1. Troutnut Forum
›
2. Fly Tying
›
3. Fly Tying with Jack

After reading Mcjames’ post, mentioning Jack Daniel’s in the CHRISTMAS PRESENTS discussion, I decided to purchase a bottle and give it a try. I first stopped at the local Fly Shop to see if they had a bottle. I was told that their supply had been depleted; it seems that someone had mentioned it on some Trout Fishing forum and it sold out that same day. The owner did state that he had a personal bottle stashed in the bottom drawer of his tying bench but that he would fight tooth and nail before giving it up. So I bought a single #22 Griffith’s Gnat, after which he suggested that I might find one across the street at the liquor store. He said he didn’t think fly tiers frequented liquor stores so there should be plenty on hand. I thought, great advice, thanked him and left. Well, while crossing the street I damn near bought the farm. Some SOB in a pickup truck almost ran me over, and didn’t even slow down. As I watched him weaving down the street I noticed a big arching decal across the rear window. It said, JACK DANIEL’S. I thought to myself what a coincidence. I made it into the liquor store and asked the clerk where I could find the Jack Daniel’s. He led me to the mash whiskey section, and sure enough there was plenty. I couldn’t help thinking, boy those Fly Shop guy’s really know their stuff. At the check out counter I asked if it could be gift wrapped and he obliged.

Once home, I ripped into the paper bag like a kid during its first conscious Christmas. I first examined the label for any instructions, but only found words like, Old Time, Old No 7, Tennessee, 80 Proof, Mature Taste and the like, which didn’t make much sense too me. I did find this on the side label and I will quote, “We all know age isn’t the same as maturity. It’s true of people and it’s true of Whiskey. Experience determines maturity.” Now that my friend is a truly sapient statement. This stuff has to be good, right?

After a three day binge of tying with Jack this is what I found; the more Jack you add the longer the tying session becomes. There is always time for one more. Creativity was definitely enhanced. I came up with several new patterns; The Super Stupor, The Bungle Bug, The Stutter Bugger, The Giddy Girdle Bug, The Puking Parmachene Belle, and The Slaphappy Sally, which when tied Parachute style became what I now call Helicopter style, and I haven’t even begun perfecting what I call my Dumb Numb Nymph. I tied until 3:00 AM, passed out at the bench, awoke at noon, called in sick, and continued on. I swear I reached a point where I could tie two flies at the same time. That was when I knew I was really on to something. I then discovered that if I wanted to tie just one fly all I had to do was close one eye. Another thing I noticed was that in the past my neck and back would start to bother me, but for some reason the pain wasn’t there. Again, I tied until 3:00 AM, awoke at noon, and called in sick. But this time my boss fired me, which caused a one sided verbal release from me containing a long rolling list of expletives and threats. My only regret was that Jack had to witness the exchange. But what the heck now we have more time to devote to tying. Running low on Jack, Jack and I headed out to purchase a case of our favorite dying and preserving medium, it’s always best to have plenty on hand.

It’s great to meet and make a new friend. As a matter of fact Jack and I have become so good at tying together that we have started a new fly tying video. TYING ONE ON WITH FALSIFLY AND JACK. We decided to do it in a series of five and we can’t wait to get to the fifth.

Great, great tale. I'm going to PM you an old one of mine from another post, but it isn't as good. Thanks for some good great fun. By the way, I grew up twelve miles from the Jack Daniels distillery, and two summers ago with my sister, wife, and two daughters, toured it for the first time on a trip home. One of my best friends, a whiskey connoisseur, much prefers the top end stuff they offer called "Gentleman's Jack," but I can't tell the difference. It is all made with water from a limestone spring, and though I looked for trout, saw none in the water there.

Louis-
Thank you for the kind words. I kind of felt that the posts and replies were tapering off and coupled with the rather heated discussions in the not so distant past I felt that maybe a little humor was in order. If you will forgive my extremely deficient writing skills and if anyone would like me to continue I am more than willing. Believe me when I say that the story is just starting to unfold.

Super Stupor and Bungle Bug, hilarious... my buddy once tied a hideous concoction he called the Ridley Stain (Ridley Creek is a much abused stream in suburban Phila, where we grew up). One night while drinking beer and fishing for largemouth at Springton Lake Reservoir he put it on and cast, and nailed a juvenile muskie... I laughed so hard I sat in the lake.

