material since the invention of thread that I actually believe I know better what they’ll eat than they do themselves.
I guess it’s like managing a ballgame: You’re in the 8th inning with a two run lead and you go to the bullpen for a closer. Instead of tying on what imitates what they want, you tie on what looked good in the vise, and …well, empty creel again.