I believe there are a lot of fishermen who still think that fishing a nymph is similar to fishing a team of wet flies or stripping in big lures.  Yet nothing is further from the truth and, if you really are to have success with true nymphing tactics, then the sooner the other kinds of fishing are forgotten, the quicker a bag will be filled.  Nymph fishing must be considered as an entirely separate art, and methods, to be proficient at it, must be adapted accordingly.  This means that you must dismiss from your mind most of what has been learned with the dry fly, wet fly and lure-stripping practices, and concentrate on something which is quite different.  As I have said, and indeed written many times, once the penny drops, so to speak, nymph fishing becomes the most artistic way by which fish can be caught, or so I think.

 

Most people who can cast a line to deliver dry flies, wet flies etc, can also cast a nymph in a way that is likely to attract some feeding fish, at least.  But in the great majority of cases with those who are learning, it is after the nymph is presented that failure occurs.  Failure comes in some cases by not knowing just how to use a rod to make the offering look lively and attractive, and secondly, which is by far the most important, in knowing that the fish has taken the offering.  So many, who have fished in other ways, think they must see some disturbance at the surface, as is the case when fishing floating flies, or to feel a decided pull on the rod tip which leaves no doubt that a fish has taken, as happens when fish take offerings such as wet flies and lures fish with a decided drag beneath the surface.

 

My object in writing now, is to recap on some of the more important explanations I tried to offer in my books, and, in fact, to stress the few things which I consider to be the fundamentals of successful nymphing.  Foremost of all these I would say is good eyesight and quick reflexes, for so much must depend on noticing just what happens, and acting immediately.  Concentration and anticipation must come second, for even if you have good eyesight and reflex action, neither is of any use unless you are intent on your fishing and expecting a take.  In this respect one might say that nymphing can be more tiring than any other style of fishing.  The reason is that there is so little to see, and only by watching very intently can any indications register.

 

Casting and the general presentation of a nymph might be called mechanical, and the delivery of an artificial in an accurate and delicate manner must depend on one’s ability to use a rod.  One thing, however, must be kept well in mind.  Casting is just a means of getting the nymph to the feeding position of a fish.  It is true that this is important, but it is what happens just after the cast has been made that counts.  It is at this point, and in the subsequent few moments which follow, that a lot of fishermen fail, and many a fish is missed.

 

You should bear in mind the fact that, from the moment a well-made artificial touches the water and sinks, it has attraction and therefore might be taken immediately by a fish in that locality.  So the angler must be watching and ready for action.  Much, though depends on the class of fish one is after and the general habitat, so far nymphing there can never be any hard-and-fast rules.  Anglers have to adapt themselves according to circumstances.  For instance, the technique one adopts when fishing chalk streams and other clear waters where fish are easy to see, might be deemed easy in comparison with places where fish are invisible to the fisherman.  Yet in both, the nymph has a somewhat similar attraction for the quarry.  In one, however, you can actually see the reaction of a fish and the take of the artificial; in the other imagination has to play a big part.

 

Though it is extremely fascinating to be able to see a trout, cast accurately to it, and watch as it takes, all this is very evident.  You are able to judge the exact spot to pitch in the nymph and all the while have the quarry in view.  You can see the moment the fish moves to intercept and indeed the movement of his jaws as he is deceived into taking.  It is then up to you to tighten at the precise moment that the jaws are closed.  If you miss hooking him, you know it is your own fault, or that of a faulty hook.  This is because you have seen what has happened.

 

But fishing blindly as I call it – that is, to fish which are not visible – can be a somewhat different story and, as I have already said, this is where imagination must play a part.  But it is difficult to imagine anything that has not actually been seen.  People who can do this are few and far between.  You might say that inventors have this gift, but it is seldom that inventions turn out in the way they were first conceived.  Maybe it was because most of the nymph fishing I did years ago was in clear water, where I could see all that took place, which gave me a great advantage when the time came to try for those which were invisible to me in the rivers, lakes and reservoirs.  The repeated deception and the watching of all that took place both beneath and above the surface, as I fished for both trout and grayling, became firmly imprinted in my mind.