I think it was the fifth or sixth day after meeting Jack that my Mother-in-Law called. She asked if I would mind if the Wife and Kids moved in with her. I said nell ho I mean hell no and before I could get the next word out she hung up. Well that really pissed me off. Ya know I never did like that $!+(# anyway. Well I decided to talk it over with Jack and it wasn’t long before I started feeling warm and fuzzy inside. I realized that she was only looking out for my best interest. I mean what harm could be done by removing that nagging wedge between my new friend Jack and I. Mom, if you are reading this I take back what I said and I love you. I hope someday you will come to accept Jack as the caring and passionate friend he is. Well, with that out of the way I put my arm around Jack and gave him a big bear hug and we headed downstairs to the tying bench. It was getting after noon and we were late starting our tying session. As you will recall we are busy making our new fly tying video.

I grabbed a #12 TMC 5212 hook and proceeded to bury the barb smack dab into the tip of my index finger all the way to the shank. I then immediately clamped the hook into the vise extra tight. Lesson number one, always securely attach the hook. It wasn’t long and I began to see red. Well, seeing red I simultaneously thought San Juan Worm. In this sequence we wanted to show the versatility of Renzetti’s rotary capability. So with my left index finger I began to wind the rotary lever. It was a little hesitant to move at first but it got easier with each revolution. I wrapped the most perfect spiral of finger flesh you have ever seen just short of the eye. I tied off the flesh with clothes line cord, trimmed off the excess with tin snips, and whip finished with my Hamilton Beach blender. Realizing I was probably short of remaining finger flesh to tie another fly it dawned on me. As learned earlier all I needed to do was open both eyes, and presto two perfect flies. I removed the flies from the vise, and handed them to Jack to preserve and fix the color. I than had Jack help me with my finger, it didn’t hurt it just tingled. I’ve got to tell you Jack is one great guy.

I should mention that Jack is an expert with the camera. He says that it comes from his being nurtured and matured in a cask, I think he ment darkroom. After that he spent a lot of time looking thru glass. I guess it just comes natural. I still can’t figure out why he always sets up the camera from behind my chair. It seems to me that every time I sit down it blocks the view. But who am I to question an expert. I got to tell you I am really starting to like Jack.

Very, very funny stuff, Falsifly. This little web column is really taking off.

Awaiting the next chapter,
Shawn

Well it wasn’t long when Jack and I discovered that we were running short of tying material. And if you recall, I had lost my job, so money was getting tight. Not only that, but the expense of maintaining Jack’s friendship had taken its toll on my savings account. So once again I turned to Jack for help. After a long discussion Jack suggested I take him to meet the owner of the Fly Shop. Well, I rapped my arm around my buddy and we walked to the truck. I placed Jack right there in the front seat along side me; we were really becoming close friends by now. We drove to the Fly Shop and I entered the store with my arm around Jack. When I introduced Jack to the owner, who had introduced himself as Bob, you should have seen the smile on Bob’s face. If you remember, Bob had known Jack, but since Jack and I had become such close friends Jack was getting hard to find. As a matter of fact I pretty much had Jack all to myself, you couldn’t even find Jack at the liquor store any more. Like I said, Jack’s undivided attention came at a heavy cost. So I explained my situation to Bob and He said, “You bring Jack in here any time and leave him with me, and you can help yourself to anything”. Well I had to think this one over, I even took Jack into the back room to discuss it with him. You see I don’t take kindly to sharing Jack, but considering the circumstances I had no choice, so I agreed. I missed my buddy Jack not being there beside me, so much, that I had a case of the shakes the whole way home.

I parked the truck in the drive, entered the house through the front door, and made my way to the kitchen. It was at the entrance to the kitchen that I got the surprise of my life. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There sitting on top of the table was my buddy Jack. In my haste to reach him I started swaying and stumbling like a drunken sailor. I knocked over a couple of chairs, tripped and caught my chin on the edge of the table cutting my lip and biting my tongue. In the ordeal I managed to grab Jack by the neck bring him to my lips and I kissed him so hard I nearly sucked the life out of him. God it was good to see Jack.

