Fountains of Youth – Classic trout flies that have withstood the test of time … flies that remain “forever young”
by Rusty Dunn
If you fly fish long enough, you will probably encounter one of angling’s most enjoyable but puzzling events. After you’ve landed a few trout, your fly becomes a bit disheveled. That manicured imitation carefully crafted at the vise is no longer neat and tidy. Land a few more fish, and the fly is totally bedraggled. Perhaps the tail is chewed off. Or that handsomely dubbed body thins to little more than a geriatric comb-over. Land a few more, and the fly begins to shed body parts. Maybe one of the wings is missing. Or the hackle stem breaks, and the long feather trails behind the fly. Or a broken thread causes half the pattern to be entirely missing. Trout flies do not fall apart gracefully and, by now, your fly resembles nothing in the aquatic or terrestrial world. Yet it continues to catch trout. Lots of trout. You are rightfully puzzled how such an amorphous lump of fur and feather would appeal to trout. Mumbling to yourself, “Why do we even bother with imitation?”, you eventually just accept the good fortune and have a wonderful hour or two of fishing.
Angling folklore is replete with such stories. The seemingly inescapable conclusion is that insect imitation is not very important for success, at least at certain times. Many insightful angler-authors have discussed how severely damaged flies can be effective. The more convincing speculations usually involve periods of insect emergence, when hatching juveniles accumulate near the surface and transition to aerial adults. Emergence is a lengthy struggle as winged adults extricate themselves from their juvenile skins, pierce the rubbery film of surface tension, crawl atop the water, dry their wings, and fly away. Author G.E.M. Skues rather mischievously described the process as, “(Emergers) pass through a stage of untidy struggle not distantly resembling that which a golfer or a footballer displays in extricating himself from a tight-fitting pullover or sweater or jersey” (Side-Lines, Side-Lights and Reflections, 1932). Many (sometimes most!) individual attempts at emergence are unsuccessful, and a hodgepodge of living, dying, and dead hatchlings accumulate at or just under the surface. Such failures include every ragtag, aberrant, or malformed monstrosity imaginable. If hatches are strong or if weather disturbs the delicate process, trout can gather for insane feeding frenzies where any semblance of fluff or rubble is taken aggressively.
Such feeding frenzies are a rare treat, but how important is insect imitation during “normal” times, when trout rise to emergers but do so more judiciously? Anglers who understand the vagaries of insect hatches often purposefully include untidiness in their emerger designs. Perhaps Gary Borger described the logic best: “(Emergers) are a ragtag, rumpled, and disheveled group. The very best imitations are themselves a disreputable-looking lot” (Nymphing, 1979).
Calvert ‘Cal’ Bird designed in the early 1980s a remarkably effective attractor fly that serves equally well as an emerger or a nymph. Bird was a San Francisco calligrapher by trade and had an artist’s sense of form, color, and perception. His fly patterns are all strongly impressionistic (as opposed to imitative). They have a looseness of form and a decided raggedness, being tied of soft materials that quiver and breathe when wet. Bird’s most famous fly, the Bird’s Nest Nymph, proves the point that excellent trout flies need not closely imitate specific insects. The fly is essentially a hybrid between a generic nymph (think Gold-Ribbed Hare’s Ear) and a wingless wet fly (think Soft-Hackled March Brown). It looks vaguely like a caddis pupa, but caddis pupae don’t have tails. It resembles mayfly nymphs, but mayfly wing cases and wing buds are missing. It looks a bit like stonefly nymphs, but the tail is all wrong and the fly is too scraggly to imitate hard-bodied stoneflies. A Bird’s Nest contains elements of all these insects, but it realistically imitates none of them. Rather, it is an all-purpose attractor whose design suggests juveniles and emergers of many different insects. Fish it near the bottom during non-hatch periods and just under the surface during a hatch.
Copyright 2025, Rusty Dunn
Bird’s Nest Nymph

Tie Bird’s Nest Nymphs in sizes and colors to match prevailing insects. Cal Bird’s favorite color was natural tan. Tie the wing behind the thorax and brush the thorax such that its fibers merge and blend with the wing. Add a beadhead or weight to fish deeply.
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Hook:
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1X-long wet fly or nymph, #10 – #20
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Thread:
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Tan, 8/0 or 6/0 depending on hook size
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Tail:
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Wood duck flank, length ~½-¾ hook shank
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Rib:
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Fine copper wire
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Abdomen:
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Natural fur dubbing mixture: 50% Australian possum; 40% hare’s mask (with guard hairs); 10% natural or synthetic seal fur.
