This story comes back to me through a thick haze of canadian beer and hatching mayflies but it goes something like this...
Several years ago my older brother, Brett, one of his friends, and myself took a trip back to Penns Creek to hit the Green Drake hatch. We got there early in the afternoon and spent some time catching fish on sulphurs and other various mayfly nymphs. It was getting close to the drake hatch, or as some call it back that way the "shad hatch," so we took it upon ourselves to imbibe in a few alcoholic beverages. Probably one or two too many for my older brother and his buddy because out of no where his friend Craig picks up a mayfly and eats it. Surprised but not to be out done Brett grabs the next unsuspecting mayfly and chomps down on it. In order to not let this get out of hand I talk them into heading back out to the river before we miss the hatch. We each grabbed a 6 pack, stuffed it into our waders and hit the river.
The drakes weren't far behind us and before long we were into fish, and a few more beers. Then out of nowhere my brother shouts out a number something like "THAT's 5!" Downstream from him a little fainter I here what I suppose to be "NUMBER 6 FOR ME!" I thought nice they're really getting into them and that's when I look a little closer and see that Brett is picking drakes off his vest and eating them. What usually is a fishing competition has turned into a bug eating competition.
It's hard to say for sure how many they ate but from what I can remember Craig finished eating somewhere in the neighborhood of 17 drakes and a caddisfly. With drakes getting closer and closer to hatching maybe I can get those two hooligans together, throw in some Labatt Blue's, and get a rematch?
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