We both agreed that it was time to start another tying session so we once again headed downstairs to the tying bench, and once again I had my arm securely wrapped around Jack. I had come across a rather rare find at Bob’s, it was a small package of #36 hooks. The printing on the package was so small that I considered contacting Bell Laboratory to see if I could borrow their electron microscope. There are certain brands that I refuse to use. Well, because of this rare find Jack and I decided to do a short session on the tying of midges, for our new video. After discussing this, never before caught on video segment, we thought of using a larger vise. You know, so that things are easier to see. So I brought down the 10 inch Craftsman bench vise from the garage. I had to modify the bench top to support the vise, but with Jack’s help we made do. Jack, what a great guy. I started with the jaws open to the full 10 inches, wanting to get this perfect. I’m sure we wasted a lot of video, but I feel Jack can edit that out latter. Placing the hook between my thumb and index finger I slowly tightened the vise until I felt a slight pain. It was more like the sting of a scorpion, but Jack was there to help. I extracted my thumb and finger from the vise, but the hook was nowhere to be found. The absence of blood had me confused because I had the distinct sensation that something was deeply imbedded into my finger. I conferred with Jack and we both agreed that the wire diameter of the hook was smaller than the corpuscle diameter of the red blood cells, which prevented their escape. The finger has begun to suppurate so I think, that in time, the hook will work its way out.

After the #36 fiasco, Jack and I thought it might be easier to demonstrate the midge using a larger hook and smaller vise. While at Bob’s I was fortunate enough to pick up another equally rare package of hooks. Bob said they were 20/0 saltwater. He said he sold them to the tug boat operators on the Great Lakes. I asked what for, and he just mumbled something about towing ships. It was a brand name that I wasn't familiar with, but Jack and I agreed to give it a try. That was a decision met with some trepidation as I certainly didn't want the hook to break, while fishing for those beautiful little Goldens at that secret little Alpine lake located atop the Rocky Mountains. The same place were I got lost last year and had to hitch a ride on that low flying Boeing 747 and ended up in San Francisco. But that’s another story. After consulting with my buddy Jack we commenced to mounting the 20/0 hook into the midge head of my Renzetti Traveler. We had to use the torch, but I succeeded in extinguishing the burning tying bench before it turned to ash. With Jacks help of course. This was a stroke of good fortune because this bench was heavily inlaid with gold. We both agreed that we could salvage the gold and include a short video segment on tying gold-bead head nymphs.

Just before we began to video I realized that I forgot to pick up a spool of midge thread at Bob’s. Jack suggested using one of my shoe laces with a 12 inch pair of channel locks for a bobbin. I’m telling you Jack’s ingenuity, in a pinch, is absolutely astounding. Well, I started binding in the makeshift thread when the phone began to ring. I reached over to pick up the phone and caught my left arm bicep on the point of the hook and made a perfect 6 inch incision. WOW! I was really going to need Jack’s help now. Jack and I rushed to the hospital emergency room, and upon entering were immediately confronted by security. It seems they were more concerned about Jack then they were about my blood soaked arm. I told them that Jack was attending to my medicinal needs until I could get to a doctor. Jack was quickly taken into custody and hauled off to the security room, for what I assumed would be a routine interrogation of the mishap. I was directed to the receptionist, after whom I was lead to a small room and told that the doctor would be in shortly. The doctor entered, stumbled almost to his knees while simultaneously covering his mouth and nose with his hand. I heard him mumbling something about the overwhelming presence of Jack Daniels. As the doctor examined my arm, mentioning something about stitches, I asked if he was going to use an anesthetic. He said that in my inebriated state I wouldn’t need one. I don’t understand doctor talk, so inebriated state went over my head. He pulled out a needle that looked a lot like a barbless pupae hook about #14. I watched him tie in the thread but didn’t recognize the knot; I thought maybe a blood knot, but didn’t ask for fear of sounding stupid. As he began to wrap me up I mentioned that I too was a tier of sorts. He asked, "what sort was that?" I said, "flies." He said, "so you are a fly fisherman." I said, "no I don’t fish for flying fish I fly fish for fish with a fly." He gave me a quizzical look from which I deduced that he was not a fly fisherman. I thought that doctors were fluent in Latin so he should have understood. But than again, being fluent in Latin as I am, I should have understood inebriated state. At about the twenty-fifth stitch, up to which I hadn’t felt a thing, I started to expound on the importance of proper hackling. He asked what hackle is, and I said,"chicken feathers." He said, "You must be one heck of a hackler." I said, "Yes I am one hack of a heckler, so good in fact, that I'm doing a video on it." At this point the doctor asked how I had lacerated my arm and I told him it was a fly tying accident. I said that I was going to include this mishap in the video to stress the importance of safety. He said that he didn’t know fly tying was so hazardous. I asked him if he tied flies, and he said no. I said," Well there you go." As he finished the last wrap I asked if he was going to whip finish it. He asked what I meant and I said adding five or six more wraps to keep it from coming undone. He said that he didn’t feel that was necessary. I was going to argue the point but didn’t.
I did learn some new knots and I couldn’t wait to tell Jack. I think we can fit them into the new video.

