Why I use Barbless Flies...

Since then I crimp the barbs on my flies. I do this for several reasons:

• It is easier to release the NH Grayling (fallfish) that are my most frequent catch
• It would be easier to release me.

I have never hooked myself. However, I exhibit a rare ineptitude once a fly rod is in my hands. The likelihood of securely hooking myself is only diminished by the number of other objects I find to hook - trees, logs, rocks, bats, swallows. As long as I am surrounded by a comforting array of defenseless objects, I suppose I could fish with barbed hooks; but what about that day I am wading deep in a wide stream with no trees within reach? I don't take that chance.

Generally I don't hook mammals, as they are clever enough to acknowledge my casting skill. Also, my casting distance is limited - by the needs of the fishing, of course - so most remotely mobile creatures, especially fish, elude my hook. However, normally stationary objects seem to exert an attractive force on my flies. This probably could be explained by magnetic forces - the Poles will be shifting soon and they may be doing some practice runs.

Birds are my bane. Although I have never securely hooked a swallow, I once had a short tug-of-war with one over a fly I was casting. And several times one evening, swallows swooped down on a #16 Grizzly Variant I was fishing, picked it off the surface, and dropped it a few feet away. I don't believe they were attempting to assist me in my fishing at all.

I have often endured derisive cries from nighthawks, phoebes, jays, and other avian critics - who clearly don't even understand the rudiments of the sport but insist on offering advice anyway. I once had a flycatcher land on my rod tip as I was tying on a new fly. He looked at me, shook his head solemnly, made mention of someone named "Phoebe", but gave no suggestion as to fly size or type, so I ignored him. When I had the fly secure he departed ... and I CAUGHT FISH WITH THAT FLY. Which goes to show how little he knows about insects.

I would someday like to once again fly fish with someone in a boat. Alas, I had to give up that sport some years ago after a misunderstanding on the "X" River. Apparently close proximity to a world-class caster generates too much excitement in some people. Once, I adroitly covered a rise with my guide's hat. The Filson's rim fit perfectly within the spreading rings left by the trout. Rather than acknowledge the skill necessary to this feat, said guide had some harsh words - delicacy forbids their inclusion here - and my fishing partner refused to remove his cheek from the floorboards of the boat. Word soon spread in the fishing community about my skill, but it was not sufficient to overcome the calumny put forward by those - even my innate modesty must assume - less graceful casters. Now not a driftboat will bear me upon those pellucid waters. (Deep sigh).

CORRECTION: I have received some expressions of sympathy from readers who think I am lonely while fishing. That is far from the case. I enjoy the company of excellent fishing partners to and from distant streams; I even shout to them during the day. It is only their fear of encroaching on my fishing that prevents their approach while I have a fly rod in hand.

While fishing a local stream I was never alone. Once word got out that I was fishing, the lawn chairs appeared and people lined the banks. I would always accept this fame in good spirit, even though I knew that the local supermarket only sent their stockboy down to collect the grocery carts I snagged. Several youth photographed me casting and I can say that they made good money on the photos [note to self - get the negatives, too]. 

Even the local cable network sent some people down - apparently I was on local cable... at least my fly had hooked it, the wet leader had fallen onto a power line... There was no prosecution, but I received several death threats if I ever fly fished during playoffs again. Finally the local EMTs petitioned the town council for funds to cover their oxygen purchases - people with delicate health were so awestruck by my casting that their paroxysms required resuscitation. At this point the town discovered an old ordinance - really quite obscure - denying fishing within town limits to anyone whose fishing license number was from B173954 up to, and not including, B173955. As my license number was in the restricted range I have not fished my beloved stream since.