Baetisca Spring

The incidents below took place over several years, culminating with the landing of my best ever trout on the Batten Kill in the spring of 2020. I have hesitated to share this story, but on reflection believe it really goes to the core of why, for some of us, the Batten Kill is such a curiously attractive river, for on the 'kill it is often as much about the pursuit as it is the end result. Sometimes, though, the end result is pretty sweet as well! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did in writing it.

Where to begin?  I have been obsessed with the Batten Kill since the day I stepped in the river as a youthful teen on a chilly September day in 1977.  It took me three years to catch my first fish on the river and another three on top of that to catch a “big” fish of about 16 inches.  Since then, I have collected more information and pestered more people to learn as much as I can about the river.  My obsession with the river may be viewed as a bit odd and perhaps a bit over the top but my wife and dog always know where I am if I am not home.  So, there is that. 

Over the course of the years in learning about the river I know a few things: the Hendrickson’s will hatch in great numbers in the spring but it’s never certain that the river flows will cooperate.  The second is that the trico spinner fall that occurs throughout much of the summer is as reliable as the Red Sox finding a way to screw something up, and come fall there will always be at least a few blue winged olives hatching on cool, cloudy days; allowing for just a little more dry fly action before winter settles in.  But one feature of the river that has long escaped me has been finding the mercurial Baetisca mayfly. 

The squat shape of a Baetisca dun is unmistakable.

The Baetisca is the oddest looking of mayflies and little known within the angling fraternity.  But Tom Rosenbauer introduced the world to this fly in the early 2000’s when he wrote an article about the Batten Kill that referred to this fly as a “secret weapon”.  Not too long after this article came out Tom wrote a brilliant essay titled “The Seven Cigar Trout” in Grays Sporting Journal which detailed Tom’s two-week hunt trying to catch one fish, which was finally risen on an imitation of a Baetisca spinner.  Naturally, the fish was lost.  I may be the only person in the world that Tom really got to with that article but since that day I have been fixated with finding and fishing the Baetisca spinner fall.  After a decade and a half my chase finally concluded; but we will get to that in a bit.

The period between then and now brought me close but despite my best efforts I never quite found the Holy Grail.  Not long after the Seven Cigar article came out, I came across my first actual sighting of a dun.  I caught it in the drift and as luck would have it, I was able to relay that information directly to Tom one evening when he drove over the Hill Farm Bridge as I was gearing up.  He won’t remember this chance encounter of course but it is seared into my memory.  I never saw a spinner that spring but mentioned it to a friend who claimed success a few days later.

Another year I recall driving along River Road in West Arlington.  Mayfly spinners were flying back to the river along the dirt road, and I grabbed one as it flew by.  To me it appeared deformed, with half its body cut off.  The wings were far too big for the fat but short body.  At the time I did not put two and two together, but it had to have been one of these flies, which are called Bat flies on the Au Sable in Michigan.  Given the appearance of this fly that is an apt moniker.

Much like the more familiar Isonychia, Baetisca nymphs crawl onto rocks to emerge.

More recently I was poking around the upper Batten Kill one March day looking for young of year brook trout.  I found no such trout but did happen upon a pod of nymphs that were swimming back and forth between a couple rocks.  It was easy enough to grab one with a little aquarium net and sure enough they were immature Baetisca nymphs.  Later in the season I saw their shucks an inch or two above the stream edge rocks; confirming that they do in general hatch a lot like stoneflies by crawling out of the water and emerging from the safety of streamside rocks. 

In that same general location, a year or two later a friend reported a terrific night on the river to a spinner fall of “weird” mayflies.  While he was not all that specific his general description certainly suggested that yes, indeed, he had stumbled across a Baetisca spinner fall.  Somehow this seemed a bit unfair. 

My Baetisca obsession took me in a different direction a handful of years ago.  I was “guiding” a friend at the Spring Hole in New York one morning when trout began absolutely slamming something on the surface.  I mean slamming flies.  I had no answer for what was going on, but we tried with caddis, March Browns, even Isonychia duns.  Then I saw a fly creating quite a ruckus drifting below us.  It’s fluttering created concentric circles around the wings and sure enough a fish hammered it.  My first though was that it was a large waterborne moth until one of the bugs drifted by me.  Sure enough, it was a Baetisca dun.  Mocking me.  The rise was short lived but impressive.  Not many flies were emerging and most climbed up rocks and safely away from hungry trout, but the fish wanted every single one that entered the drift.  I tied a couple imitations, and they have sat in my fly box for two years.  They may wind up in the Museum of Unused Flies for all I know.

