Harvey Gives a Latin Lesson

“What’s the purpose of knowing the scientific name for this Sulphur I’m tying on?” I asked Harvey P., my fly fishing mentor when I was in my early teens.

“It provides a common frame of reference,” answered Harvey. “ For instance, that Sulphur, depending on what area of the country you are in is also known as a Pale Evening Dun, Little Maryatt, or a Pale Watery Dun. So if a writer uses the scientific name, a reader anyplace in the country would know what fly he was referring to.”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” I replied. “I’d be clueless.”

“I told you the Latin name for a Sulphur last week, do you remember?”

“Esmerella dorothy,” I replied.

“Not exactly,” said Harvey. “It’s Ephemerella dorothea, I guess I forgot you flunked Latin last year.”

“Gee, Harvey thanks for reminding me. Anyhow, I don’t plan on living any place else except Maine, and I’m just getting by in Miss Houghton’s English class, let alone becoming a writer.  So I will just call Sulphurs, Sulphurs, thank you very much.”

Harvey said, “ I got two words for you boy—things change.”

When two fishermen meet the exchange is always, “Had any luck?” and if so, “What didja ketchum on?”

If the person asking the question was a fellow feather flinger, Harvey would be most accommodating. He would tell him the size and pattern in common terms. If the fellow didn’t have the fly that was working well, Harvey would often give him one.

Harvey always wondered why a bait chucker would ask him what he had caught fish on. It was obvious to all but the blind that he was not one of them.  Bait chuckers did not carry bamboo fly rods. Nor, did they have a dozen or so flies stuck in their hats.

 When a bait chucker would ask, Harvey would use the Latin terminology. “Brachycentrus americanus and Ephemerella dorethea are working well,” he would often reply.

“Oh,” was a typical response, with an accompanying blank look.

“You can get some at the fly shop in Ellsworth,” Harvey said.

A mumbled thanks and they continued on their way.

“Why in blazes do they ask?” Harvey said as much to himself as to me.

Harvey said to me, “ Here comes the village idiot, Forest Sawyer.”

Forest loved to rattle Harvey’s chain. One sure way of doing that was to ask him if he had had any luck, and what did he catch them on.

“A Tyrannosaurus Rex was working well until I lost it,” replied Harvey.

“I ain’t heard of that one before,” said Forest.

“You can get some at the fly shop in Ellsworth.”

“May be I should pick up a few. See you around Harvey.”

“You do that Forest, tell’um I sent you.”

As soon as Forest was out of hearing distance I turned to Harvey, “Isn’t Tyrannosaurus Rex a…”

 “Yep, said Harvey.”