FLYMPH FORUM

One or two people asked why I am referred to as "the traditionalist". This really has nothing to do with fly-dressing as such, but is the result of the songs I sing.

This dubbing was not obtained in the manner described in the song, but it might have been!



http://www.file-upload.net/download-373 ... 0.mp3.html

The two lads singing the refrain are friends of mine I sang with. This is a live recording in a fairly large venue, and so the quality is not perfect, and unfortunately the first verse was accidentally deleted. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

You can find the text here; http://sniff.numachi.com/pages/tiKIELDH ... LDHNT.html

I fished in that area before it was flooded to make the Kielder Dam.

One of these days I am going to find a "traditional" song about obtaining "Tups" hair. Hopefully it will be suitable for public consumption! But even if it isn't it will probably be funny! Perhaps I should write one?

Maybe something like this?

I was sitting in my tree-stand, casting out my bait,
when a large fat deer came running by, and I realised far too late,
that the rod I held just would not do, for knocking out the beast,
it was only spooled with ten pound line, and I forewent a feast.

Determined then to have success, I took out my trusty gun,
and saw then much to my dismay, three large trout in the run
believe me friends my gun is good, but the easiest tool it's not,
how do you retrieve three trout, that are riddled with large shot ?

I threw the damn gun down again, and took up my trusty pole
would you believe it? Two fat deer,came to the drinking hole,
I raised my rod and aimed with care, then carefully flung the lead,
it flew straight as an arrow then, and hit the first one in the head,

The line wrapped round its antlers, and it took off at speed,
believe me when I tell you, life is hard when you are treed,
fifty yards, a hundred, it sped straight through the clearing,
I watched dismayed my backing, through the rod rings disappearing,

My reel it jammed, and frantically, I strove to get it free,
this is not a clever thing to do, when you are up a tree,
the reel jammed harder, and the deer ,made a determined bound,
it pulled me straight out of the tree, and then I hit the ground.

Although quite dazed, I still held fast, desperate for some fun,
then I was hit hard from above, by my falling gun.
the line snapped with a twang at last, and the gun discharged its load,
the deer just stood there waiting, I swear the damn thing crowed.

A burning feeling in my bum, then caused me some dismay,
and that is why I am standing here, to tell this tale today,
In spite of pain and dizziness, I fought my senses to regain,
I stumbled over the bloody gun, and it went off again.

The deer, a hundred yards away, dropped straight down stone dead,
and I stumbled backwards once again,trying to clear my head,
the river bank was close at hand, and I could hardly think,
two steps backwards ,and of course, I fell in the bloody drink.

I struggled down the pool and then, I slowly scrambled out,
and saw lying in the shallows, three lovely gunshot trout
I gathered up the fish then, could not believe my luck,
and went over to the fallen deer, to have a better look.

The line got tangled round my feet, and I crashed down once again,
when I awoke the line was tugging, and I got worried then.
I crawled along the tangled line, consumed with pain and fear,
and saw there struggling at the end, a brace of strangled deer.

I took a sip of water with a tablet to soother my pain and woe,
then I dragged my booty to the car, and prepared at last to go,
I gathered up my rod and gun, and reeled in all the line,
surveyed my booty with a grin, and started feeling fine.

Success at last I thought, well done, although not quite designed,
this will upset the purists, and to laugh I was inclined,
What with pain and stress and tablets, I did not drive with care,
and going round a corner, I hit a great big grizzly bear.

My poor head hit the windscreen, and I blacked out once more,
when I awoke, the bear was lying, stone dead on the floor,
With great resolve,I heaved and dragged, the bear onto the truck,
I got quite scratched and filthy, completely full of muck.

I reached my home town then at last, and pulled up at the bar,
I staggered in there for a drink, and help to unload my car.
The place was full of hunters, and anglers sitting drinking,
the drinks were brought, I told my tale, and that got some folks thinking.

I was hailed as the greatest hunter, that ever climbed a tree,
all my protests were ignored, and the town went on the spree,
the story it went on the wires, how half dead and single handed,
a bear, three deer, and three large trout, I nonetheless had landed.

Now some believed and some did not, and some just thought it crass,
but three shot trout, and the other stuff, and the buckshot in my ass,
finally convinced them all at last, that I was not telling lies,
all this is the honest truth, and why now I fish with flies !

TL
MC

but the easiest tool it's not,
how do you retrieve three trout, that are riddled with large shot ?

You know, I think you and Otter would fit right in here in Southern Appalachia. For years, my local flyshop had a skin-mount of the state record brown trout hanging on the wall that had come to hand courtesy of a bit of double-ought. Seems that one of our good old boys had been cruising the Forest Service road that runs above North River down in the Tellico National Forest when he spied the fish layed up in a shallow run; so--12-gauges being a bit more ubiquitous in this part of the world than North Country Spiders--he slipped down the embankment and sent the poor brown to its final reward. A little fib as to the "fly" it was taken on and challenging bit of taxidermy later, it became the stuff of myth and legend.

Yep, double-ought is good! Even Sage thinks so;

http://www.flyfishingaddicts.com/gr_sage00.html

TL
MC

Very cool--my formative years were spent in the company of a bunch of fox "hunters" here in the South; the scare quotes alluding to the fact that once the hounds were set out at night, the old men would congregate in a clearing around a fire and mostly just listen to the "race." (There well may have been instances of untaxed/unlicensed alcohol as well, despite the presence of a minor. )

FWIW, it's been conjectured that the red fox we have in America was actually introduced back in colonial times by nostalgic Englishmen--and no doubt they may have been frustrated by our native gray fox's tendency to "tree."

CreationBear wrote:[
You know, I think you and Otter would fit right in here in Southern Appalachia.

I dooooooooooon't think so, any Otter with survival instincts best stay clear of hooting tooting moonshine infused shotgun holding appalachians - Otter dubbing is a prized possesion and I wan't to keep mine on my skin.

http://www.scienceviews.com/indian/indianwhy7.html

TL
MC

hooting tooting moonshine infused shotgun holding appalachians

But Otter, who do you think we learned it from?


Mike-- Speaking of otter-skins, James Adair--one of the more famous Ulster Scot Indian traders--tells us that that was the preferred material for ones shot-pouch in Colonial days.

Indeed, it was popular for a lot of things, Several Indian tribes used otter skin caps or turbans;

http://www.powwows.com/gathering/showthread.php?t=50654

Here's a shot pouch;

http://buffalotrace1765.blogspot.com/20 ... lying.html

I have a few pieces of otter fur. I will try and take a photo if my camera has now decided to work.

You can buy some here;

http://www.chichesterinc.com/Otter.htm

TL
MC

Ha, great links; Cherokee headmen in this neck of the woods wore a "crown" made of opposum, which--compared to otter--seems rather declasse now that I think about it. At any rate, I'm sure trappers both then and now make sure their otters are well and truly dead--back on the farm, our German Shepard would kill everything from rattlesnakes to coyotes with abandon, but come across an otter track down by the river and she headed toward the house.