I have honestly waited for this hatch to happen for the past 8 years. Ever since the buzzing in my ears stopped from the epic 2008 hatch in central PA, I was researching the next southwestern PA emergence. I was fairly certain this would be the year and I had prepared my family and my work that I may fall off the grid when this happened. The time was finally here.
We had a couple early outings with no results. The cicadas where singing, but the fish just didn't know what they were. But as they became more active and began flying, it didn't take long. I remember the first brown trout that crushed my big black foam fly and I looked at my buddy and just smiled. It had begun. And from that point forward, it was fly fishing nirvana over the next 2.5 weeks. It turned out to be everything I expected and binge fishing at its finest.
I can't explain how strange this is for our trout to eat these size of dry fly bugs. We don't get the epic salmonfly hatches or hopper fishing that the western states get. On these waters, midges, BWOs and small caddis are the mainstay. And catching a good brown on anything than a big streamer can be difficult, or just plain lucky. But, to see the way these fish reacted to this new floating, fluttering filet mignon was awesome.
Without a doubt, the big browns stole the show. The rainbows ate the cicadas but many times they would nip at it, nudge it with their nose, and just flat out pussyfoot around. Many rainbows I missed never really tried to eat it (at least that is what I tell myself). The browns were completely different, a different species, a predator. At times when the fly hit the water, it was an instantaneous explosion hellbent on not only eating that cicada, but utterly destroying it. It was awesome. And if you weren't ready for this to happen the second the fat bug hit the water, then you were most likely surprised when it happened. And if you were surprised, that most likely resulted in pulling the fly out of the fishes mouth instead of coolly just coming tight to the fish. And most likely it was the biggest damn fish of the day. It always happens this way. To be clear, I didnt catch a 2 foot brown in these couple weeks. But I missed and lost a couple that will haunt me for the next 17 years.
Over this time, we learned a ton and found large trout in new waters that we never fished in the past. In one section of stream the most productive part was the section I used to wade across to get to the 'prime' water. My perception of where these big fish lay was completely flipped in these few weeks. This will pay dividends in the future and it could take me another decade to figure out what I did in this short time.
This year, the summer solstice happened on June 21 and the cicadas seemed to end with the setting of the new moon. They didn't just disappear that night, but the volume of the cicada song and activity dramatically decreased. It was an obvious and strange milestone.
In the end, I am almost glad that this hatch only happens once every 17 years. Most people have no idea fish even eat cicadas and an even smaller percentage figure out when and where this is happening. By the time the 'word' actually gets out, its almost about over. For those that fish, the fishing is almost too easy. It's a welcome change to for the seasoned angler, but if it was always this easy more people would be flyfishing, and that same seasoned angler would find another hobby that was a more difficult.
In 17 years, I will be 53 and my kids will be 19 and 20. Somehow, this is exciting and depressing at the same time. I pray we're all still here and the trout waters that I know are still here. It sounds crazy, but a lot can happen in 17 years.
