His theory, for the moment, is nymph until the hatch begins and then he switches to an emerger or dry.
Yep, that’s how it’s done, but don’t forget that for the most part the hatch begins at the bottom. Nymphing is a very productive and enjoyable form of fishing the hatch, at least for me. But, I too have spent countless hours sitting on a rock waiting for the emergence to hit the surface so I could wet a dry. As a matter of fact I have sat countless evenings waiting in anticipation for something that never happened, and never even made a cast.
Spence, I hope you don’t mind if I do a little rambling myself.
An hour, before one of natures most magical moments, known most intimately to the night fisher of the fly, I wind my way along the path that follows waters edge, not so much in search of a place, but a moment in time----dusk. For reasons I’ve yet to understand, the urge compels me, when and where, to enter the theater for this evening’s performance. As I make my way to the stage I find a comfortable seat, normally towards the back, from which the stage reveals itself in its immensity, and my viewing pleasure is best satiated. I sit, making myself comfortable, fidgeting with this and that, waiting for the curtain to raise and reveal this evening’s play. With nothing but time on my hands I think back to all the past performances, and theaters, I have attended. In my younger days, like most kids, I was unable to sit quietly. But, now that the rough edges have been smoothed over in my latter years, not unlike the freestone-boulder on which I sit, I realize just how much of the past plays I have missed, in my haste. Though the theme is often similar, the cast is never the same. And, it can be mellow dramatic and of short duration, or an evening long frenzy of activity, requiring an operatic understanding to comprehend. Yes, the music is also there, but one must listen, attuned to nature’s harmonious way. As time slowly ticks I catch a slight raise in the curtain, a few cast members have revealed themselves on the stage floor, in balletic like perfection, then disappearing as if Peter Pan. The audience begins to stir with excited anticipation; will this be another command performance? But just as quickly the activity ebbs and the audience returns to quite solitude. I sit, having never left my seat, watching as the lights have gone from dim to completely out. I stand and stretch my aching back making my way to the exit. Tonight’s play was canceled.