 

One of the things I learned very quickly when I started nymph fishing, and after watching the efforts of other fishermen, was that to interest a fish it was necessary to get the artificial down to the level of its feeding position, to where, in fact, the fish expected to see such prey.  To do this called for a lot of experimental work, both in the construction of various imitations and in the manner of presenting them.  It was not until I had the idea of using fine copper wire as ballast and for tying in the dressing that this obstacle was successfully surmounted.  Then I found that, to have nymphs which would sink and fish correctly at different levels, a variation in weight was necessary.

 

For a while I persevered with different ballast with the same size hook, this being just a light covering for fishing near the surface and becoming heavier as depth increased.  But I found that the extra weight for deep water fishing ruined the general shape and symmetry of the artificial, and that it no longer conformed to the delicate requirements I needed.  Then I hit on the idea of tying the same pattern on different sized hooks, small for fishing near to the surface, medium for mid-water and large for real depth.  For some reason which I cannot explain, the deeper one fishes, the larger can be the artificial.  Whether fish can see better near the surface than close to the bottom will always be a mystery, but what I did prove was that a pattern quite double the size of its natural counterpart was effective at depths of three feet or more, though it was useless to offer it near the surface.  However, this solved the problem for me. I would carry patterns on the varying sized hooks and fish these as the occasions demanded.

 

To get a nymph to penetrate and sink through the water quickly called for a change in my general style of casting.  Hitherto, most of my fishing had been with the dry fly, when the object was to place line, leader and fly on to the surface as delicately as possible so that the fly would ride well cocked and leader and line would float well.  Though I found that it was just as important for line and leader to be on the surface, I had to work out a way in which the nymph could enter without making too much disturbance.  This was just a matter of checking the smooth flow of the shooting line as it extended horizontally over the water; it had the effect of making the nymph curl downwards, when it would enter the water before the leader and line fell.  I have described this very thoroughly in my books, but I mention it now because such presentation can help considerably in all classes of water.  Today, far more anglers fish still-waters than streams, and I have found that since I started nymph fishing in lakes and reservoirs the practice has served me well.

 

Some people think they stand a much better chance of catching fish if they use more than one nymph on a cast.  With this I cannot agree.  Though I tried it on various occasions just to satisfy myself on this point, I came to the conclusion that there is far more lost than gained.  It is as much as I can do to cast a single nymph properly and then use my rod to make it look lifelike.  And I would think this must apply to all fishermen.

 

In most river fisheries where dry fly and nymph fishing is permitted, the rules are that one fly, or one nymph, must be used, and this usually in an upstream manner.  But in many of the still-water fisheries, small and large, the angler is allowed up to three, sometimes more, on a cast.  In some cases there is no ruling laid down as to what size of hook may be used, or what length of lure.  One is also permitted to use varying types of lines – some designed to float, some for mid-water and others to go very deep to work the flies and lures along the bottom.  Through the years many fish have been caught with these recognised methods of wet fly and lure fishing, and in the future many more will be taken.  For those who are happy to catch fish in this way, all well and good.

 

But I cannot refrain from saying that I think a lot of good sport is wasted, for I have proved many and many a time that, with few exceptions, when fish are really on the feed, they are far more likely to take a small offering than a large one and, if they are alert and looking for food, a single artificial fished well is far better than several fished badly.  When heavy lines and a team of artificials on a leader are used, one can hardly say there is any delicacy in the presentation, indeed it is impossible to use outfits of this kind in the same way as when offering a single.  Again, though it is possible to use a rod to make one nymph fish in a lifelike way, two or more cannot be given the same animation.

