So you want to be a fly fisher Person!

I think that anyone who has seen (A River Runs Through It), has dreamed about taking up fly fishing.  Before you start you have to realize that fly fishing is more of an art than a sport.  My pastor taught me how to fly fish.  He took me to a beautiful fishing hole on the Boulder River in South-Central Montana.  He tied the same fly that he was using (a yellow simulator) on my line.  We fished for an hour, I caught two fish, and he caught twenty.  I asked him his secret, and he said “it’s all in the presentation”.  I definitely didn’t have the master’s touch.  These days I stick mostly to lure fishing, and only bring out my fly rod during hatches, but if you must, here are some tips for novices.

Get good equipment, a four piece graphite rod is a good place to start.  It’s a good idea to get a rod with a lifetime warranty, I have broken three or four rods over my fly fishing career.  A kit that includes a rod, reel and line costs between $150 to $300, if you buy everything separately it will cost you more money.  Avoid plastic reels, pay the extra cash for a good quality metal reel. Your local fly shop will recommend what kind of flies to use for where you are going fishing, rivers are easier to fly fish than lakes or ponds.  Although you may want to start on a lake or pond, and practice casting where there is no current.  You’ll also need waders, boots, and a good rain jacket.

Take a class, contact your local fly shop or community education center, many of them offer beginner glasses.  This is a good place to start.    Also consider going on a guided trip, you’ll learn a tremendous amount fishing with a professional guide all day.  Be careful, it is easy to get in over your head, pardon the pun.  Fishing is ranked the fifth most dangerous sport in the world, people drown every year.  A good rule of thumb is just don’t push it, and go with a partner when you can.

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You don’t have to be an entomologist in order to figure out what fly to use.  Just look at what’s flying around you, what’s floating on top of the water and what’s crawling on bank.  Then match the closes looking fly in your box to it, because that is what the fish or finding on.

Finally get yourself a really cool looking fedora, because even though you are a novice you still want to look cool doing it.

Good luck and good fishing.

My First Gun, My First Deer & My First Bull

Ranch & Farm kids grow up differently the city kids.  By the time I was ten years old there was nothing on the ranch that I couldn’t drive or ride.  Those of you that think ranching is easy, try working on one for a week, you’ll definitely have a change of mind.  Fortunately my Dad love to hunt and fish, so he passed that love to me and my brother.  It may shock you to learn I got my first gun when I was three, a Rough Rider BB gun which I still have today.  I promptly took it and shot out a window in my Dad’s shed.  Every since then, I have shot everything that I could get my hands on, and hunted everything I could get a tag for.  I was on the local Jaycee’s BB gun team.  I was a deadly sniper with my BB gun, there wasn’t a pop can in the county that wasn’t afraid of me.  Before I was old enough to hunt deer myself, I would tag along with my Dad and finish off his deer with my BB gun.

When I was twelve years old, I was finally old enough to take hunter’s safety and get my own deer tag.  Back in those days you purchase a deer tag OTC in Montana for $10, and if you wanted an elk tag they would give you one for free.  I had my big brother’s hand me down 308 level action savage, which I used to kill dirt clods with all summer.   My first real deer was on the first day of season. I saw a big mule deer buck just walking up a fence line about a 100 yards ahead of me.  I took my time, aimed and squeezed the trigger.  This was a 6 by 6 point buck, with a spread measuring 30 inches.  To this day I have never shot one bigger.

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Although I was an accomplished deer hunter, in my family you didn’t become a man until you harvested your first bull elk.  My family would take a week off work every Thanksgiving, and drive the horses with all our gear up to the mountains.  We would pack from 10 to 20 miles, and hunt elk off horseback.  My Dad didn’t let me go until I was 15, because he thought that I wasn’t a strong enough rider.  This was puzzling to me because I grew up on the back of a horse, and even competed in youth rodeo, I thought that I was a pretty good cowboy!  I think my Dad just didn’t want to put up with me, but after years of begging and pleading he finally let me go.  We hunted in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, before there were any wolves there, and it still took me five years to harvest my first bull finally becoming a man when I was twenty years old.