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Wings:
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Wood duck flank, tied “in the round”
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Thorax:
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Dubbing same as the abdomen
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Bird’s Nest Nymph
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Last Updated: October 8, 2025 by Drew Kasel
by Rusty Dunn
If you fly fish long enough, you will probably encounter one of angling’s most enjoyable but puzzling events. After you’ve landed a few trout, your fly becomes a bit disheveled. That manicured imitation carefully crafted at the vise is no longer neat and tidy. Land a few more fish, and the fly is totally bedraggled. Perhaps the tail is chewed off. Or that handsomely dubbed body thins to little more than a geriatric comb-over. Land a few more, and the fly begins to shed body parts. Maybe one of the wings is missing. Or the hackle stem breaks, and the long feather trails behind the fly. Or a broken thread causes half the pattern to be entirely missing. Trout flies do not fall apart gracefully and, by now, your fly resembles nothing in the aquatic or terrestrial world. Yet it continues to catch trout. Lots of trout. You are rightfully puzzled how such an amorphous lump of fur and feather would appeal to trout. Mumbling to yourself, “Why do we even bother with imitation?”, you eventually just accept the good fortune and have a wonderful hour or two of fishing.
Angling folklore is replete with such stories. The seemingly inescapable conclusion is that insect imitation is not very important for success, at least at certain times. Many insightful angler-authors have discussed how severely damaged flies can be effective. The more convincing speculations usually involve periods of insect emergence, when hatching juveniles accumulate near the surface and transition to aerial adults. Emergence is a lengthy struggle as winged adults extricate themselves from their juvenile skins, pierce the rubbery film of surface tension, crawl atop the water, dry their wings, and fly away. Author G.E.M. Skues rather mischievously described the process as, “(Emergers) pass through a stage of untidy struggle not distantly resembling that which a golfer or a footballer displays in extricating himself from a tight-fitting pullover or sweater or jersey” (Side-Lines, Side-Lights and Reflections, 1932). Many (sometimes most!) individual attempts at emergence are unsuccessful, and a hodgepodge of living, dying, and dead hatchlings accumulate at or just under the surface. Such failures include every ragtag, aberrant, or malformed monstrosity imaginable. If hatches are strong or if weather disturbs the delicate process, trout can gather for insane feeding frenzies where any semblance of fluff or rubble is taken aggressively.
Such feeding frenzies are a rare treat, but how important is insect imitation during “normal” times, when trout rise to emergers but do so more judiciously? Anglers who understand the vagaries of insect hatches often purposefully include untidiness in their emerger designs. Perhaps Gary Borger described the logic best: “(Emergers) are a ragtag, rumpled, and disheveled group. The very best imitations are themselves a disreputable-looking lot” (Nymphing, 1979).
Calvert ‘Cal’ Bird designed in the early 1980s a remarkably effective attractor fly that serves equally well as an emerger or a nymph. Bird was a San Francisco calligrapher by trade and had an artist’s sense of form, color, and perception. His fly patterns are all strongly impressionistic (as opposed to imitative). They have a looseness of form and a decided raggedness, being tied of soft materials that quiver and breathe when wet. Bird’s most famous fly, the Bird’s Nest Nymph, proves the point that excellent trout flies need not closely imitate specific insects. The fly is essentially a hybrid between a generic nymph (think Gold-Ribbed Hare’s Ear) and a wingless wet fly (think Soft-Hackled March Brown). It looks vaguely like a caddis pupa, but caddis pupae don’t have tails. It resembles mayfly nymphs, but mayfly wing cases and wing buds are missing. It looks a bit like stonefly nymphs, but the tail is all wrong and the fly is too scraggly to imitate hard-bodied stoneflies. A Bird’s Nest contains elements of all these insects, but it realistically imitates none of them. Rather, it is an all-purpose attractor whose design suggests juveniles and emergers of many different insects. Fish it near the bottom during non-hatch periods and just under the surface during a hatch.
Copyright 2025, Rusty Dunn
Bird’s Nest Nymph
Tie Bird’s Nest Nymphs in sizes and colors to match prevailing insects. Cal Bird’s favorite color was natural tan. Tie the wing behind the thorax and brush the thorax such that its fibers merge and blend with the wing. Add a beadhead or weight to fish deeply.
Hook:
1X-long wet fly or nymph, #10 – #20
Thread:
Tan, 8/0 or 6/0 depending on hook size
Tail:
Wood duck flank, length ~½-¾ hook shank
Rib:
Fine copper wire
Abdomen:
Natural fur dubbing mixture: 50% Australian possum; 40% hare’s mask (with guard hairs); 10% natural or synthetic seal fur.
Wings:
Wood duck flank, tied “in the round”
Thorax:
Dubbing same as the abdomen
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Category: Fly Tying, Rusty Dunn Fountains of Youth
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