It's the Midwest's most ubiquitous hatch but you can forget the minutiae: What you need to know is that on any given day on any trout stream in the Midwest a Blue-winged Olive of some sort or another will be hatching.
By Dean Hansen
It should be enough to know that the flies we call Blue-winged Olives are almost universally present and bring on some of the best and most consistent fishing of the year in the Midwest, but it isn't, at least, for most of us.
The reports we hear from the streams and rivers our friends fish are at best inconclusive and usually of little help:
I wasn't sure what was going on: looked like little olives, Blue Wings, probably. Or....
They sure were little, and I never did catch any, but the fish were eating them like crazy.
What are the flies we call Blue-winged Olives or BWOs, these small mayflies (usually) that are so much a part of our angling lives in the Midwest? It should be simple enough: The body of the imitation is olive and the wing is blue (more accurately, a shade of gray). The confusion comes from oversimplification: Blue-winged Olives, or BWOs, imitate some (but not all) species from such diverse mayfly genera as Baetis, Ephemerella and Drunella (and others).
Sometimes there are advantages to generalizing. One can, for example, use some sort of BWO imitation and catch trout throughout the fishing season. That's a plus. The disadvantages, however, are glaring and numerous: one BWO emerges in the morning, another at dusk; one is a #12, another is a #22; one emerges in April, another in November.
One way to understand a complex situation is to examine its components separately and then try to see the whole again. Let's look at these diverse genera one at a time, starting with Baetis.
In the "old days," Baetis was described as being a rather small, swimming-type mayfly nymph. Baetis nymphs had single gills along the sides of the abdomen, minute hind wing pads and a middle tail that was shorter than the outer ones. Simple? Here's the catch: Entomologists long have recognized that Baetis was a bit of an artificial mish-mash of sometimes distantly related species. They recently rearranged things and created new names (Diphetor, Labiobaetis) and obliterated one old friend, Pseudocloeon.
There are a couple dozen species of Baetis (in the old sense) recorded in the central U. S. alone. Two collectors in Wisconsin found 14 species in that state in the 1970s and 35 years ago nine species were found in Michigan. While the bodies of several of these species (e.g., B. brunneicolor and intercalaris) are more brown than olive and the imitations are sometimes called Iron-blue Quills and Slate-winged Brown Quills, they traditionally have been lumped with their more definitely olive-bodied cousins the Blue-winged Olives.
The first of these species to emerge is the old Baetis vagans, now more properly called B. tricaudatus. While they don't blanket the waters during the winter months, I have seen B. tricaudatus duns in Minnesota and Wisconsin in January and February. The sight of fish rising to take tricaudatus duns on a west-central Wisconsin river on New Year's Day remains a vivid memory for one angler I know.
Such occasional hatches on warm winter days become more reliable in March and April when B. tricaudatus appears around midday. Note the word "around", predicting the hour of a Baetis hatch is like predicting next weekend's weather. Baetis hatches depend on water temperature, cloud cover, and whatever unknowns go on in their very tiny brains. They do, for instance, like adversity: a snow squall, drizzle, or heavy overcast may be more to a tricaudatus dun's liking than a bright afternoon with temperatures in the 80s.
At 8 millimeters (mm) long, the duns of these spring hatches of B. tricaudatus are best imitated by a BWO tied on a #16 hook. A second brood of B. tricaudatus emerges in June, while a third brood follows in late July, August, and throughout September. Like most multi-brooded insects, the adults of these warmer-weather mayflies are both smaller and more pale than their spring parents, and a BWO tricaudatus imitation in June or August would be tied on a #18 or #20 hook. These later broods also emerge much later in the day than do the March and April generations. A few weeks ago I discovered tricaudatus duns emerging at dusk on a nearby stream.
The early B. tricaudatus hatch is followed in the Midwest by hatches of two smaller species, B. intercalaris and flavistriga. In B. tricaudatus nymphs, the three tails are fairly uniformly colored. In B. intercalaris and flavistriga, however, each tail has a definite, broad dark band. Both of these species are smaller than tricaudatus. Duns measure 4 to 6 mm long-sizes #18 to #22. B. intercalaris emerges in Wisconsin from June to early October, an emergence duration that I assume exists in Minnesota and Michigan. B. flavistriga has an even longer recorded emergence period: late May to November. Conceivably, then, anglers could find one, two, or even three species of Baetis hatching on a summer's day. Does it make a difference which one is emerging? As an entomologist, I spend a lot of time behind a microscope, peering at gill shapes or mouth parts of nymphs and going through journal articles. I do this because I like it, not because I must do it to catch fish. Frankly, 300-plus-page books on mayflies seem a bit intimidating, even to an entomologist. What do you really need to know about BWOs to enjoy a couple hours on a stream? That Baetis pygmaeus is now Acerpenna pygmae?