Ah, the Griffith’s Gnat—little bundle of feathers and herl that’s saved my bacon more times than I can count. You’d think something so simple wouldn’t work half as well as it does, but here’s the thing: trout go stupid for it, especially when the midges are thick enough to inhale by accident. I remember one evening on the Madison, watching risers slurp clusters like they were at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Tossed this fuzzy speck into the foam line, and bam. Fish on.

Tying it? Well, it’s almost embarrassingly simple—if you don’t botch the hackle like I did the first three tries. Start with a short shank hook (size 18-22, depending on whether you’re matching gnats or just pissing off your eyesight). Wrap your thread down to the bend, then grab a strand or two of peacock herl—that stuff shimmers like gasoline on a puddle, which is half the magic. Spin it tight around the shank, and boom, you’ve got a body that looks segmented without trying too hard.

Now the hackle. Grizzly, palmered rough and proud. Not too dense, unless you want it to sit like a cork (which, honestly, isn’t the worst idea on choppy water). Wrap it forward, tie it off, and for god’s sake, don’t overthink the head. A drop of cement, and you’re done. Took me a wasted afternoon and a snapped herl strand to learn: less finesse, more confidence.
What’s it fooling? Everything small and annoying, really. Midge clusters, sure—those little black clouds trout lose their minds over—but also solitary gnats, maybe even tiny caddis if you squint hard enough. The herl’s got that undefinable glow, and the hackle kicks just enough to suggest legs or wings or, hell, maybe just something alive. Funny enough, I’ve had days where the #20 out-fished every fancy parachute in my box. Might’ve been the tannic water. Might’ve been luck. Who knows?

Fish it anywhere you’d curse at midges. Slow pools, spring creeks, even stillwater edges where trout cruise like they own the place. Dead-drift it like you mean it, no drag, no funny business—until you see refusal after refusal. Then? Twitch it. Just a hiccup, really.

 Sometimes that’s all it takes to turn lookers into takers. And floatant? Yeah, carry some. Unless you enjoy blowing on your fly like it’s a birthday candle.

Not bad for a pattern you can tie blindfolded after your third whiskey.