Ah, the Grey Wulff—now there’s a fly that’s saved my bacon more times than I can count. You know those days when the river’s churning and the fish are rising but your usual dries just get swallowed by the foam? Yeah, that’s when this bushy little hero shines.

So here’s the deal with tying one. I like starting with fine dubbing—grey or tan, doesn’t have to be fancy, just something that’ll fool a trout from three feet away. Then you grab some calf tail fibers for the tail and wings. Wait, let me backtrack—some folks swear by elk hair out West, and hey, that works too, but personally? I think the calf tail gives it that extra kick of buoyancy when the water’s got teeth. Wrap it all up with saddle hackle, nice and bushy—not too tight, though, or you’ll choke the life out of it.

What’s it supposed to be? Well, picture a mayfly, right? Not the dainty little spinners, but those beefier drakes and duns, the ones that look like they’re barely hanging on when the current’s ripping. That’s the Wulff’s sweet spot. The hackle’s not just for show—it’s like a life jacket for the fly, keeping it riding high even when the water’s throwing a tantrum.

Last summer on the Madison, I watched a brown trout ignore every fancy CDC pattern in my box until I slapped on a Grey Wulff. Two drifts later, bam. Fish on. That’s the thing—this fly’s not subtle. It’s loud, it’s proud, and in fast water or those choppy riffles where real bugs get dunked? Man, it’s money.

Eastern tiers might fuss with thinner wings, but out here where the rivers don’t play nice? Give me that bushy silhouette every time. Though some might disagree—hell, that’s half the fun of fly fishing, right? Arguing over fur and feathers while the fish laugh at us. But hey, when it works, it works. And the Grey Wulff? Yeah, it works.