When he was a young boy, my son Matthew spent Saturdays at the fly shop with daddy. He had just turned four when he approached my fly tying bench and asked, "Daddy, what kind of a bug is that you're making?"
He called all flies that we tied bugs, and enjoyed tying his own - with a little assistance when needed from daddy.
We'd fish our bugs on these latesummer and fall evenings. We'd find places where he could fish with little or no wading on the inside corner of a gentle riffle, where he could raise at least a small fish, and where an evening hatch was likely. This time of year we'd see mahog...
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