Even when trout take a pattern of mine with ego-building consistency, I find myself casting the fly into the floating naturals and looking for anything that could be improved. On one such occasion on northern Michigan's Boardman River, the idea for my spinner cripple pattern was hatched.

A spinner cripple fly can imitate the curved body and angled-wing profile of Blue-winged Olve, Trico, or other crippled mayfly spinners.

I was fishing the evening Blue-winged Olive spinner fall with a traditional spent-wing spinner pattern and was having a pretty good night. When I placed the fly where it belonged, the fly was met with an aggressive take.

After landing six or seven nice fish during what seemed to be an endless spinner fall, I noticed that the fish took my fly harder than they took natural insects. This didn't seem right. Yes, I know about looking a gift horse in the mouth; but I also know that if a fish changes its feeding rhythm to take a fly, it is aware of something different in that fly, which means it might not work consistently.

Fish that take imitations harder than naturals may in fact be refusing the pattern, but they hook themselves anyway because they were committed to making the rise. I wondered why the fish took the naturals so softly, and I wanted them to take my pattern with the same unconcerned confidence. I decided to forgo fishing the rest of the hatch and instead kneel in the feeding lane to watch the insects on the water and the feeding fish.

The first ten minutes didn't reveal much--just hundreds of floating spinners. After a few more minutes I noticed that many of the spinners were lying on their sides with only one wing visible to the fish. Since it was near dark, I called it a night.

The next evening I returned with a seining tray and sampled five different areas for about 20 bugs a site. I found that 70 percent of the spinners were spent to one side, not showing both wings to the fish like a traditional spent-spinner pattern.

In addition to the one spent wing, I noticed a curve to the natural spinner's body. The natural had a distinct, soft-looking bend. My pattern looked ridged and stiff. I immediately cut one wing off the fly and tried casting it, but to no avail. The fly spun my leader much like a poorly tied cut-wing fly.

The next day, equipped with a tray full of dead bugs, I sat at the vise and went to work. I wanted to design a one-winged fly that would not spin during the cast. I also needed the soft curvature in the body that was present in the natural. By bending a Tiemco TMC 101 hook and putting the wing on the inside of that bend, I solved both problems. The wing placement provides balance to the fly and keeps it from spinning the leader, and the bend gives the fly the soft curve that the naturals display on the water.

The Real Test
The night I tested the new fly, I arrived at the river before the fish started to rise. The pre-tests proved successful. The bend had kept the fly from spinning, and the fly looked good on the water. Fishing it, however, was the real test.

A crippled mayfly spinner.

The night was perfect--70 degrees F. and calm. The bugs showed, and the fish rose; all was right with the world. My first cast with my new fly resulted in a soft head-and-tail rise from a chunky 10-incher. Not enough proof. I worked upstream and picked off several more fish that took with the same soft rise.

Once convinced, I switched to the traditional spinner. Fish took that pattern also, but again I had the harder takes. The crippled spinner obviously didn't disturb the fish's feeding rhythm. I continued to fish the cripple through the summer with excellent results.

In early fall I headed for Montana's Bighorn River to give the fly another test. The Bighorn is one of the best and most technical dry-fly rivers in the world. On my arrival in Montana, I met my good friend Mike Craig, a Bighorn veteran and former owner of the Bighorn Angler for 17 years. I told him all about the great success I had with the new cripple fly on my home water, but I knew he would not be an easy sell. The next morning we left for the river at 6 A.M. to fish the Tricos.

We fished together and took turns casting to rising trout. After an hour or so, we found one particularly stubborn fish. It was Mike's turn, and he made dozens of perfect casts to a big brown without a take. Finally, tired of either my heckling or the fish's disinterest, Mike said, "Why don't you give him a try?" I pulled out my new fly and said something appropriate about its greatness--all I got from Mike was a raised eyebrow.

My fly landed just a foot or so off the mark. The big brown moved slightly from its feeding lane and lazily inhaled the little cripple. I looked at Mike and received the same raised eyebrow.

Mike asked for one of my cripple flies and headed upstream. When we rejoined a few hours later, I found him seated on a bank. He had just released a big brown. He had fished to the big brown for a long time and couldn't get it to take anything. After a half-hour of refusals, Mike tied on the cripple. On the first cast the fish moved two feet to take it.

I now fish the cripple spinner pattern for almost all the major Midwest hatches, in both the spinner and dun stages. It's easy to tie and the fish often prefer it over traditional patterns.