THE FISHERMAN MacINTOSH AND THE MacINTOSH FLY

The following article, first published in the Atlantic Salmon Journal, has been on display for several years in the Margaree Salmon Museum.

The article was written by Dr. Edwards A. Park, whose camp still stands beside the Northeast Margaree River. Both the author and his article's subject, Dan MacIntosh, are no longer with us. Dr. Park is fondly remembered by the Margaree regulars and Dan MacIntosh is fondly remembered around the St. Mary's.

Thanks to ASF for giving us permission on behalf of the Atlantic Salmon Journal to reprint the article.

- Bill Carpan

In a recent issue of the Atlantic Salmon Journal, Dr. Arthur, in his article "Let's Talk About the Margaree" described one of the most popular flies used on that river, the MacIntosh, and gave me the honour of originating this famous fly. However, although I have tied many flies of my own design, I am not the inventor of the MacIntosh fly.

The correction of this error gives me the opportunity to tell the story of its origin, as it has been related to me.

The late Mr. George Burgess of Halifax told me some years ago that his attention had been attracted in one of the sporting magazines to a description of a dry fly called the Western Hair Fly. He tied several imitations of it with a view to trial on salmon. Taking his samples along, he tested them on one of Nova Scotia's rivers, (I presume the St. Mary's). He was accompanied by his partner in the taxicab business, Mr. Cornwall, and by Daniel MacIntosh. He informed me that MacIntosh examined the fly and pronounced it to be no good, condemning it categorically. However, Mr. Burgess proceeded to take four salmon on his new fly, while MacIntosh took none. Then, according to Mr. Burgess, MacIntosh tied several imitations of the fly and proceeded to use them. Shortly afterwards MacIntosh came to fish the Margaree and, using the fly, had such great success that the grapevine became alive and fairly echoed.

I was eager to learn what the extraordinary fly was like and, hearing that MacIntosh had gone to the professional fly tier, James Bennett, to obtain materials, I immediately called upon him and asked for a description of the fly. James, the son of that famous fishing character, Lawrence Bennett, gave me a description from what he remembered of the specimen that MacIntosh had showed to him. I tied several from Bennett's description, but as I later found out, not for the exact pattern of the fly shown by MacIntosh.

MacIntosh the Fisherman

The next morning about eight o'clock I went to the Margaree's MacDaniel Pool. There was pouring rain and the river was beginning to rise. I found already there the well‑known guide and expert fisherman, the late Philip Hannegan, with one of his sons and several other anglers.  All were using wet flies and one angler had taken one salmon, the rest none. I was on the road side of the pool. Suddenly on the opposite side a human apparition appeared in a black hat, black rubber coat and black rubber boots with a 14‑foot rod in his hand and a gaff slung from his shoulder. He called out to the warden above me on the bank of the river: "What's the limit today?" The limit was six salmon, which I am certain that MacIntosh, for it was he, knew like everyone else. Then followed a show which was startling. Wading out on a submerged sand spit, he cast far out into the centre of the upper part of the pool and promptly hooked a fish. He did not play the fish like other fishermen but, holding the rod in his left hand and keeping his line taut and with the gaff in his right hand, he proceeded to chase the fish, making wild lunges at him with his gaff. Having secured the fish in a matter of a few minutes, he again walked out on the sand spit and began to cast. After a few casts another salmon took his fly and the performance was repeated in all details. All told, he took five salmon and lost three, at intervals of not more than a few minutes. Having secured five, he stopped one short of the daily limit, the reason being, as reported to me afterwards, that he had had only one fly and had lost it in the last fish hooked.

While this spectacle was in progress, I put on the dry fly tied according to the Bennett description and soon took two fish. I recall that MacIntosh, when he saw I had one, called across: "What fly are you using?" I replied "a dry fly". He called back: "That's the fly for today." My son, using a wet fly, had had no success; I gave him one of my dry flies and he took two fish. The pool must have been full of fish with a special collection at the spot which MacIntosh with his 14-foot rod was reaching, and the day one of those which for mysterious reasons was a "dry fly day".

MacIntosh was and is a remarkable fisherman, so much so that I, for one, have gone to a pool just to watch him. This in itself is not to be wondered at, for he lives with the St. Mary's River at his door and from boyhood has grown up with his rod and gun as the tools, largely, of his existence and he has acquired the knowledge and cunning of the Indian. He fishes for salmon with a unique technique, so different from that of the ordinary fisherman that he can be identified from afar because of the way he holds his rod and casts. With elbow down he casts with tremendous force from his forearm; he must have an unusually powerful arm. I have been told that breaking rods is a common experience. At the conclusion of cast he lowers his hand so that his arm hangs down almost vertically from his shoulder and, holding his rod parallel to the surface of the water a foot or two above it, stands in a waiting position. If necessary he jerks the rod back at the conclusion of his forward cast to force the fly into the desired position. He has wonderful vision and when I have been totally unable to see salmon, he was able not only to see them but to pick out from among them those evidently fresh run. In my observation he seldom fishes over a pool systematically but over fish which he can see or over a rise or over "hot spots" which he knows. 