 

The success of an artificial nymph underwater depends on several factors.  First, it has to be reasonable copy of a kind of nymph which is seen and taken readily in the natural state.  Second, it must be delivered in such a way that it sinks quickly and does not scare the quarry, and third, and this I think is of the greatest importance, one must be able to transmit movement to it by the use of a rod.

 

For a start, let us examine what is meant by a reasonable copy of nymph seen and taken readily.  With trout, as indeed with all creatures, including the human, certain foods have more appeal to the palate than others, and these appear very regularly on the menu, so to speak.  This is what one might call the staple diet, and traces of it can be found whenever an autopsy is carried out.  For trout, certain classes of nymphs are for more acceptable than others; for one reason, one might assume that their food value is high, and for another, that these types are frequently to be seen where they can easily be intercepted and taken.

 

When you start to talk or write about nymphs in our waterways you enter a very fascinating yet complex subject.  Many fishermen think that the term nymph can cover any artificial dressed in nymphal fashion and fished underwater.  Yet this is far from true.  For some reason which I have yet to understand, the word “nymph” only applies to certain aquatic insects and only to these during the last period of their existence beneath water when, in fact, the wings have become fully developed in their cases and the time for emergence as a winged creature approaches.  So there can be confusion.

 

Why indeed should all the mature under-water insects of the ephemeridae species be called nymphs, yet those of the diptera, for instance, be termed larvae? Further examples can be the odonata and perlidae, (dragonflies and stoneflies) being described as nymphs and yet trichoptera (sedge flies) as larvae.  All transpose from underwater to winged form in much the same way, in so much that each is fully developed in the aquatic state and each casts an integument, or slough when changing to a fly.  As I have said, all this can lead to confusion and it needs far more explanation than I can give here.

 

In all my talks and writings on nymph fishing I have tried to be explicit about the use of the word nymph, keeping it in its proper context as the great G. E. M. Skues and others have done in the past.  Here I repeat what I have written elsewhere: “To get the utmost enjoyment for the technique I employ it is necessary to use artificials which can be cast delicately and accurately with a light rod and line.  Indeed delicacy in the whole outfit is the aim to be pursued and achieved, or much of the joy, and indeed the fascination of nymphing is lost.”

 

I feel very doubtful if nymph fishing would ever have been registered as a sporting method of taking chalkstream trout and Skues advocated the use of the larger types which can be found in the majority of our waters.  Nymphing in lakes and reservoirs had not been practised then – perhaps not even thought about – and there was little data to hand which dealt with the general fauna in them.

 

Skues must have known, as most of us know, that the trout in the chalkstreams and other rivers feed on many different kinds of underwater creatures, both large and small, and he knew the habits of the majority.  Perhaps he made copies of many of the nymphs etc. which he found in autopsies, and trying them, just as I did, but after much trial and error concluding that it was only the swimming group of nymphs which could provide the answer to his requirements.

Today things have changed a lot, and maybe we are not quite so fussy as fishermen were in the days of Halford.  Even so I feel sure that Skues was right when he chose to disregard the large sized nymphs and concentrated on those which could be made so that they looked delicate and attractive, and at the same time be easy to present to a feeding fish.

 

Swimming nymphs, as the name suggests, are creatures which can move freely through the water in much the same way as fish.  Included among them are several different genera, each of which has a number of species which vary in size and in colouration.  Among the better known to fishermen are those of the olives and iron blues, spurwings and pale wateries.

To make copies of all the species in this swimming group one would need at least 20 different tyings, each on the appropriate hook size, but after years of trial and error I came to the conclusion that such a number was quite unnecessary.  Indeed I found that I had wasted a lot of time, a lot of patience and a lot of materials and in the end gained very little.  Also I found that having so many different artificials tended to be confusing.  It was then that I started a process of elimination and reasoning.

 

In the end I reduced the number of my patterns until but two were left.  One to represent the dark types, the other the lighter ones.  These I named after the materials used in the construction.  Neither is an exact copy of any known nymph, merely a blending of materials – simple materials – which could incorporate a little of each of the species and bring about a general effect, when fished in the correct manner.  These I called Pheasant Tail and Grey Goose, the former to represent the olives, iron blues etc, the other for the pale wateries.  Each can be made in the various sizes required.

