 ARACHNOPHILIA — Another take on spider flies — by Peter Brigg
HAVE I told you about my latest passion? If I didn’t and you suffer from arachnophobia, I accept no responsibility for any adverse reaction to what follows.
Anatomically, they are fused into two sections — the cephalothorax and the abdomen — which are joined by a small, cylindrical pedicel. They are air-breathing but, unlike other arthropods, they do not have antennae and have no muscles in their eight legs which are operated instead by hydraulic pressure. Pretty neat, but that is one aspect you won’t need to imitate!
They rank seventh in total species diversity among all other groups of organisms and are found worldwide, except for Antarctica. They have become established in nearly every ecological niche around the globe, with the exception of air and sea.
You guessed it, I’m talking spiders. Fortunately, I’m not arachnophobic, and neither do the fish seem to be. I have in the past waxed lyrical about the virtues of Leonard Flemming’s exceptional and truly indigenous fly, the Wolf Spider, and I haven’t changed my mind on it. However, it also got me thinking about creating a spider of my own — and this is one insect that doesn’t take a lot to imitate.
Very simply, you need a couple of blobs and eight legs or thereabouts, because I suspect the fish generally don’t concern themselves too much with counting. I have also found that they are not particularly fussy about size and length of the appendages. In fact, it seems that the bigger and longer the legs, the more attractive they are to our finned friends. They certainly don’t worry about the particular species of spider, so I’m pretty sure the Latin name is of no concern — a good thing because I’m a philistine when it comes to that level of scientific knowledge.
What I wanted was a fly that would float reasonably well, low on the surface, have a distinctive profile and be recognisable through familiarity as something that exists in that environment, and had been eaten and enjoyed before. In fact, one that could be fished just below the surface as a drowned insect would also be fine, but it would be a little more difficult to follow in the drift.
My first attempts were a bit messy. Well, probably more than a little messy. Even so, they did account for a few fish that looked like they had swallowed a kitchen mop with all manner of bushy materials protruding from their mouths. The flies also quickly lost their shape, and as this is such an important element of the design. So it was back to the drawing board to modify the tie to get closer to what I expected from the end result.
Read the full story in the February 2010 issue of FLYFISHING. |
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