Wading into fall fly fishing

The week has been a little unusual. While it's now well into the upland game season, the summer-like temperatures seemed far too warm to run a dog around the fields for very long. It just felt like it was time to break out the fishing equipment and take a walk along a stream. It didn't take much to convince me, and the Mad River was waiting. I grabbed my old Orvis Far and Fine fly rod, a reel loaded with a 5-weight floating line and my waders, then began to search my fly boxes. Any normal mid-November would likely call for streamers and nymphs — but it is 2020. It might be better if I took a little of everything. Fly fishing is a tinkerer's sport — at least it is for me. There are many little intricacies to pay attention to, and the learning curve is always bending in different directions. What works today may not work tomorrow. I've become something of an expert at proving that axiom. You need to immerse yourself into the fish's world. That means trying to figure out what's on the current menu, a list which includes smaller fish, aquatic insects and any bugs flying around or falling into the water. Then you have to consider the psychotically fickle decisions trout display when choosing a meal. I can almost hear those aquatic discussions: "Gee, Sally, you want to grab some emerging Mayflies?" "No, Stewart, we had those yesterday. How about sculpin?" "I don't feel like fish. You think the scuds look good?" "Well …" Then there's the art of the cast (in my case, abstract art). Overhanging trees have always been my bane, and the Mad River is well known for its canopy. If a single limb is hanging over the water, my hook finds it faster than any nearby fish lips. It used to frustrate me, but then I realized it's part of the game. If you're fishing areas most likely to hold fish, you're destined to get tangled up, including with the trees that have fallen into the water. Experience helps reduce the mishaps — at least, that's what I've been told. I haven't even mentioned wading, since anyone following me would describe my attempts as something between a splashing waltz, playing Twister and an old-school baptism. Thankfully, during this time of year, the Mad River offers comfortable wading with most pools easily handled. Yes, fly fishing employs more skill than tossing a bobber and a worm. While some may look at it as complicated, I see it as providing a multitude of excuses — something handy for any ardent angler. Surprisingly, I managed to catch two young, inexperienced brown trout and one creek chub with an attitude. As I suspected, the fly they all chose wasn't the bead-head nymphs or dace patterns I tossed. It wasn't even the little ant imitation that caught their attention. It was a very small royal coachman dry fly, a classic first created in 1878, designed to attract attention rather than imitate anything in particular. Honestly, I've seldom fished them, preferring to try to match my best guess of what the current edibles are on or in the water. Apparently, that needs to change. While I was surprised that the coachman caught the fish's attention, it proves that there's a reason why the fly is still a prominent option for many experienced anglers. It also sort of validates my belief that desperate fly choices can simply frustrate a fish into a sympathy strike. I can thank my fly-tying friend Kevin Ramsey for the few I had on hand. The Mad River is birthed in the rolling topography near Zanesfield in Logan County and empties into the Miami River in downtown Dayton. Its name wasn't always the Mad. The Shawnee called the stream Hathennithiipi, and the new settlers and explorers in the area used the names Mad Creek, Tiber River and Fiume Mad. The Mad River isn't angry at all; its name referring to the stream's broken and rapid current. The spring-fed Mad River is the largest coldwater fishery in Ohio and one of the few streams in the state that hold native brook trout. The Division of Wildlife regularly stocks brown trout in the stream, though natural reproduction is low due to sedimentation, extensive agricultural runoff and diminishing habitat. Nevertheless, some nice browns lurk under overhanging (read, "hook-snagging") vegetation and undercut banks as they lay in wait for their next meals. There are at least five public access points from Zanesfield to Urbana. A map of the area is available at wildlife.ohiodnr.gov. Use the site's "search" for "river and stream fishing maps" and you're ready to go. If you want to learn more about fishing the Mad River or want to get involved with like-minded anglers working to improve the stream's ecology, visit Trout Unlimited's Madmen Chapter. They're involved in stream health monitoring; youth programs; and with Project Healing Waters, which uses fly fishing to help disabled military service personnel and disabled veterans. Visit them at http://tumadmen.org/. "Maybe your stature as a fly fisherman isn't determined by how big a trout you can catch, but by how small a trout you can catch without being disappointed." — John Gierach Along the Way The Ohio Department of Natural Resources (ODNR) is offering a new incentive program to encourage farmers to aid in conservation and improve water quality. Applications will be accepted for its Water Quality Incentive Program (WQIP) from Dec. 1 through Jan. 29. The program is being offered in combination with the Lake Erie Conservation Reserve Enhancement Program (CREP), a U.S. Department of Agriculture conservation program that offers landowners financial compensation for taking cropland out of production and establishing conservation practices. This new program offers a one-time payment of $2,000 per acre for new CREP wetlands and forested riparian buffers (buffer strip with trees). Wetlands and buffers act as filters to reduce nutrient loading into waterways, help reduce flooding, and help to stabilize streambanks to reduce soil erosion. The program is one of several H2Ohio efforts currently underway, including the Forder Bridge Project in Paulding County, the Fruth Wetland Nature Preserve in Seneca County, the St. Joseph Confluence Reconnection in Williams County, the Van Order Wetland and Forest Restoration in Henry County and the new wetland area east of the Andreoff Wildlife Area in Wyandot County. Abrams is a retired wildlife officer supervisor for the state Division of Wildlife. He can be reached at P.O. Box 413, Mount Blanchard, OH 45867-0413 or via email at jimsfieldnotes@aol.com.