We might all agree that since the dawn of fly-fishing time, the benchmark for “success” has, for better or worse, revolved around “catching the big one.”
When you tell your spouse, friends or anyone else you had a great day on the river, what’s the first question you get asked to substantiate your claim?
“Anything huge?”
“Well… yes… I guess. But you should have seen the curl cast I made, dropping that bug under an overhanging branch… and I drifted it just right and saw the fish rise and inhale the fly…”
“How big?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure, I just let it go after I caught it.”
“Did you get a photo?”
“Well, no, I just released it.”
Silence. Maybe rolled eyes.
At least you know what happened, and when you get to a certain stage in your angling pursuits, that’s all that really matters, after all. It’s about the “how,” at least 100 times more than the “how big.”
But the drive to land the big one also makes total sense on a number of levels.
- Let’s be honest; it’s more fun when you tie into something large.
- The longer, fatter fish tend to be the older, wiser ones, if you’re willing to concede that any creature with a brain the size of a nut is “wise.”
- When you put two and two together, and manage to fool an older, larger fish that certainly reflects some level of expertise.
Sure, luck has always played a part in anything related to fishing. But when you’re dry-fly fishing, that’s all about fair chase—I think more so than any other piscatorial pursuit in the world. So, when you land Mr. Big on a dry, go ahead and take a bow and feel proud.
Still, it’s important to remember that there are many, many other ways to appreciate your day on the water and perhaps more importantly, all the stuff around you that you experience and what those things mean.
I remember, for example, one afternoon fishing with the late, great guide Dan Stein on the Bighorn River in Montana. We fished under a black caddis swarm, and we saw a hefty riser working religiously along the bank. I made what I thought would be the perfect cast, but alas, an 8-inch brown trout leapt out of the run and inhaled my fly, mere inches away from the zone where I thought “Big Daddy” would fall victim.
We skated that fish into the net and before we released it, Dan held it in his palm just above the waterline and admired its beautiful colors.
“You know what this is?” Dan asked.
“Dunno… a little brown trout?” I answered.
“Nah… it’s job security,” he smiled.
As it turned out, we never got another chance at the big boy. And that was fine.
Today, the more I fish, the more I’ve grown to appreciate catching the small trout. Especially the wild ones, and even more so, the native ones.
Because those are the fish that tell you that the world is right. The water is right. The big fish are making little fish. And that’s a win for all anglers, on any level.
Long ago, I gave up the notion of chasing “record” fish, if that means using a certain size leader or tippet to get the job done. If that’s what floats your boat, fine.
But for me, a true “trophy” is the kind of fish—e.g. the native, albeit relatively tiny, cutthroat in a high mountain stream—that represents a healthy, natural ecosystem.
Because those fish are the future, and they demonstrate true victory for all anglers who really care about the future of fishing.