In British Columbia, however, there are long established seasonal events of predator and prey relationships that involve large trout and forage fish to the exclusion of even the most enticing insect hatch. Every spring, for instance, giant rainbow trout in deep, cold lakes gather at the mouths of rivers in anticipation of the incoming sockeye fry. Along the coast, sea-run coastal cutthroat ascend the rivers, crowd the tidal pools, and cruise the estuaries feasting on the emerging fry of pink and chum salmon. Lake-dwelling cutthroat and predatory rainbows wait for the fry of kokanee and Dolly Varden, bull trout, and brown trout never lose their interest in salmon fry, sticklebacks and sculpins.
These are significant natural events that have inspired the design of well known fly patterns and have registered the names of legendary anglers in the books. Haig-Brown explains himself with tact and eloquence and readily accepts that "when and where fry and forage fish are a major item of the trout’s concern, [fly fishing] presents a maze of problems all its own that are fully worthy of any good fisherman’s attention."
One such seasonal event which seems to have escaped the attention of many a good fisherman, is the predator and prey relationship between trout and the fry of the smallmouth bass. The reasons for this oversight are not difficult to point out.
Historically, in fly fishing circles, this "un-natural" coexistence between Western trout and Eastern smallmouth bass has drawn attention only recently, despite the fact that it has been over a century since the first bass fry were dropped into Langford and Florence Lakes on Vancouver Island (reportedly at the request of sport fishers). At the same time, smallmouth bass were introduced into Christina Lake in Mainland British Columbia. Through a series of authorised and unsanctioned plantings, the fish soon found their way into other lakes and today they are well established on Vancouver Island in at least sixteen documented lakes and perhaps in several others unaccounted for. They are also doing remarkably well in St. Mary’s Lake on Salt Spring Island.
Its limited distribution notwithstanding, the West Coast smallmouth bass has gradually earned a faithful following of fly fishers, although it is still largely treated by dedicated trout fishers with an air of indifference and at times with downright contempt. From personal encounters, I have grown to respect the smallmouth bass as a game fish of lofty character and fair beauty, and although I do not go out of my way to fish for it, I have caught it many times with the fly, either incidentally or out of mild curiosity. But, it is in my pursuit of rainbow trout that the smallmouth bass really interests me.
When I first saw bass fry swimming in the shallows of several lakes in Victoria, flagging themselves with their orange and black-banded tails, it dawned upon me that in the relationship between smallmouth bass and trout, the trout must be the major predator. Naturally spawned young trout, of course, can easily fall prey even to the smallest bass, but in most stocking programs the trout are usually already large and swift enough to evade predation by the sluggish, ambushing bass.
At the end of every spring, after spawning, the male smallmouth bass instinctively undertakes the sole responsibility of protecting the eggs and the newly hatched fry. His paternal urge and patience, however, eventually run out. By the end of June or beginning of July, the bass fry are on their own, gathering nervously together, seeking the shelter and protection of underwater vegetation. Abandoned and naive, they become easy pickings for the fast-slashing trout—and considering the proliferation of smallmouth bass in local lakes, their fry must be the preferred food of summer for both rainbow and cutthroat trout.
Based on observations, samples, and field drawings, I got busy during the winter months developing an imitation. The tail of the fly is a blatant give-away, as though the golden pheasant tippet was always meant to be the tail of a bass fry imitation. The finely barred olive mallard I find essential for the wing, and although the two colours of polar bear fur ended up supporting and enhancing the shape of the wing, I initially employed them merely as aesthetic frills. The hackle fluff throat I also consider quite significant and it is a feature that I have now established for all my fry and minnow imitations.
With the advent of epoxy flies and glitzy synthetic fly tying materials, the use of hackle in minnow imitations has fallen into disrepute. One author wittily reiterates that bait fish have no hackles, but bait fish have pectoral fins, and often the nervous, undulating motion of these fins is the only hint that some living creature is stirring in the weeds. I would agree that the traditional wrap-around hackle is usually too stiff and lifeless, but a soft hackle, or a fluffy throat, does complement the shape and action of a streamer intended to be fished extremely slowly along the edge of weed beds, drop-offs, or right off the bottom.
When the stifling hot days of summer came - the kind that normally discourages fly fishing in the lake - I put my pattern to the test. Within five minutes on the water, a sixteen-inch rainbow grabbed the fly viciously as it was sinking slowly by a weed bed. All through the afternoon, the rainbows kept coming to the bass fry with abandon, and just before dark a 21-inch brute nearly tore the fly rod off my hands. Soon enough, I discovered that the big rainbows went hunting in the evening, favouring the same haunts and paths of travel, night after night. These were guarded and elusive trout, the kind that lends weight and validity to a fly fisher's theories and knowledge—sleek, heavy, powerful and high-mettled trout, and despite the occasional genetic blemish, beautifully coloured and proportioned, perhaps at their best possible condition before becoming gravid with eggs or ripe with milt. On one unforgettable occasion, I came close to getting spooled during a single sustained run. This rainbow, which finally surrendered, was 21 inches long with a girth of seventeen inches. When I later attempted a drawing of this fish based on photographs, I took the liberty of trimming an inch or two off its unsightly belly to make it look presentable.
Within a period of two seasons, I had carefully mapped the summer evening movements of these fish in all the major lakes of Victoria (Prospect, Elk, and Langford), by simply catching them and marking the spots with landmarks. What emerged from this approach were tight and specific "hot spots," waters that gave up the largest trout time after time. Names such as "No Man’s Land," "Perch Alley," and "Green Gables," were whispered carefully among trusted friends, and one can still take a bass fry there on any July or August evening and confidently expect some great sport.
It is a rainy, gloomy day in winter now, and I am tying flies for the summer. With every Bass Fry that I put together, a rush of memories and uncontrollable anticipation floods my heart and mind.
Artist Portfolio:
Loucas Raptis is an illustrator based in Victoria, British Columbia. A dedicated fly fisherman and a keen naturalist, his work reflects his passion for the outdoors. He is currently involved in a six-year project, The Freshwater Fishes of Vancouver Island, a series of fine limited edition prints in the style of nineteenth century hand-coloured lithographs which features trout, salmon - and, of course, bass. He has recently produced a set of four greeting cards depicting brown trout and steelhead from the Cowichan River, the sea-run cutthroat of Bazan Bay, and the rainbow trout of Elk Lake. The set, the first in an upcoming series celebrating the game fishes of B.C., sells for $12 CD. His original illustrations and limited edition prints are higly sought after and are available through his web site, at: www.islandnet.com/~benrap/
His art can be viewed and purchased at Silhouette On Beacon, an art gallery located at 2492 Beacon Avenue, in Sidney, B.C., just outside Victoria. The gallery's phone number is: 250-655-4900.
