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My hands never feel more clunky, my fingers more thick and clumsy, than when I switch from tying those big Steelhead flies to tying little trout flies. This is my third attempt at a flashback pheasant tail, and it still leaves some things to be desired. Shorter legs, for example.
But it's a start. The muscle-memory will come back--I hope. And it's time. There were midges swarming in my yard today, harbingers of the awakening river.
Back to the bench.