The Nameless Bucktail
In the serene mornings of the 1960s, the DeBruce Fly Fishing Club buzzed with the quiet excitement of anglers casting lines into the Willowemoc's sparkling waters. Among these skilled fishermen was a man whose reputation as an exceptional angler was as well-known as his secretive nature regarding his choice of flies. This man, shrouded in mystery, could coax even the most stubborn trout up from the depths, but he never revealed his secret weapon—until one fateful summer morning.
The story unfolds on a typical summer day, the kind that invites anglers to rise with the sun and wade into the cool, flowing waters. This morning, like many others, our enigmatic angler had partnered with a fellow club member. As the morning progressed, the bite eventually slowed, and the anglers made their way back to the clubhouse, their lines trailing through the water one last time.
Back at the clubhouse, the aroma of breakfast mingled with the scent of fresh river air. The anglers gathered, sharing tales of their morning’s adventures. Our secretive fisherman’s partner was soon asked about their success. With a satisfied grin, he casually mentioned that they had landed over 20 fish that morning. Curiosity piqued, the group inquired about the fly that had worked such magic.
“The fly we always use,” replied the partner with a knowing smile, echoing the cryptic tradition of the club.
What made this day extraordinary was a simple oversight by the angler—he had left his rod in the rack, still-strung. For the first time, the elusive secret fly was in plain sight. Whispers spread through the clubhouse as members cautiously approached the rod, their eyes widening at the revelation before them.
The fly, long the subject of speculation and legend, was finally visible to all. It was a bucktail with a wool body, distinguished by a vibrant red tail and a palmered coachman brown hackle. Its black bear wing lay flat along its back, the butts of the bear hair tied down and trimmed flush with the eye, creating a streamlined, natural appearance. Roughly dressed on a 6XL hook, size 6 or 8, the fly was an imposing yet elegant lure, reminiscent of the stick-bait caddis that blanketed the bottom of the Willowemoc in spring.
The fly’s design was simple yet ingenious. The wool body provided a lifelike texture, while the red tail added a striking contrast, likely mimicking the appearance of natural prey. The black bear wing, when wet, would lie flat, enhancing its resemblance to the native insects of the region. This fly, crafted with care and precision, was a testament to the angler’s deep understanding of the fish and their environment.
Though the secret was out, the man’s legacy grew even stronger. The sighting of the fly only added to his legend, turning him into a mythical figure within the club. The fly itself, remained nameless and became a symbol of ingenuity and tradition, passed down through the generations of anglers who followed.
The tale of the nameless bucktail reminds us that in fly fishing, as in life, the magic often lies in the details and the stories we share. The man’s secret, once closely guarded, now lives on in the hands of those who continue to fish the storied waters of the Willowemoc, each cast a tribute to the mystery and mastery of the angler who created it.