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Olives . . .

By Steven J. Meyers

With winter settling in, and rumors of heavy snow flying, if not any actual snow just yet (as I write this, talk of El Ni�o fills the air in anticipation of piles of the white stuff), my fantasies turn to olives. As in bluewinged. As in mayflies. As in Baetis.

A brief entomological digression:

ADULT DIAGNOSIS: (Fig. 7.15; Plate I; Figs. 2-4) Eyes of the male have a unique turbinate portion. Veins IMA, MA2, IMP and MP2 of the forewing are attached basally . . . and that just gets you down to the Family level (Baetidae). If you want to determine the genus (five are important to fly fishermen: Baetis, Callibaetis, Centroptium, Cloeon and Pseudocloeon) it gets more difficult, and if you want to figure out the species, good luck!

Now, back to our story:

A few winters ago, I was guiding a new client on the Animas. Beautiful gray-olive mayflies with smoky-gray wings were lifting off the water. Trout sipped some before they could fly. My client asked me what the fish were eating. "Olives," I answered. What's that? "It's a mayfly, a family of mayflies actually, a family that includes a few genera that are important to fisherman, and several species that are commonly lumped together and called blue-winged olives. Olives for short." What species is it that the fish are eating? "I don't know."

Through the haze of a river-warmed fog and snow-filled air the dim outline of a fisherman appeared across the river. His confident voice floated to us through the mist, clear as crystal. "Flavens, Steve, they're Baetis flavens."

I could see my client looking at me with utter disappointment. Here he was paying some god-awful sum of money to a supposedly professional fishing guide, and he had to rely on an unknown amateur across the river to tell him what the hell was going on. Not only that, his guide had uttered the only words forbidden to guides, "I don't know." I could see the disappointment in his eyes, and I was almost ready to offer him a refund when common sense intervened. What the hell are you thinking, Steve! You have hungry bird dogs at home to feed! You can't be giving refunds!

Truth is, it was all a bit complicated to explain so I let it drop and we fished out the afternoon, my client probably wondering for the rest of the day why he had to get the dumb guide who was entomologically challenged.

The mayflies that were on the water that day were easy enough to identify as blue-winged olives. And they were, most likely, from the genus Baetis. In order to confirm that, a cautious aquatic entomologist would likely have taken a specimen into the lab and looked at it through a binocular microscope. He would have examined that peculiar turbinate eye. He would have mapped the unique vein structure of the wings. He would have confirmed these and a number of other attributes before pronouncing the specimen a member of the Family Baetidae. In order to comfortably assign a genus and species, the examination would have become significantly more detailed - and difficult. Only fly fishermen make such pronouncements with supreme confidence, on the water, without magnification, in the middle of a snowstorm!

(I miss the days when we fishermen respected the awesome abyss that is the scope of our own unknowable ignorance, the days when we stopped at olives, or small olive mayflies.)

Anyway, here's a suggestion:

The next time you're out on the river and a gentle snow begins to fall, oh, around mid-afternoon, watch carefully for dimpling trout. If you see them - in the eddies, in the long calm glides, in the slow water against the bank, in the seams between fast and slow water - look closer. Look for insects. If it's mid-winter, and it's around here, take one home in a specimen jar, put it under a microscope and count the tails, examine the veins in the wing, take a good, hard look at the eye. I wouldn't want to bet the farm, but I'd bet you a buck or two that bug would check out as a mayfly of the family Baetidae, and possibly even the genus Baetis.

I'll wave to you as you drive back to your lab. Me? I'm going to stay on the river, pull a fly out of my box with a gray or olive body about the same size as the bug on the water, one with an upright wing - probably a parachute Adams to start with - and toss it over the rising trout. I wouldn't bet the farm on this either, but I'd bet you a buck or two I hook a few trout with it. If trout take it every now and then but a few refuse it, I might tie on an olive sparkle dun, instead.

And if you are ever near me, fishing with a buddy and your buddy asks you what they're taking, tell him, "Olives."

If I hear you say Baetis flavens, I'm going to throw a rock in your water.

Steven J. Meyers has called the San Juans home since 1976. He has been Visiting Instructor of Creative Writing at Fort Lewis College since 2000. His published books include On Seeing Nature, Lime Creek Odyssey, Streamside Reflections, The Nature of Flyfishing, Notes from the San Juans, and San Juan River Chronicle.