Mix a playful collie dog with an angler or two and some river flies and this is what you get - or perhaps not quite!
Ah yes, the idyllic angling scene above gives a tranquillity and joy to many a fisherman but what led up to this seemingly quiet situation?
The river's aquatic residents are not the only creatures that can be attracted to a dry fly, as the following strange but true tale will tell.
On one lovely stretch of the Hodder an angler is likely to encounter the farmer’s sheepdogs, which at first sight seem, let’s say, rather savage. It is however a case of their bark being worse than their bite as they snap and grown incessantly whilst keeping a safe distance when one gets out of the car to set up gear.
One exception however is young Max who is a beautiful, friendly little collie with only one thing in mind – to have lots of fun.
My son Kyle and I noticed that unlike the other noisy sheepdogs Max promptly made friends with us and followed us down the field to the beck. He apparently had no intention at all of letting us get to the river bank alone. Across ditch and style, over steep hillside and muddy meadow Max had a great longing for company and just would ‘not’ go back home.
All was well with the world until we started to cast patterns at some decent looking risers in a steady flow.
Max apparently took the first cast as a clandestine signal to slowly wade into the stream. He obviously thought that the dry fly I was floating over a good fish to be something that he must fetch ‘back’ to me so without hesitation he leapt into the stream and started to thrash his legs up river like a big hairy salmon.
Dogfish or just a playful river fiend?
A lovely fish was eagerly rising some ten yards out and I continued to cast to it yet Max was getting extremely frustrated because he couldn’t reach my fly dressing. Without further ado he traversed a fast flow and stood proudly on a semi-submerged mid-stream rock then proceeded to snap his teeth and bark wildly at my fly, which was drifting only a few feet past his position.
Superdog in action
I was also getting more than a little perturbed at Max’s well-meant yet anti-angling antics. “Oh bugger no – get the hell out of there” I shouted to the manic hound as he continued to splash at my fly from his precarious rocky outpost on every new cast. Kyle was in fits of laughter at all the fuss and even managed to take a few pictures of this wacky event, yet I was eager to cover the fish which was still incredibly gulping down lazy duns close to the boulder.
Max doing his walking on water impression whilst awaiting a chance to retrieve my dry fly. The stream between the dog and photographer is actually around five to six feet deep
My olive flicked deftly out again across the stream and this time enough was enough for Max was so keen to grab it that he threw himself back into the depths with a loud crash to retrieve it. The pool was now completely ruined and devoid of risers. I knew that I was beaten on this occasion and with Kyle still chuckling away I plonked my rod down and proceeded to hastily chase Max out of the water and away up the surrounding hillside.
The unfortunate dog was obviously baffled at my latest threatening actions and wanted to stay yet I had seen more than enough and made it plain to him that his boisterous presence was no longer required. I almost felt guilty later on when I thought of Max’s earlier enjoyment however we had come to catch fish not provide entertainment for a local collie. Nonetheless, Max was not one to hold grudges and came back to us for a friendly stroke at the car park in the farmyard. Hopefully, he had learnt a valuable lesson via my chastisement that anglers do ‘not’ need their flies retrieving, yet time will tell on this one.
Excellent quality grayling like this one as well as trout fed heavily on the Hodder that afternoon after Max finally left the scene
Happily, the trout and grayling of the stream did soon recover following Max’s unceremonious departure. We managed to catch plenty of Silver ladies as heavy as one and a half pounds and browns to one pound on tiny patterns.
Kyle displaying a small but fit Hodder grayling taken on dry fly
The ephemeral Mayflies came down in delicate pairs, as did the Medium olives and attractive but largely ignored Yellow may duns. Sport when it occurred was brisk and exciting yet most of out fish came to tiny patterns imitating the smaller duns and spinners that fell later in the day. Order was restored once again to the tranquil little stream.
Hodder browns are second to none and fight all the way to the net
Click on the River Hodder Mayfly above for a full sized image of this lovely insect taken by Kyle Regan