After being released I made my way to the security room in search of Jack. And sure enough, there sat Jack between the two security guards laughing and joking and having a good old time. As I grabbed Jack to leave the guards told us to stop in any time.

We finally made it home and thought it would be a good idea if we suspended the rest of the day’s tying session. So we spent the remaining time talking. You know with Jack around I don’t even miss the Wife and Kids.

Another very entertaining installment, thanks for the laughs.

Yes, keep 'em coming, Falsifly. I hope you're saving these for your next book.

-Shawn

Louis' by-line:



"Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly? A trout! that is more sharp-sighted than any hawk . . . and more watchful and timorous than your high-mettled merlin is bold!"

--Izaak Walton The Compleat Angler

Duly noted.

Dick

I was comfortably situated in my favorite easy chair, a bar stool, staring at Jack’s pint size stature atop the bar, nestled firmly in my right hand. We were engrossed in a mouth to mouth discussion, from which I was sucking Jack dry of all his intellect, or so I thought. Jack’s wit, humor and intelligence, is fathomless, and as I swallow to comprehend him more fully I find myself only more wanting of his special gift. And as I continue to indulge in Jack’s teaching I find that the more I learn the more he has to give. Our relationship, Jack as teacher and I as student, has resulted into a 24/7 class act. Just ask anyone who has had the pleasure to discuss, any topic, with Jack and I, and I am sure they will confess to being left in total awe.

At the bar in the basement, next to the studio we had set up for producing our fly tying videos, we were trying to solve our most recent dilemma. We were deplete of our tying materials, more specifically chicken feathers; because of the frenzy of tying activity, which literately had the feathers flying. Our supplier, which happens to be the farmer next door, had also curtailed his daily delivery due to the cold weather. He said he felt it best if he refrained from plucking feathers from his laying hens during the cold season. That, coupled with the fact that he had just cleaned the floor of the hen house, left us without even his #2 grade. This gave us the excuse to try something different; we had always wanted to try something a little more exotic. As we went through the stack of suppliers catalogs I was hit with a most profound idea; so simple really that I was surprised it hadn’t been thought of before. I was so excited about my idea that I asked Jack to guess what it was. For once I had Jack stumped. I said, “I’ll give you a clue. You know how much I love to tie the smallest of midges. And you know how hard it was to hackle those #36 hooks with chicken wing feathers, even the farmer’s best were difficult to wrap, right?” He said, “Yes, so.” I said, “Jack I can’t believe you don’t get this one.” And before I could blurt it out Jack said, “Humming bird feathers.” I said, “Yes, humming bird feathers. All we need to do is find a supplier of humming bird necks and saddles.” I frantically searched through all the catalogs to no avail, and finally turned to Jack and asked for his help. After a rather lengthy round of exchange Jack came up with another brainstorm. He said, “Humming birds fly south in the winter right?”
“Yes”
“And the higher you fly the less oxygen right?”
“Yes”
“So somewhere they have to be flying south very close to the ground right?”
“Yes, but were would that be?” Jack let me ponder that one for a moment then allowed me to ingest his intuitiveness.

The next morning Jack and I were up early booking our flight out. Our destination, you guessed it, Tibet. We are going to climb Everest and net the little buggers as they fly over. We might even stop in and say high to the Dali Lama. I’m sure we can leave him awestruck as well.

PS. Oh, by the way, for those of you who have never had the opportunity to experience the excellent high Himalayan trout fishing, of which Jack and I will partake, we will try to post a report on our return.


Our best to all, and living the high life,
Falsifly and Jack

welcome back to Jack! thanks for the update on your activities, Falsifly. go safe, and post all about it on your return. it'll be great to relax by the fire with Jack and hear all about it.

Ah, yes, a long time we've been waiting for this installment. Thanks again, Falsifly. And, of course, a hearty thanks to Jack, without whom such intuition and writing would not be possible.

-Shawn

Reminds me of a time my brother-in-law and I had a tying session with a fellow named Galliano. Whew! never saw such a bunch of flies. I am very partial to Jack Daniels, but never invited him to tie with me. Sounds like a very creative fellow who brings out the creative side of you as well! Guess I'd better invite him over for a session.

Anyway, love the recount of your experiences, Falsifly. You've opened up the door to new horizons!

