Latin names always made my eyes glaze over. As a matter of fact, some of my best naps as a college student were taken during zoology class. Although, I did manage to stay awake for the frog and fetal pig dissections.

Today, despite my passion for fooling trout with artificial bugs, I must confess that the detailed entomological aspect of fly fishing also has the potential to bring my eyelids to half mast.

Some fly fishers really dig the bug identification ritual. Big, loud arguments have gotten going streamside as two grown men spar over whether that tiny black speck riding along just beneath the surface is a trico or a midge. This bug-splitting minutia is not for me. I prefer to let greater minds work out the bug calculus. Once a conclusion is drawn, however, as to just what the fish are feeding on I’m not adverse to taking the “expert’s” advice and switching flies.

There is one bug, though, that only the most cavalier trout man can regard with indifference: the green drake, which has been popularly dubbed the “hex hatch.”

To be honest, I have only witnessed a few classic hex hatches on remote trout ponds. Over the years, the best hatches took place on the same pond. The legend is true. When these big mayflys rise to the surface and populate a small trout pond — like a fleet of small sailboats — it is a sight to behold. If the angler is lucky, if the trout still have any stomach space left for these extraordinary mayflys, there is no trout-fishing experience quite like the so-called hex hatch.

Not only do my eyes not glaze over during this pulse-building adrenaline rush triggered by a hex hatch, the latin name of this one spectacular mayfy suddenly becomes of interest. I want to know this bug. I pick it up and take a mental picture of it. Later on, at home, I go the the bug books, read about the Eastern Green Drake and study the photographs.

Bob Leeman, whom I fondly call Mr. Trout, tells about a bizarre bug experience on a trout stream this spring. He witnessed a blizzard, he claims, of huge mayflys that he identified as Hexagenia limbata.

“Bob,” I said, “That just couldn’t be, not in May! The hex hatch is a late June or early July phenomenon. Besides, the Hexagennia limbata is more of a midwestern green drake, right? Are you sure that you weren’t seeing the true Eastern Green Drake, the ephemera guttulata?”

Bob, a laid back kind of guy, not easily provoked, didn’t take the bait. He calmly suggested that he would do some research and get back to me.

Outwardly, I acknowledged Bob’s even-tempered maturity and agreed to await more scientific inquiry. To myself, though, I spat a popular latin idiom, “carpe diem,” and went to my own source: fly fishing author Tom Fuller, the Belchertown Bugman.’

Tom’s take:

Often the confusion over the green drakes involves their family name – all are Ephemeridae. There are actually three that can be confusing and they all occur here. The Michigan caddis is actually a mayfly, the Hexagenia limbata, which most of us in the east call the “Hex hatch”. The Dark Green Drake is the Litobrancha recurvata.The Eastern Green Drake is Ephemera guttulata. It’s still big in the dun stage, but maxes out at about an inch. Body color on the dun is ivory, sometimes with a yellowish or dirty ivory tint to a light olive. The spinner body is ivory with dark markings.

You can also look at the wings of these three to help differentiate them. In the dun stage the Dark Green Drake has dirty brown wings with distinct veining, the spinner is clear but still with the veining; limbata, the Michigan caddis, has olive grey wings with no distinct markings on them in the dun stage and clear wings in the spinner stage (sometimes with purple front edges); the Eastern Green Drake, guttulata, has brown to black mottling on light gray to olive wings in the dun stage and clear wings with brown blotches as a spinner.

Usually, the Dark Green Drake comes off first, but it can come off throughout the summer depending on altitude, water temp, etc. The Eastern Green Drake and the Michigan Caddis generally emerge around the same time, early to mid summer.

For what it’s worth, Mr. Leeman, the big mayfly that I scrutinized a few weeks ago on a Maine trout pond was, ivory-colored with dark markings on the body — without question, an Emphemera guttulata. I rest my case.

We still await Mr. Leeman’s testimony and that of his star, streamside witness, fellow angler Bob Cust.

Tempus fugit, Bob. Tempus fugit.

The author is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal. He is also a Maine Guide, co-host of a weekly radio program “Maine Outdoors” heard Sundays at 7 p.m. on The Voice of Maine News-Talk Network (WVOM-FM 103.9, WQVM-FM 101.3) and former information officer for the Maine Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. His e-mail address is [email protected] and his new book is “A Maine Deer Hunter’s Logbook.”