 

Though there is importance in having the right colouration and size it is the general effect seen by a fish that counts.  As I have written in a previous article, one of the essentials is to construct a nymph pattern so that it can penetrate the surface and sink to the level of a feeding fish.  It was because of this, and because I knew fish would not expect to see the legs of a swimming nymph, that I decided that no hackles or other materials were necessary to suggest legs.  This served two purposes: one to make construction more simple, the second so that there could be no obstruction to quick sinking.

 

The main features which were obvious to me when watching mature nymphs, were the swelled wing cases and the use of the tail for propulsion, coupled with the general stream-lined effect.  On these I based the tying and appearance of my patterns, on the assumption that what I could see must also be seen by a feeding fish.

 

Nothing can really look alive unless it moves, and trout expect to see movement of one kind or another in most of the natural food they take.  If you care to study the currents of a running stream you will see many thousands of varying particles drifting with the water, both in and on it.  Even as you see them, so these are seen by trout.  To you, many of these particles – bits of weed, leaves, sticks and so on – might look very much like a nymph, or some other sub-aqueous creature, but the fish ignore them.  From a very early age, indeed from the time trout fry start to feed, it is the activity which denotes life that they look for.  And if you wish to deceive them, this must be kept well in mind.

 

An artificial nymph, if ballasted correctly, can attract as it sinks.  Trout expect this to happen with naturals and the falling movement is sufficient to arouse interest.  But much greater interest will come when a sinking artificial starts to swim to one side or another, or moves upwards towards the surface.  This natural movement can be imparted with a rod and in later articles I will be dealing with it.

 

Time is never wasted when one studies fish on the feed, and through the years I have spend many hours doing this.  Such studies can be both extremely interesting and educational, proving beyond doubt that fish have an intelligence far greater than many fishermen realise.  Though trout have well-developed senses of smell and indeed touch, these are very secondary to sight.  Without keen eyes, fish would slowly starve.  The instinct to note movement and react accordingly is a natural one bred in them, and it is something which cannot be eliminated by artificial methods of rearing.  In this respect the stew-bred trout, providing they have lost none of their natural eyesight while in captivity, are as quick to react as those which are wild.

 

When trout position themselves in a running stream it is with the main intention of feeding: to intercept and take food carried to them by the water current.  And so, when one is seen poised at any point between the bottom and the surface the odds are greatly in favour of this being a fish which can be interested with imitations of the food he is accustomed to seeing and taking in such a position.

 

Trout can be placed in three classes.  There are those which take up stations close to the bottom, those which position themselves in mid-water and those which can be seen close to the surface.  The first are fish which are interested mostly in what happens on, and near to, the bed, the second which feed on mid-water classes of food, and the third are those whose main interest concerns what is happening in, or on, the surface.  Though all will take a correctly presented artificial, it is the mid-water class which is most likely to become victim of the nymph fisherman.  These are what one might describe as the real nymph takers – interested in anything around, above or below.

 

In his writings, Skues dealt mostly with fish which positioned themselves near to the surface.  He had studied those which were feeding on nymphs nearing the process of eclosion – hatching nymphs, in fact – and his patterns were made to be fished in, and just beneath, the surface.  The absence of any real ballasting incorporated in the dressings confirms this.  To get his nymphs to sink to a depth of a foot or more, where they might attract the mid-water feeding fish, meant that they had first to be thoroughly wetted or anointed with glycerine, spit, mud, or some other agent.  Actually Skue’s method of nymphing was very much on a par with upstream wet-fly fishing, a technique which had been practised for a very long time in many waters about the country.