Watching MacIntosh fish with a dry fly, one would think that he was a rough caster. He delivers his fly with such force that it lands on the water with a splash and at the end of its float he snatches it off the water with a swish. But, if one watches closely, for about eight feet over the fish, four above and four below, the drift is as smooth and near perfect as the ordinary dry fly fisherman could possibly hope for. The final and most important feature of his success is that he repeats his cast in rhythmic fashion every few seconds. He is able to do this for several reasons. First, he never makes a false cast to dry out his fly. If his fly does not float, he douses it in a bottle of floatant which he produces from his pocket, not attempting even to dry it. Second, the drift is short, as I have said, not more than eight or ten feet.  The third reason is the way in which he ties the fly. He uses native squirrel tail, which has far better floating properties than the ordinarily used fox squirrel tail, and a very sparse hackle of not more than one or two feathers, taken, I should guess, from any rooster handy. As a result the fly has a minimum of air resistance. 

I have often wondered whether MacIntosh's rapidly rhythmic repetition of the fly over the field of vision of the fish may not be the most important factor in his angling success. From the salmon's point of view the object keeps travelling over him in a rapid succession. In physiology, the summation of electrical stimuli, one piled up on another, is the way in which to produce maximum contraction of the muscle. Thus, may it not be that this rhythmic repetition of stimuli is the most effective way to arrest the salmon's attention and to cause him to investigate or actually seize the fly? The only final way in which a salmon can investigate is with his mouth. The late Mr. Walter Lee, who had a camp not far from MacIntosh's house, on the St. Mary's River, told me once that on occasion he had pointed out a salmon to MacIntosh and had asked him to see if he could " raise it" . Mr. Lee remarked that MacIntosh could usually raise the salmon but not always.

I do not wish to imply that the technique with a dry fly which I have described above is the only one that MacIntosh employs. Of course he varies it according to the position of the fish, the currents and the winds. But I have never seen him use another and have seen him use this many times.  

The Merits of the MacIntosh Fly

Was MacIntosh's success on the morning described to be attributed to the special virtues of the MacIntosh dry fly?  Undoubtedly the fly has special virtues. In my experience on the Margaree River it is more likely to take fish than the puff ball varieties, such as La Branche introduced into salmon fishing. It seems to me that it has the merits of the Wulff fly. I have wondered whether the salmon, looking at the fly from underneath, would be able to distinguish between the horns of a Wulff fly and the vertical disk of hackles of the MacIntosh fly. The MacIntosh fly is so easy to tie that it is within the powers of the amateur fly tier.  Moreover, the amount of wind resistance can be varied by using short or long hackles as the situation requires. By and large it is the most serviceable fly on the Margaree River and almost all the fishermen there carry it. 

However, I do not believe that MacIntosh's success on the occasion mentioned was due to the fly which bears his name but rather to the dry fly.

At the time, years ago, the use of the dry fly in salmon fishing was in its infancy. The well-known Margaree guide, Duncan MacKenzie, used a puff ball dry fly, not much larger than a trout fly. John Cosseboom, who fished the Margaree each summer and preferred it to other rivers, used a variety of dry flies, his favourite being a La Branche tied on a long hook, giving it a caterpillar effect.  Others of course - I was one - were using on occasion dry flies, mostly of the small puff ball types.  However, the use of the dry fly was not general. It must be remembered, those were the days of the 12 and 14-foot rods.  The other fishermen on the river undoubtedly would have been successful on that particular morning had they been using dry flies. But a major part of MacIntosh's success was due to his skill and knowledge.  With his 14-foot rod he was reaching a spot in the pool beyond the range of the ordinary fisherman.  He must have known that in the spot in question there was a nest of salmon. I doubt if any other fisherman of my acquaintance with the same fly could have duplicated MacIntosh's performance on that morning, certainly not compressed into more than a couple of hours.

According to Mr. Burgess' report to me, the name of the fly, The MacIntosh, is derived, not because MacIntosh had anything whatsoever to do with its invention - as remarked above, he is reported to have scoffed at it - but to the success with which he used it on that and other occasions. His introduction of the fly on the Margaree River caused the use of the "MacIntosh" dry fly to become general. Ever since then every fisherman on the river carries with him his complement of dry as well as wet flies and the MacIntosh is the most commonly used among them.

Edwards A. Park