And then one day, this past spring, I got a call from my friend Jack.  We are on one a day calls during the height of the season.  The calls follow a pattern – trading playful insults for no useful purpose before getting to the heart of the matter.  How’s the Batten Kill?  And here, finally, my obsession began to pay off.

The next day, a Monday, Jack mentioned getting a good fish – 21 inches – on a rusty spinner.  But he was very clear in saying that the fish were rising early – around 5:30 or so.  This was an initial tip off.  Baetisca spinners fall in late afternoon or very early evening under normal conditions.  Jack had my attention.  The next day another call.  More insults.  And then the description of a pod of huge trout making their way upriver; eating all the way.  And yes, those odd-looking flies were on the water.  And a fish was indeed hooked.  Jack described a bonefish like run before the fish came off.  That settled it.  I would be up the next day to see if obsession and fate would finally meet. 

I cut out of work early and the drive to the river was fine.  Comfortable temperatures, no wind, and a perfect mid-spring evening in store.  But as I passed over the Green Mountains and into the river valley the promising day became windy and then humid.  Uncomfortably so.  It didn’t feel even close to right, and I was half tempted to drive home right then and there.  Until Jack told me to stay.  He had beer (turns out he didn’t) and I could complain to him about the forecasters getting it wrong again over a cold one.

To shorten what has already become a long story we made our way down river and saw a half-hearted rise or two.  It was well past the “normal” spinner fall time of 5:30 to 7 and it didn’t look great.  But I walked downstream of Jack around a bend and decided to see what would happen.  And then I saw a bug.  There was nothing rising and, well, I like bugs, so I slid down the bank and into the water to grab it.  I never got the fly because I managed to go over the tops of my waders.  The chilling effect on this clammy evening was surprisingly refreshing and I just chuckled.  I got out of the water and trudged back upriver.  At least I was cool again.

The chunky, large winged spinner is what anglers are looking for when chasing Baetisca spinnerfalls. They seem to appear out of thin air.

And then it happened.  While Jack stood along the riverbank, I looked upriver and saw a rise.  Then another.  And a third.  There was a veritable pack of trout just chowing flies.  This happens on the Delaware, the Farmington, the Au Sable … but the Batten Kill?  I’ve fished this river for too many years to admit and other than the Hendrickson spinner fall this simply does not happen.  And even then, only rarely.  But here I was watching a pack of fish that collectively weighed probably 25 – 30 lbs. sucking down mayfly spinners; Baetisca to be specific. 

Jack kindly ceded the prime water, and I managed to move a fish on cast number one.  I hooked and then lost a big fish on cast number three.  Bad knot.  And then the pack moved up stream perhaps 10 feet and set up in a seam in mid-channel.  I was getting buck fever at this point and managed to get a nice tangle in my leader.  I did as Jack suggested and got above the fish.  The cast would be a little tricky for a lefty, but backhanded casting is a skill one acquires on the ‘kill so no big deal.

Instead of untangling my leader Jack handed me his rod and tied on a fresh spinner.  I can be fairly certain that I was the only person on the river with multiple spinner patterns specific to the Baetisca so I had a fresh one ready to go.  And I am equally certain that I was thrilled that Jack tied the fly on, if the knot was going to slip let it be his fault. 

The next 15 or so minutes are just a blur now.  The cast to the lead fish was straight forward, the currents uncomplicated.  It took just one drift, and the fish tipped up and took like it had so many naturals before.  The hookset was instinctive.  The fight was a close quarter battle with the trout making several firm but relatively short runs.  But this fish had weight.  And it took real work to get her into a position to get into the net.  I readily accepted Jack's offer, and he came out to help. 

I tried to lead the fish to the net once or twice but as with many big fish, this one was definitely net wary.  Whenever we tried to bag what was clearly a large fish there was another run.  I slowly led the fish towards the bank and closer to shallow water before Jack finally slipped the net under her.  We knew this was a big fish but frankly I was too stunned to think much on it, but Jack actually taped the fish, and it came to 25” on the nose; a brown that would likely weigh around 6 lbs!  At that moment fate and obsession had finally met.

The big fish memorialized in wood is a happy reminder of a long sought goal finally realized.

One can never be too cocky; however, because when I returned to the scene of the act the following week the Baetisca had faded to just a few bugs.  Fish were rising, however, and I managed two beautiful brook trout and short line released a lower teen brown before the fish gods paid me back.  In the process of unwrapping the leader from a brook trout whose tail I had somehow managed to lasso, the hook of my Baetisca was driven deeply into my thumb as the fish flipped away. The removal of the hook is a story for another day but let’s just say I will be using barbless hooks forever more!

The trout always seem to find a way to win on the Batten Kill!