 

One might say, therefore, that the real art of nymphing has developed considerably during the past half-century and the “Minor Tactics” have become the “Major Tactics” in many of the erstwhile dry-fly waters.  I can’t think that Skues ever dreamt this might happen, and to be quite honest, neither did I, when starting to write about nymphing myself.  The band of nymph fishermen has increased to the stage when I feel very doubtful if there are many who go fishing nowadays without a supply of nymph patterns in their boxes.  All have learned that fish can be caught and that, providing the right tactics are employed, sport with the nymph can equal, and indeed surpass, any that can be had with a dry-fry.

 

Correct tactics have to be employed if there is to be success.  First the approach, then the presentation of the nymph, high, middle or deep, so that it can look lifelike to a fish.  Following on from this is spotting the take, and finally hooking, playing and landing the quarry.

 

As I have said and written many times, a cautious approach and placing of a nymph is of the utmost importance.  A fish, frightened by the sight of you and your rod action, or by the fall of line, leader and nymph will never take confidently and, in the case of a really wild fish, is often scared badly and bolts for cover.  Even if one should stay in position, all repeated attempts at deception are to no avail.  The first cast is the one that counts, that first placing of the artificial and the artistry in making the dead appear alive.

 

Often a well constructed nymph will attract as it sinks and drifts and, providing it is presented so that if falls close to the stationed fish, the fish will take without suspicion.  The falling from suspension coupled with something which, in shape and colour, looks like a nymph, gives the fish good reason for thinking it is indeed an edible creature, like others it has taken in similar circumstances.  Unless a stream or river is in flood, or carrying a very strong flow of water, no heavy particles are carried in suspension, and there is no fallout.  Fish know this and, when seeing something falling towards the bottom, think it is well worth investigating if it bears any resemblance to food. 

 

This kind of presentation can bring results, but a much greater attraction is when the nymph is made to check in its descent and start to move to one side or the other, or upwards, as though swimming.  Then any suspicion, any doubts which are in the mind of the fish are quickly dispelled.  Here, he thinks, is something that really is alive and in a flash there is the urge to take.

 

The art of the nymph fisherman is to be able to create this illusion, and it is well within his power to do it.  But it needs perfect judgment and timing.  Judgment in casting so that the nymph can sink to the level desired and then the timing of the imparted movement so that this can take place just as the offering comes within easy taking and eyesight range of the quarry.

 

The rod movement to impart animation should neither be fast nor jerky, but merely a gathering of all slack with the line control hand, followed by a slow even lift of the rod tip with just sufficient speed to make the nymph swim.  When trout can be seen in the water it is quite easy to judge the correct depth and nymph movement.  And then it is fascinating to watch the reaction of the fish one is trying to deceive.  If you are watching closely it is possible to tell the very moment the artificial is sighted and to be prepared for what follows.

 

Though lots of factors go into the build-up of nymph presentation which are of equal importance, the greatest part of all is in knowing when a fish has taken, and to be able to hook it.  Even though there is faultless delivery and animation of an artificial to achieve deception this, and anything done well previously, is of no avail unless one can tighten at the correct moment so that the hook can take a hold inside the jaws of the fish.

 

When one is fishing a nymph correctly, only an occasional fish will hook itself.  Hooking must be done by the fisherman in much the same way as when using a dry-fly.  The only difference is that the nymph is taken beneath the surface where there is far less to indicate this.  A fish taking a dry-fly riding high on the surface cannot possibly do this without poking his jaws through to the air and at the same time causing a rise form, or ring, as it is sometimes called.  The dry-fly man who is intent on his art will see the artificial taken in the jaws and is wise to pause sufficiently to allow the fish to turn down before lifting his rod to tighten the line and set the hook.  There can never be any hard and fast rule to follow; speed in hooking must depend on the speed a fish takes to turn down.  In this respect, fish rising in fast water are much quicker than those in slow parts; and again small fish are far more active than large ones.  Much the same thing can be said about the take of a nymph.  Takes can be fast; they can also be slow and very deliberate.

