Finding Brood II

When I arrived stream side for my first time fishing magicicadas, I could hear them in the trees. The noise was unmistakable and resonated from a hill covered in pines. The sci-fi sound came and went hourly throughout the day. Interestingly enough, the hill was the only section in the area where the sound was coming from. It was also where cicadas could be found in bushes, leaves, and littering the ground. Occasionally, you could even find a live cicada struggling as it floated downstream. Elsewhere,  you wouldn't even know that there were cicadas in the area. A half-mile downstream, I found another grouping of cicadas at the base of the mountain. In between those two areas is where I decided to concentrate my fishing efforts.

After my first cast into the stream, I knew I was in for a good day of fly fishing. A 17 inch wild brown gently sipped my size 6 cicada and the battle was on. As the day progressed, I had vicious attacks on my dry fly in every single good looking lie. On several occasions, fish would miss on their 1st, 2nd, and sometimes 3rd attempts before wising up to the folly at the end of my line. It was phenomenal fishing, and I was clearly the first person to toss a cicada on the stream. My brother finally got his act together and met me on the stream to catch a few beautiful browns of his own. Thunderstorms finally drove us off the water, but not before we were both satisfied with the action. We found out later that we weren't alone. Other anglers had keyed in on the insects as well and found success upstream of us.

When I fished the cicadas for the first time, I couldn't help but think about western hopper fishing. In Pennsylvania, terrestrial fishing can be good, but it never approaches the level of intensity of a western stream where trout hammer large hoppers along grassy banks every summer. It was nice to be able to experience something similar on my home waters and have some good sized wild browns willing to play in the middle of the day. Normally, summer days on streams like this are mostly hatch-less and the big trout don't show themselves too often. It was great to be able to experience it first hand.

Subsequent outings proved to be much less successful. Although eager to devour our large dry flies one day, future trips produced slow outings with the occasional nice fish. Waters nearby provided some action but everything failed to live up to that one afternoon. Myself and a few other anglers just timed it right and reaped the rewards. As the days went by, I began looking for other waters that held cicadas so I could replicate that experience of being the first to cast a cicada dry fly into a body of water.

Targeting areas of shade and structure proved to be highly effective...

Good male brown...

Fish also struck at the end of the drift as the cicada swung in the current...

Popping was effective too...

Magicicadas

Upon first hearing that the periodical magicicadas would be emerging en masse upon the eastern Mid-Atlantic region in 2013, I was pumped to say the very least. Months leading up to the brood II emergence, a day could not go by without me at least thinking about them and the possibilities in store. Having missed out on them in central Pennsylvania a few years back, I perused the internet looking at videos and reports from previous emergences and day dreamed of pods of carp and trout rising to feast upon the hapless insects. One particular article on the event claimed that an estimated 1 trillion of the cicadas were expected to serenade us with their presence. Needless to say, my hopes were sky high and bound to be disappointed.

As reports started to emerge in late May, I took to the vice to concoct a pattern that I hoped would work. As the days went by, I texted friends/family and browsed social media outlooks looking for any sign of activity in my area. There was nothing. As the weeks went by and into June, I began to doubt that I would be able to cast my flies at much of anything. There was nothing to be heard of, save for some scattered and isolated internet rumblings. My mind began to question whether the late spring frosts or flooding had anything to do with the delay or lack of an emergence. As the third week of June began, I was out on a golf outing with the entire family and the insect I had been dreaming of flew over the tee box. It was about to go down.

As it turns out, they had emerged after all and I was just looking in the wrong places. I was waiting for the bugs to come to me when I had to go to the bugs. Driving around and listening for the twilight sound of cicadas (think the movie Them) became a daily activity. Talking to fellow fishermen for advice and whereabouts became another. My dreamlike expectation of having magicicadas emerging everywhere and drowning out conversations was a mirage. They are actually extremely isolated (in my area) where certain sections of a stream have them while other sections do not. One side of a mountain could be alive with cicadas while the other won't have any. Most developed areas are devoid of the magicicada and then you can drive into a town and they are bouncing off your windshield. They are here and there but not everywhere.

My high hopes produced unrealistic expectations and I have since been brought back to reality. There aren't a trillion cicadas out there, but there are a lot, and you just have to find them. All the fish in the river aren't going nuts for them but there are fish gorging themselves and willing to hammer a size 6 dry fly. For those willing to go and find them, you will experience some outstanding fishing. However, you might just have to get out of your comfort zone and explore some new areas.

Beat to Hell

Teeth Marks Courtesy of Wild Browns...