Red Quill -Wet

This fly is one of the really old ones, it is said to be on of four flies used by Lord Edward Grey. The fly is a creation from the wise of Thomas Rushworth who tied it for the first time in 1803. Later it was also tied as a dryfly, one of F.M. Hallford´s favourite flies. The dry fly is also represented here on my blog.

It is fished as an imitation of the Blue winged olive spinner but with it´s reddish-brown body it also represents several other spinners. It can be an invaluable fly on a river when the trout is bulging, feeding on nymphs. Though it looks more like a spinner it can also be very effective during a hatch of duns.

I tied this batch for a Wet fly swap on http://www.sparsgreymatter.com/. So these will be sent any day over the pond to one of my favourite tiers Jim Slattery, and shared to guys like Andy Brasko. Hard to get more competent feedback possibility than that. Hrm, got a little nervous there..

Tail: Reddish-brown hen fibers
Body: Stripped peacock quill dyed reddish-brown
Wing: Starling wing
Collar: Reddish-brown hen hackle

Winter nights

You relly need to talk your self into some positive thinking on days like this. The snow that we got last week now melting away and leaving a mess. Well a good thing is that it´s easy to talk yourself inte sitting down at the vise, reflecting over the past season and making plans for next. I just love sitting by the vise dreaming away. At Bffi  I got something to dream about, I got a really sweet offer making some DVD´s with Roland at http://www.sporting-scene.com/ so now I´m kind sitting and making plans for that, very exciting.

Made this little bug tonight for a Swap i´m attending. I call it a "Lazy Man´s Black Gnat"

I will leave you with some words from one of my heroes Theodore Gordon:

" It is a bitter winter´s night and I am far away from the cheerful lights of town or city. The north wind is shrieking and tearing at this lonely house, like some evil demon wishful to carry it away bodily or shatter it completely. The icy breath of this demon penetrates through every chink and crevice, of which there appear to be many, and the wood-burning stove is my only companion. It is on nights such as these, after the turn of the year, that our thoughts stray away from the present to other scenes and very different seasons. We return in spirit to the time of leaf and blossom, when birds were singing merrily and trout were rising in the pools. We remember many days of glorious sport and keen enjoyment, and then somehow our thoughts take a turn and leap forward. Spring is near, quite near, and it will soon be time to go a-fishing. We want to talk about it dreadfully. O for a brother crank of the flyfishing fraternity, one who would be ready to listen occasionally and not insist upon doing all the talking, telling all the stories himself. But if we cannot talk we can write, and it is just possible that some dear brother angler will read what we say upon paper".