It might as well be spring – almost

Remember that old Rodgers and Hammerstein tune? It Might As Well Be Spring, from the musical Oklahoma? It feels like spring should be here but hasn't arrived yet. It might as well be, and should be, but isn't yet spring. I remember Februarys in years past when Jan and I would take long walks on the banks of the river. Winter eased up to the point where it felt good to get out. Taking a fly rod on those walks would come next. The past few days have been sunny enough. But instead of rising trout, there is snowmelt and a river full of chilly water. For this angler, spring will be a little late this year. Hmm... another song title; the rich and sultry voice of Sarah Vaughn caressing the lyrics of a '40's musical number that became a jazz ballad and torch song. That's a good song to stay indoors with – and I'm doing a lot of that these days, waiting for the days to warm up just a bit more, coax me out of my comfortable rut and back outdoors. Until then there's plenty to do that will scratch the itch... sorta.

The low level snow comes and goes and the creeks drain some of the melt toward the rivers. For now all of our rivers are chilly. Blackfoot, Clark Fork, Rock Creek, Bitterroot, you name it – they're getting close to being genuinely fishable for all but the diehards but still telling us, not yet.

Bugs don't hatch in these conditions. The skwala stonefly nymphs that stage just below the waterline will be looking at a longer trudge to reach shore as the rivers play their Catch-22 game of rising and getting chillier as the warming days bring inevitable snowmelt to chill the water.

Here's a hint: Buy a stream thermometer and use it. The mayfly hatches will start to come off in earnest at about fifty degrees. Until then there will be some stoneflies that make it out of the water at about 45 to 48 degrees, and wait until the sunwarmed rocks where they're hiding reach the point where they decide to crawl out of their shucks and hatch. The midges and tiny black stoneflies are already out. Finding them is an iffy proposition; you gear up for them, you might need them when least expected.

When things have leveled off for a couple of days, fishing a skwala nymph as part of a double nymph rig could be productive. You can fish a skwala nymph in combination with a small food-form nymph. Rig up and fish slowly, cautiously, carefully. The trout won't move very far to take food with abandon until the water warms up. What if you're waiting indoors for those inviting warmer days to arrive? For me, it's time for the annual spring tackle ritual.

A quick look through my vest a couple of weeks ago was nearly embarrassing. The pockets are loaded with junk I picked up at streamside, other people's snack wrappers and cigarette butts, remnants of my own petrified trail mix, stale peanuts, and leader snippets. Time to throw out, clean up, and restock. I'll check the tippet spools first and make notes as to which leaders and fresh spools of tippet I need. Next, I check the levels of my floatant bottles – I don't want to start the season by getting caught short. Fly boxes get checked for contents – for me, that chore turns into a pleasant afternoon. The flies trigger remembrances that cause me to linger and daydream. When I snap back to reality, I make note of what I'm missing, and make a vow to get busy behind the vise. Reels get cleaned and lubed, fly lines get pulled off the reels into a plastic bucket, and then rewound on the reels through a cloth drenched in 303 – the same stuff guides use on their rafts and RVer's use on their tires and awnings. Rods get taken out of their cases, joined, and waved around – with each one it's a little like shaking hands with an old friend. New sunglasses are on the list. New hat, maybe. When the river's in better shape, I'll be ready. Until then, there's the fly tying bench to share in the company of new and old friends.

Not a bad way to spend a fisherman's spring. (Isn't that a book title?)