The next weekend the family and I went to Trout Hunters, a really nice trout farm near Krugersdorp. They had just restocked, so there were lots of fish in the dams, and they were hungry! I decided to try out my fly, which I’d named, slightly self-deprecatingly, the “Floppy Wasp”. After I’d been told by several of the less gushingly encouraging of the fly tying fraternity that though it was a good first effort, it was not an especially well-designed fly, I was not expecting much success with it. But, what is a fly for if not to get it wet? So I tied it on and cast it.
On the water, at first it lay on its side with one wing upstretched, looking like a very sad wasp that had decided to commit suicide. On the first retrieve strip, it sank disconsolately under the water, “sinking like a brick”, as had been predicted by those in the know. As it slipped under the surface, there was a swirl and a splash, and I’d had a bite! I was not ready for it, not expecting it to be at all attractive to the fish, so I struck too late, and didn’t hook the fish. Now I knew that there were at least some fish out there that didn’t know anything about proportions, or correct materials, and they wanted my Floppy Wasp! So I cast a few more times, and then had another
enthusiastic take on the fly. Overexcited now, I struck too early, and again missed the fish. Either these fish were starved to death, and prepared to take anything at all, or my fly was better than the experts gave it credit for. I cast again, and this time, the fly was beautifully taken, my strike was perfectly timed, and the fish was on the hook. It gave me a good fight, I drew it in, netted it and happily retrieved my now slightly dishevelled-looking Floppy Wasp from its mouth.