moments that is the awesomeness of this insect order.
Unlike stoneflies and mayflies, some caddisfly species exhibit a sort of hibernation called a “diapause” that can last from as little as a few months to several consecutive months, and is dependent largely upon the quality of water and temperature. Some species of Green Sedge are known to enter into a state of frozen animation during winter—think of it as natures advanced cryogenic laboratory. When winter hits hard and the temperatures plummet the larvae often become suspended in their environment in pockets of ice. The frozen larvae remain locked in the tomb until warmer weather frees them in the spring. During the deep freeze the caddisflies are relatively well protected from all predators and emerge in the spring untouched and unfazed by their recent predicament.
In all three aforementioned families, a single larva can experience upwards of five instars during the 2 to 3-years prior to emergence. During the final stages leading to the larvae’s transformation into its pupa state—case-builders in particular—transition into a state much like the “diapauses,” where the larvae close off the openings of the case and their appetite and movements all but cease. The larvae continue to grow during their final days before they transition to pupae and ultimately emerge into the moth like tent-winged adults.
Caddisfly larvae, like mayflies and stoneflies, undergo numerous moments of behavioral drift and offer waiting trout an easy strung-out meal. This jockeying for stream position is their means for seeking out better feeding grounds and more room in which to grow. What separates the caddisflies from the rest of the aquatic insect world is the means at which they use for getting there.
On all accounts caddisflies are the Spiderman of the aquatic world and reigning champion of rappelling techniques. During a synchronized behavioral drift larvae tether themselves to the bottom of the river with silk; much like a spider does as it drifts down from the ceiling of your home or a tree in the forest. Caddisflies drift with the current until they come into contact with the next underwater structure, at which point the net-spinners spin yet another evolution of webs, and the remaining case-builders and free-roamers go back to clinging to their chosen habitat. The case-builders transition from one area to the next with their case still intact, and trout are never shy at consuming them, case and all.
LaFontaine wrote of a technique in which he would paint the last few inches of his tippet white to mimic this period of behavioral drift, and claims to have had much success in his endeavors. I always find myself short a white paint maker when streamside and cannot attest to the validity of this techniques production. However, I can vouch for the remainder of the beneficial information contained within its pages, which leads me to believe that this statement alone is backed with enough truth for any angler to go on.
The Misguided Emergence
All too often, as I pointed out earlier, anglers jump at the chance to cast dry flies. I understand this drawing force to tie on an Elk hair or Deer hair pattern that mimics the adult caddisfly to the end of the tippet. I mean, who of us out there, whom have ever caught a trout on the rise, didn’t relish in the experience of that surface crushing action and do not appreciate visibly watching the beautifully spot covered trout rolling over top of the fly you’re offering? No one. Ever. But, before you grease up those slanted wings and clip the split-shot from your line, believe me when I tell you you’re missing out on some of the most productive and often fastest rewarding trout fishing of the season.
The first stage of a caddisfly emergence happens largely unnoticed to the angler