I know some people have a far larger fly collection than I do. I also know that I cannot possibly use all the flies I have. Why do I keep tying and buying them? Its craziness. A sickness. Insanity. I just sit down and tie a few flies in the evenings. Innocent right? No real purpose for the flies. One of this color, a few of that color, maybe a size 12. My sick mind says "Hey why not tie a few of those with grizzly hackle?" The reality is that having all of these flies and fly boxes does not help me catch fish. It just plain doesn't. I came to this conclusion as I was spending 2 hours reorganizing my boxes. I have a trout box, a small streamer box, medium streamer box, dry fly box, hopper box, clouser box, carp box, big bass fly box, an egg box and a salt water box. Oh and then there is my big streamer Plano "boat" box with hair and bucktail sticking out all over the place and a junk drawer filled with loose flies. I was trying to organize my flies so that I could just say "Ok, I want to fish for trout, I will take this box." Instead I have 3 or 4 boxes that I might potentially "need" while messing around on some tailwater. What is really sick is that I see that empty space in my small streamer box and I want to fill it up! Some insanity drives me to fill the empty space! Its a sickness I tell you. Many of these flies have never been in the water. Many will probably never go in the water.
I am just 25 years old at this point. If I continue on this track, when I am 50 I will either have succumb to some terrible fishing accident or I will have amassed such a store of fly fishing junk that my house will look like an episode of "Hoarders." Some fruity guy and a psychologist will be rooting through Drake magazines and old rod cases and find a dead cat with its eyes all bulged out. I will be throwing a tantrum on the front lawn because the man threw out my favorite box of bonefish flies. Of course, when the psychologist asks if I have ever even fished for bonefish I will say "No... but I might." My family will be trying to calm me down or complaining about the stench of old squirrel tails and head cement while I wildly stalk around trying to find my favorite Sage hat from thirty years ago- you know, the one with all the fish mojo. All this speculation is freaking me out... I need to go fishing. But man that clouser box has still some room in it...
I know some people have a far larger fly collection than I do. I also know that I cannot possibly use all the flies I have. Why do I keep tying and buying them? Its craziness. A sickness. Insanity. I just sit down and tie a few flies in the evenings. Innocent right? No real purpose for the flies. One of this color, a few of that color, maybe a size 12. My sick mind says "Hey why not tie a few of those with grizzly hackle?" The reality is that having all of these flies and fly boxes does not help me catch fish. It just plain doesn't. I came to this conclusion as I was spending 2 hours reorganizing my boxes. I have a trout box, a small streamer box, medium streamer box, dry fly box, hopper box, clouser box, carp box, big bass fly box, an egg box and a salt water box. Oh and then there is my big streamer Plano "boat" box with hair and bucktail sticking out all over the place and a junk drawer filled with loose flies. I was trying to organize my flies so that I could just say "Ok, I want to fish for trout, I will take this box." Instead I have 3 or 4 boxes that I might potentially "need" while messing around on some tailwater. What is really sick is that I see that empty space in my small streamer box and I want to fill it up! Some insanity drives me to fill the empty space! Its a sickness I tell you. Many of these flies have never been in the water. Many will probably never go in the water. 
I am just 25 years old at this point. If I continue on this track, when I am 50 I will either have succumb to some terrible fishing accident or I will have amassed such a store of fly fishing junk that my house will look like an episode of "Hoarders." Some fruity guy and a psychologist will be rooting through Drake magazines and old rod cases and find a dead cat with its eyes all bulged out. I will be throwing a tantrum on the front lawn because the man threw out my favorite box of bonefish flies. Of course, when the psychologist asks if I have ever even fished for bonefish I will say "No... but I might." My family will be trying to calm me down or complaining about the stench of old squirrel tails and head cement while I wildly stalk around trying to find my favorite Sage hat from thirty years ago- you know, the one with all the fish mojo. All this speculation is freaking me out... I need to go fishing. But man that clouser box has still some room in it...
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