 

Tightening, striking, or just plain hooking, as one might well call it, is a matter of reflex action, a co-ordination, or synchronisation, of eyes, brain and hands – a combination of practice and training until the whole thing becomes automatic.  In the past I have compared hooking with rifle and shotgun shooting.  Just as there is that moment to release the firing pin and send the shot or bullet speeding on its way to connect with the target, so the tip of a rod must be moved to tighten line and leader, and move the hook sharply enough to make the point penetrate and hold.

 

Success depends on when, and how, this is done.  A great deal must centre on the kind of tackle one is using.  A slow actioned rod and heavy line cannot possibly react as quickly as a fast actioned type with a light line.  A long rod will pick up line much faster than a short one.  And so it is a case of adapting one’s action accordingly, and there can be no general rule to be observed.

 

It is because I have seen many hundreds of fish take a nymph and then be missed by the fishermen that I make no apology for repeating what I have said and written many times.  You just cannot allow your attention to wander – even for a moment.  Only those who are really concentrating will see most of what does happen, for even the best of nymph fishermen will fail to observe everything.

 

Even after many years of nymph fishing I still miss chances to hook some fish for they are so quick in taking and ejecting I have to confess to being beaten.  But, taking a general average with trout, I can say that I definitely hook, or touch, at least four out of five.  Some come unstuck afterwards it is true, just as they do in all forms of fishing.  This, one must accept and attribute to bad luck, caused, in fact, by the hook hitching into soft tissue and tearing free under stress.

What you must watch for in nymphing is the check, or draw, of the floating leader, and for this it is essential to have a line which floats well and a leader greased for at least half its length.  Without this visual aid one is lost.  You could have a hundred takes with a submerged leader and line and not realise that a fish had been anywhere near to your nymph.  I repeat that in nymphing a take by a fish is rarely registered on the rod.  To put it more plainly, you don’t feel your fish.  The take, like that in coarse fishing, is registered by the movement of the float, the float in this case being the leader just where it enters and sinks beneath the water.

 

Through the years I have explained and demonstrated this to a large number of fishermen.  Often, by not striking, I let pupils see just how quickly a fish can eject an artificial nymph.  Though I have likened the float business to coarse fishing, there is a lot of difference.  Coarse fishermen have the advantage of using natural baits, or edible baits, as one might call them, and fish taking these will hold them in their mouths much longer than anything that is artificial.

 

To give just one instance of what can happen I recount a few hours spent with one would-be nymph fisherman, on a series of small lakes.  Other than to say that these lakes were stocked frequently with big rainbows, they shall be nameless.  It was very obvious to me that a large number of fish had recently been introduced, maybe very early that same morning.

 

These big rainbows were cruising about in small shoals, taking anything which looked like food, or which showed some sign of life, and there was a slight ripple on the water.  I greased line and leader and put on a Killer Bug.  I would like to explain that my pupil had fished these lakes on five different days in the past month and failed to catch a fish, while many of the other fishermen had taken their limit of five.  The reason was soon obvious.  He had done quite a lot of dry-fly and wet-fly fishing and could throw a very fair line.

 

His first cast was a good one and the line and leader had barely settled on the water before I saw the draw down of the point, but my “Yes!” brought no response from my pupil.  He had seen nothing.  Two casts later another fish took.  Again the failure to act.  “Show me,” he said.  I took the rod, told him to watch intently, and made a cast.  As I gathered up the slack and lifted the rod tip, so the greased leader slid beneath the surface.  A flick of the rod and the fish was on.  But it was another wasted effort – he maintained that he had seen nothing.  It was two hours later and after I had counted 20 missed fish, that he finally saw what had been so plain to me.  During this time I had caught another in a futile attempt to show him just what happens, and this left him but three for his limit.  Maybe it was an extra hungry fish which took them, for the cast drew down in no uncertain way and he saw it and acted in a perfect manner.  “Got it,” he said.  “Now I know.”  And he did, for without any further coaching or help from me, he took his last brace without missing a take.