… with my March Brown. I was going to put a cool wing in order to feel at last that I’m part of the ancient and noble tradition that puts wings on its flies, like Dame Juliana Bernes did back in the early XVth century.
It didn’t work at all. One of the reasons for that is that I don’t have a proper feather from which I could extract a pair of wings. All I’ve got is some half eaten garbage, which I tried to bend to my will for what seemed a very long eternity, before sending the damn stuff to hell. Then I remembered I read somewhere that the modern wet tends to have some lively fibers in lieu of wings.
All right I said. Fuck that wing, I’ll put deer hair on it. The result is not that bad, but kind of hide the hackle.