If there’s one thing I took away from a fly-tying class that the Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife hosted at the Greenfield Public Library, it’s that your flies don’t need to look pretty to catch a fish.
This workshop was designed to be a beginner-friendly course, giving participants an opportunity to pursue this craft if they want to. As an absolute beginner in the realm of fly fishing, I found this advice to be a point of comfort in taking on this free, four-hour workshop.
I’ve been catch-and-release fishing many times in life, and I was introduced to the passtime by my grandfather when I was young. We’d fish together at Mendon Ponds Park in western New York. I remember those trips with him and my grandmother fondly. He was also an avid fly fisherman, fishing around New York State for many years with my father and uncle. However, this wasn’t a fishing style that I learned.
Since his passing in 2022, I’ve found myself missing not just the things we did together, but the experiences we’ll now never get to share. When I saw the advertisement for this class, it felt like a chance to learn a skill in a sport I’ve always appreciated while exploring a craft my grandfather never had the chance to teach me. I’d like to think he was there in the empty chair beside me, guiding my hands along the way.
I came in with an open mind and determination that if, by the end of this class, I came away with flies that even slightly resemble the example ties, and it could lure at least one fish on a future trip, I’d be fulfilled.
I’m about halfway there. I still need to catch a fish.
To tie, or not to tie?
This workshop is one of several MassWildlife hosts across the state from January to March, with fishing excursions following in the summer, including one at Barton Cove in June. The five instructors provided a wealth of tools and materials for the six participants — including me — to turn into two wet flies: a Woolly Bugger and a Mickey Finn. Flies are designed to mimic aquatic insects and can be “dry flies” that sit on the water’s surface or “wet flies” that sink, like the patterns we tied. As the informational packet explains, these flies are ‘what you think the fish might want for dinner.'”
Fly fishing is named for the lures used, which are handcrafted imitations of insects or other prey. While tying your own flies is a unique skill, it isn’t a necessity for success; most anglers simply buy them. Jim Lagacy, coordinator of the Angler Education Program with MassWildlife, is a prime example. He admitted he isn’t particularly skilled at tying, yet he has fished for more than three decades.
On the other hand, hobbyists like Don Vacon of the Western Massachusetts Fly Fishermen club find the craft therapeutic, tying up to a dozen flies daily. To each their own — and their wallets — as a starter kit can run $125 to $150. Lagacy urged caution before jumping in headfirst, but thankfully, this workshop provided all the materials to give us a peek into the craft without the start-up expense.
The Process
To help contextualize the process, the Woolly Bugger and Mickey Finn were described as “recipes,” each with a list of “ingredients” required for the build. As with any recipe, the chef (or in this case, the fly tyer) is at liberty to make alterations with different colored threads and feathers. The Woolly Bugger we tied was black and white — using black thread, black turkey feathers and white chicken feathers — while the Mickey Finn used dyed buck hair to mimic a vibrant minnow. Notably, Lagacy warned that we might soon look at roadkill in a new light given the versatility of animal fur and feathers. I’ll skip that particular method of sourcing for now.
The equipment provided was a blend of specialized items, the most vital being the vise that holds the hook in place. One of the more unique tools, a whip finisher, looks like a misshapen paper clip and is used to knot the thread at the end.
Surprisingly, the body of an empty ballpoint pen turned out to be one of the most practical items for securing thread to the hook.
After watching the demonstrations and feeling confident that I could pick up on the process, I quickly learned why handmade flies may not be everyone’s cup of tea. It takes a steady hand, good memorization and plenty of patience. For the start-up cost of equipment and the time spent to create the flies, it makes sense that store-bought flies are the way to go for folks.
For me, the most difficult part was mastering the basics of securing the thread and the materials to the hook. There are different techniques to secure the threads and materials to the hook, like the Jamb Knot for securing the thread on the hook initially, the pinch wrap for making sure the materials are attached and the whip finish to complete the fly. These details, on top of adjusting for any mistakes without starting over, felt daunting for both the Woolly Bugger and Mickey Finn.
As someone who enjoys to sew and make jewelry, it seemed like the pieces would fall into place, but having a few minutes of one-on-one instruction made all the difference for me. After instructor Michael Zlogar helped walk me through the steps once more, it felt like I could probably tie a few more Woolly Buggers before the end of the night.
Moving on to the Mickey Finn, this fly felt easier now that some of the basics were established. Although this fly required more threading from the start with a regular black thread, followed by adding an oval-shaped tinsel, then a flat tinsel to create a sparkling effect before the buckhair was attached, having the basic technique — and a new sense of confidence — made it feel far more manageable.
Reflection
At the end of the session, in front of me was a collection of stray feathers, hair, thread and tools that came together to create two flies that mildly resembled the masterful ties Vacon brought to show the class, and the Mickey Finn he tied for the demonstration. With the goal in mind to have two ties that matched the examples, I’d say I met a large part of my objective and had fun doing it — even if the flies weren’t the prettiest in the world.
While tying your own flies isn’t a necessity to modern fly fishing, the sense of pride behind creating your own gear — a process both challenging and time-consuming — was clear to me. Additionally, the support from the instructors, whose passion for the craft was evident, was invaluable.
Although a YouTube tutorial is a good source, having a guide to speak to directly and connect with is part of the experience in learning that I’ve always valued. Although my grandfather, who guided me in learning to fish and instilling the lifelong interest, wasn’t able to pass his knowledge down to me now, I’m grateful there still existed an opportunity to learn from those who shared his passion for a day out on the water.
Still, one question remains: can my flies catch a fish? I’ll have to find out.