Mark

We landed in the capital of Tibet “Lhasa” at an elevation of 11,975’ both higher than a kite. As I descended the air stairs, from the planes door, my nose began to bleed. I took a tumble the full length of the stairs and hit the ground smashed. I began laughing hysterically as I grabbed for Jack. I guessed I was suffering from hypoxia but after a little help from Jack I was quickly back on my feet and raring to go. We were on a mission and time was wasting; we had humming birds to catch. Besides we couldn’t dilly dally, we were going to meet the Dalai Lama. Prior to our departure I e-mailed his highness explaining how Jack and I had transcended our earthly bounds and had met with the “Awakened One” on more than one occasion. A reply was received forthwith informing us that the Dalai Lama was anxiously awaiting our arrival and that a meeting had been set up in the high temple of Lhasa.

We were transported from the airport and dropped at the foot of the temples massive ascending stairway, which had the appearance of disappearing into the celestial. As I climbed, I had the distinct feeling that I was indeed, on the stairway to heaven. Once inside the great hall, surrounded by its supporting monolithic stone pillars, I noticed the presence of a permeating incense like odor. Not the same, but not unlike, the odor I had experienced, in my college days, emitting from the funny looking pipes that were the craze of the day. As I breathed in deeply, to better experience the euphoria that was taking hold of my consciousness, I felt my body levitate to a level just above the ground. Movement no longer required the physical act of walking, but only the thought. I was then telepathically transported and seated, in a lotus position, before the Dalai Lama. Although my eyes were blind to the physical world, I saw---- what was---- in perfect clarity. Before me was spread a blank music score, encompassing the whole of eternity; I was the conductor, able to set and vary the metronome of time ever lasting. I was the one to write the music of the spheres, harmony was the end product of all effort; for any discordance would eventually be coupled with its cancelling counter part, visible only to those able to slip the shackles of time finite. I was able to see the essence that transcends form, and distinguishes fish from man. Through thought alone I became the constellation Pisces, swimming peacefully along the river of time, appearing stationary only to those trapped in the physical world. I was the painter, deftly applying with each brush stroke, the color to each and every scale; which I proudly displayed on the sides of my, trout, salmon and char. I was the fly tier from who’s vice took form the life of all insecta; launching the hatch of creation and giving to the dreams of all trout fishers. I now realized the frivolity of catching humming birds, as I had the power to unleash a plague of the finely feathered avian in biblical proportion to rival that of the locust.

Just as I was arriving at the pinnacle of my experience I realized that my connection with the “Awakened One” was becoming ephemeral. My blissful state was interrupted by Jack’s beckoning call for me to return to the worldly bounds from hence I had departed. As I descended from my lofty all seeing perch, contiguous with the infinitely ethereal time space continuum, I had the pleasure to conjugate with the likes of: Dame Juliana Berners as she penned The “Treatyse of Fysshynge with an Angle” and I will confirm authorship and authenticity as duly noted by Ernest Schwiebert. I listened as Walton read from “The Compleat Angler”. I watched poetry take form on paper from the hand of John Donne. I conversed with Charles Cotton within the confines of his Beresford Hall home. I studied aquatic biology alongside Alfred Ronalds. I witnessed as the final period was placed, compleating George Philip Rigney Pulman’s “Vade Mecum of Fly-Fishing for Trout”. I watched William Stewart cast upon the Tweed. I took a front seat to Halford and Skues as they argued opposing techniques. I waved as: Ritz, Sawyer, Bethune, Norris, Van Dyke, Gordon, Steenrod, La Branch, Connett, Jennings, Knight, Bergman, Leisenring, Flick, Marinaro, Brooks, Fox, and Hewitt pasted en route to their favorite spots.

Comfortably situated in my favorite easy chair, a bar stool, I arose from the quiescent dream world. As my vision slowly gained focus I found myself staring at the pint sized stature of Jack standing atop the bar, still firmly grasped in my right hand. But the empty vessel confirmed that Jack’s spirit had long since departed. Yes, Jack sacrificed his all sending me into the dream world. The farmer next door, the humming bird feathers, the trip to Tibet, the temple, the levitation, The Dalai Lama, Nirvana, the conjugation with past great inspires of the beloved sport of fly fishing, all of it----- a dream.

I withdrew from the liquor cabinet, another gift from the heavens above, a fresh vessel of jack’s esoteric tonic. A new day had dawned, so Jack and I headed to the bench. We had worked to do. Before I sat down at the vice and Jack took his position behind the video camera, I turned to Jack and asked, “How do you do it?” He replied, “It’s as easy as looking through the bottom of a glass.”

