Fun With Fly Names
July 9, 1999
As I sit here tying flies for an upcoming Alaska trip, I’m finding that naming your creation is almost as fun as catching something on it. Flip through a book of fly patterns and you’ll see what I mean. There seems to be several schools of thought when it comes to naming a dressing that you just whipped up. First of all, you have the “I want to be famous so anglers the world over know my name and tackle companies will bestow great gifts upon me” tier. They’ve turned out patters such as Cameron’s Keel Bug and Rick’s Revenge and Shewey’s Shad Shafter. I like a fly called Chuck’s Lime Deceiver, and though I’ve never had the opportunity to fish for fruit before, I’m sure it works well. When choosing a name for a fly, some tiers even get a little autobiographical…patters like Dr. Spratley, Professor, Jailbait, Orleans Barber, Purple Joe, Surgeon General and Mormon Girl come to mind.
If you don’t feel like putting your name on a fly (maybe you’re not even sure that you could catch the back of your ear with the thing), you can always name it after your favorite time of day to fish. Skykomish Sunrise, Stilliguamish Sunset, Midnight Canyon, etc. Of course, if I did a lot of fishing in the middle of the night, I probably wouldn’t alert anybody to the fact, particularly the local fish and game authorities. You might be better off naming a fly after the water where it works best. I’m sure flies like the Bristol Bay Matuka, Alsea Special, Thompson River Caddis and Box Canyon Stone all have some serious history behind them. Sometime, I may have to tie up the Auburn Ravine E. Coli Catcher.
Violence in fly names is running unchecked these days, and if elected, I pledge to turn every Kilchis Killer into a Kilchis Caresser, each Tidewater Terror into a Tidewater Touchy-Feelie, every Siuslaw Slayer into a Siuslaw Sweetie, every Bloody Butcher into a Bloody Mary, and, if you vote for me, I promise I will change every fly like the Mr. Hatchet to a kinder, more gentle name like Mr. Hopscotch or Mr. Happiness or Mr. Hop-a-Long. Yes, fly name violence is corrupting the youth of America and it needs to be stopped!
Amazingly artistic with thread and feathers, some fly tiers fall short on creativity when it comes to naming their work. They often describe themselves as “utilitarian” (read: “boring”) and their fly names attest to this fact. However, boring can also be functional and some of these flies fit the bill. The guy who designed the Irresistible wasn’t messing around with fancy names. Straight to the point, you gotta like that, however unexciting. A trout fly with a big hump on its back…yep, the Humpy of course. The Silver Minnow is another difficult-to-understand name. How about the fly that’s supposed to resemble chunks of rotting salmon flesh? Cleverly named the Flesh Fly! What do you think the tier who first came up with the Imitation Shrimp was thinking? There’s also a big bucktail streamer designed for monster lake trout and lingcod that’s mysteriously labeled the Big Fish Fly (where do these guys come up with these names?). Protein is also pretty straightforward, as is the Meat Getter, a popular Caddis imitation in Idaho (hey, that’s not a bad name, either).
And so it goes. I’m still sitting here, thinking of names for my own flies. A couple big, fluffy pink and purple marabou jobs with silver tinsel kinda remind me of George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars, while I may get really fancy and call the ones that imitate salmon eggs, well, Salmon Eggs. Or maybe a fly shouldn’t be branded until it’s seen some active duty. Hopefully, after Alaska, I’ll have a few called the Monster Masher or the Giant Killer or the I’m sure glad this fly worked so well, because fresh salmon on the BBQ can’t be beat fly.
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