The Oklahoma summer is a broiler searing all life. I am not hot; I am denatured. Is it truly worth going outside? The rational mind says no, but there is an oasis that beckons. A farm pond breaks the monotonous landscape and parts the crackling sea of dried grass.
Willows! They are my summer friends. They know what others do not, that when Hyperion rises high in the noon hour that there is still refuge to be sought. I step into the mossy shallows and fry scatter like olive missiles seeking a distant shore. My ankles sink into the oozing grime and I am instantly refreshed. Mind you, not in the manner of a frosted glass of lemonade; I am refreshed because I have found a place of comfort and of (arguable) productivity even during nature’s harshest tantrum.
With straw hat atop my head and bamboo rod in hand I smirk at what I must look like; an absurd westerner’s attempt to recreate a Vietnamese farmer tramping through a rice paddy. I am after fish, not grain, so once I commit fully and venture waste deep in my wilderness spa I begin to whip and weave my rod through the air and miraculously my fly falls perfectly. It skitters and dances as I bring in line—a hapless grasshopper frantically treading water. Then, with the stealth of a prowling leopard, an iridescent sunfish flies from the underwater jungle of a weed-bed, calls my bluff, and mauls my fly in a violent splash. Of course in my listless contemplation I am taken completely unaware by this occurrence and heave my rod, knee-jerk style. My yellow popper whizzes by my head, missing by the smallest of margins. I see the perch fly back into the jungle in a flash of gold, orange and yellow. The leopard has shown the “Great White Hunter” who is the true predator.
Pumpkinseed Sunfish
http://www.dictionaryoffish.com/freshwater_fish_directory.htm
Undeterred I once again wave my rod towards the cover and I don’t even have time to blink—the panfish is incensed and swallows my fly whole. This time I manage to arc my rod correctly and feel the surge of the fish on the line. I forget the heat. I forget my allergies. I forget where I am. All that I know is that I am locked with something powerful beyond reason. This tiny fish, ounce for ounce, is unfathomably determined. I manage to bring him to bear without capsizing myself (quite a feat) and behold him in the August sun. What a trophy! The sheen and color of a sunfish outshines any bird of paradise. I gently lower him back into the depths and he parts company hastily. I continue my antics until dusk. Somehow, despite it all, I have found my own small paradise.
If you want to try your hand at panfishing, this is one of the most productive patterns ever. I think I paid .35 cents a piece for mine (I bought them in bulk).
[Picture from D's Flies http://www.dsflies.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=66]