Boy, time sure flies when you’re having fun. Why it was just the other day that Jack and I were comfortably seated in our favorite easy chair, the bar stool in the basement. We were reminiscing while tipping a few, maybe a few too many, but who’s counting? Jack mentioned that we haven’t visited our Troutnut friends for a while, so we thought maybe it’s time to bring the fly tiers up to speed on what has transpired since we last posted on “Fly Tying with Jack”.

Well as you probably recall my wife and kids left me right after I first met Jack. Yes they moved in with my mother-in-law, bless her heart. So I’ve been going through this nasty divorce which I think is finally coming to an amicable conclusion. Her divorce attorney was an SOB to deal with, but I finally put my foot down. I made it absolutely clear that if my demand was not met I would not agree to the divorce. As with most divorces it became vindictive, so I took great pride in stripping my ex (Jack calls her my training wife) of her most cherished possessions. Yes my only demand was the complete contents of her sewing room. She got the house, the cars, including the Ferrari, the airplane, the yacht, and the beach front estate on Grand Cayman. Jack says I really took her to the cleaners because now we have enough fly tying thread to only have to visit Bob’s once a week. I think poor Bob may have been shafted too, because he really enjoyed Jacks regular daily visits. Oh well, life goes on. As a side note I’ve got a letter into Renzetti’s R&D department. Jack figures we might be able to incorporate the Singer sewing machine into a new head design and automate the tying process. Great idea jack!!!

On a much sadder note I lost my beloved Persian cat Simone. She was struck and killed by a car on the street in front of the house, just the other day. While drowning my sorrow with the help of Jack he uplifted my spirit by turning a great loss into a fortuitous gain. Jack mentioned that road kill was a much sought after prize within the fly tying community, so we skinned the cat. She now hangs thumb tacked to the wall next to the tying bench for easy access when we tie our rendition of the Catskill style flies. Oh, and one other thing. Jack mentioned that in the spirit of our environmental conservativism the entrails should not go to waste. He had me scratching my head there for a minute, but I finally caught his gist. Duh, cat gut leaders. I'm tellin ya, Jack is quick with the wit.

We stopped over to farmer Brown’s last week to pick up another bag of his platinum grade chicken feathers. He said that we were in luck; he had just swept the floor of the chicken coop after his roosters got into a fight. We had one other favor to ask. Jack and I had been pondering the idea of genetically modified chickens, so we were in search of some laying hens. Farmer Brown said that that too was no problem. It just so happened that he had a couple of old hens that were no longer producing and that we were welcome to them. Jack and I were on a roll. I thought that maybe on the way home we should stop and buy a lottery ticket. We were halfway to becoming famous. All we needed now was a peacock to mate with our chickens. Now before you laugh this off as total absurdity be aware that both chickens and peacocks share a common ancestry. They both share a family history, that of the family Phasianidae. Jack, through his infinite wisdom, has convinced me that since they both come from the same family inbreeding should be a no-brainer. Hell, Jack is from Tennessee he should know something about that.

Speaking of ancestry my last name is Leonard, a rather well known name within the fly fishing brotherhood. While at the liquor/grocery store the other day; picking up our two daily bags of sustenance, ice, and visiting Jack’s kin in the whiskey isle, we past the fresh produce. Without the help of Jack I would have never stumbled across the idea of continuing the Leonard legacy. There, neatly wrapped in cellophane, was a styrofoam container of bamboo sprouts. We have now started a garden and expect the tradition of fine bamboo fly rods to continue on in the Leonard tradition.

Well, as you can see, a lot has happened since we last checked in. Jack and I have become quite the enterprising team. And it all started out with our fly tying video idea. So you ask, what has become of that endeavor? Well Jack and I have since posted our first YouTube video titled “Fly Tying No-See-Ums with Falsifly and Jack”. I’d be surprised if any of you missed it, as it just went viral last week. Its been out about a month and we finally got our first hit. Please Google it and leave your comments. So far the single comment has been a testament to our innovative tying style and Jack’s ability to capture the essence in smoothness, with the blend of distinctive taste, as his mind altering video skills release the viewer’s inhibitions. I’ve been stumbling and sometimes even crawling to the mailbox daily, anticipating that letter from Hollywood.

Our best to all, and living the high life,
Falsifly and Jack.

You didn't!? ;) I'm not too upset over the fate of the feline, but the distance you had to take to get to that pun...:)

Spence