Flows on the Upper Sacramento almost doubled overnight and Dave Roberts says the Rogue “looks like the Mississippi,” news which just might prove the existence of a vengeful god.

After the recent weeks of craziness, this was the week I actually had time to fish, and while I’m not dead in the water, the possibilities have narrowed considerably.

March has always been a cruel month for the fly fishermen in my neck of the woods; with most of the fly fishing tantalizingly out of reach and the small streams still not open, it’s the month where you can find yourself browsing the Internet for panfish poppers.

You do this because you realize that things kinda suck now, but spring and summer loom at the edge of your peripheral vision to the point you can almost see them, but not if you look directly at them.

Does anything remind you of summer more than panfish popppers?

Does anything remind you of summer more than panfish popppers?

Of course, buying panfish poppers online isn’t exactly a traditional activity, and there are those locals who feel poppers really only work well when you buy them out of the sporting goods aisle at the local Rite-Aid (something about inexpensive lures for blue-collar fish like bluegills and smallies).

In truth, I do subscribe to the local-purchase theory, though not enough to keep me out of the Internet’s panfishy fleshpots. In fact, this morning I stumbled onto breambug.com, and discovered I am a sucker for the down-home, stripped-to-the-bone names and descriptions of their poppers.

Who could resist buying “Purple Cow Bugs” when they’re described in simple, clear, obvious terms like this?

“Have you ever fly fished in farm ponds?  Did you see those big ugly purple bugs flying around the cows?  Here is the Purple Cow Bug to imitate those ugly purple bugs.  Try it, you will like the results.”

Behind this vauge-yet-promising description lurks a photograph of several cows standing in a farm pond while the bug dangles in front of the lens, and while I have yet to see any cattle standing in the Upper Sacramento River or Lake Siskiyou, I immediately wanted a Purple Cow Bug. Maybe several of them.

The Deadly Purple Cow Bug, Expertly Marketed

The Deadly Purple Cow Bug, Expertly Marketed

For that matter, I’d have a hard time choosing from just one of the following: BooglePoppers, Wilson’s Mini Minnies, Ligon Humbug, Gaines Dixie, Miss Prissy (presumably for targeting female fish), Devil Poppers, or the auspiciously named Ligon Bream Killer Fly.

We all know that in fly fishing’s supercharged world of fly tying, new patterns – often derivatives of old bugs – are named to be memorable, or worse, serve as a paen to the ego of the tyer. Pattern descriptions can involve both Latin and lengthy testimonials as to the pattern’s effectiveness.

Contrast that with the Purple Cow Bug’s description:

“Did you see those big ugly purple bugs flying around the cows?  Here is the Purple Cow Bug to imitate those ugly purple bugs”

More to the point, take a gander at the Bream Bee, which has no description.

Presumably, the makers of the Bream Bee think anyone with a lick of sense would know what it’s for and how to fish it, and despite my 23 years as a marketing writer, I can find no hint of hype, manipulation or adspeak in the Purple Cow Bug’s description.

This isn’t one of those “fly fishing’s headed for the crapper” essays; consider it a reminder that humanity does have a tendency to make things more complicated then they have to be, and that fly fishermen might just occupy the far right reaches of the fishing population’s bell curve.

As for me, I still haven’t decided between Sneaky Petes or Carolina Bream Bugs (I’m definitely getting the Purple Cow Bugs), though I might just fold entirely and get “Uncle Don’s Bluegill Special Starter Assortment” which says little, but promises much:

“Let me make recommendations that will help you catch fish.”

See you next summer, Tom Chandler.

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Posted in Underground Entertainment.