My earliest memories of fishing are days with my father catching Brook Trout for Sunday supper. Money was tight, but we knew we were lucky to enjoy one of life'sgreatest delicacies - free for the catching with a worm and basic tackle. At the age of four and five, I had no rod or reel so I occupied my time watching my father stalk trout in little forest pools. I followed behind, looking for clouds of silt that betrayed hiding trout - reaching under the rocks to grab them the way I believe the Weantinock, Potatuck, Schaghticoke, Mohawk and many others fished the same streams years ago (and by that means, also painfully discovered snapping turtles, hellgrammites, water wasps, bullhead spines and crayfish). Eventually I was given a flyrod that was used to dap worms, and I learned to roll cast the heavy line more by accident and necessity than by instruction. My passion for fishing was well established by the time a grade school History teacher offered fly tying and much needed casting lessons, and I was tying and fishing Coachmen, McGintys and Black Gnats at the age of eight while being reluctantly immersed in the colorful history of the sport.
As it turned out, I was fortunate to inherit a bamboo rod at the age of eleven and learned to appreciate Fly Fishing and History simultaneously; for me they are in many ways inseparable. I'm forever grateful for summers camping through the Adirondacks and Maine's Rangeley region as well as Canadian Parks and the Maritimes - I'll never know how my parents managed it - it always seemed there were Brook Trout nearby. Since those days I have traveled quite a bit to fish and just traveled and fished wherever there was water. I got some formal education in Fine Art (gallery) and Marketing - experience in advertising, wholesale, retail and International Marketing and two retail business ownerships but left the city and corporate life behind some time back to restore some rods & work with my hands (furniture). Living just a few minutes from some of the greatest fishing in the East always meant more than any trip, and the trout of the Shepaug or the Housatonic are just a quick ride away.
So, I had a little flyshop some time ago by the name of "the Streamer Flyshop" - the shop closed too soon after it was opened, but the nickname stuck & many folks I fish with just call me 'Streamer'.
Streamer
Wm Abrams - RODMAKER
170 Kent Rd.
Warren, CT 06754Please email for phone number.
in the spirit of Traver
'the Angler'