A life-sized dust-bunny lay limp on my kitchen table – trout flies, perhaps a thousand of them from half a dozen fly boxes, emptied for the pre-season ritual of re-organizing one's fishing vest, a sort of spring-cleaning for anglers.

Giant-sized streamers as long as my pinky mingled with midges tied on size 20 hooks straight out of a Lilliputian's tackle box. Elegant Catskill dries with perfectly coiffed hackles stood hook-to-hook with fuzzy Hare's Ear nymphs that resembled little more than pocket lint.

As I began the daunting task of disentangling this mass of fur, feathers, and steel, it occurred to me how few of these flies I actually use anymore. In fact, many hadn't seen the water in years.

So I made a bold resolution for the coming trout season: I would fish with just one fly box stocked with a Spartan collection of essential flies. Each pattern would be selected in pairs, so if I broke one off on a good fish or lost it to a snag I would still have a back-up. Replacements would be tied on an as-need basis.

To hold this utilitarian collection, I chose an old aluminum Wheatley fly box unearthed in an antique store. Though it had darkened with age to a battleship gray patina, its celluloid, spring-loaded windows for each dry fly compartment still worked, and its generous fleece liner would hold just enough nymphs and streamers.

Then I began the selection process, deciding to work in chronological order with early season patterns, before advancing my way deeper into the calendar year. Since dry flies rarely produce in the cold waters of early April, I turned my attention first to nymphs and streamers.

Easily a hundred nymphs stared back at me from the first fly box. Flashback Pheasant Tails, Zug Bugs, Bead Head Sparkle Caddis Worms and other strange mixes of wispy marabou, fur and turkey wing stood at-the-ready like battalions of miniature soldiers.

I immediately grabbed pairs of Hare's Ear Nymphs in sizes 10 through 14. Though they come in virtually any color, from coal black to tulip yellow, my favorite is tied with olive sparkle dubbing, which seems to catch light when drifted through deep holes and bubbly riffles. Plus, most insects I discover squirming under rocks in trout streams seem to have at least some olive in them.

For smaller sizes I chose two Bead Head Caddis Worms in size 16 and 18, again in olive, along with the more streamlined size 16 Pheasant Tail Nymph. During those rare times when trout get selective about smaller subsurface tidbits, you can out-fish your friends with either pattern – which of course makes them essential.

For larger flies, I selected both brown and golden stonefly nymphs in size eight. These are the patterns I think of when I see a rocky riffle flowing into a dark, swirling logjam. Two specialty nymphs I would also not want to be without include the purplish, streamlined Isonychia, which large rainbow trout seem to knock silly when it's twitched through fast water, and the Green Drake Emerger, another big fish producer.

Paring down streamers turned out to be easy since I hardly ever fish with them. Some anglers labor through the early season throwing huge weighted Zonkers or Marabou Muddler Minnows, hooking the occasional heavy brown in rivers like the West Branch of the Delaware or lower Beaverkill. I opt to save my casting arm for May and June. Nevertheless, a pair of size-eight black Marabou Muddlers made the cut just in case. If all goes well, I plan to use neither.

For dry flies, the list grew predictably longer, though I still believe that a good cast beats the latest "hot" pattern every time. I began by choosing three classic Catskill patterns: the size 14 Dark Hendrickson, size 10 Quill Gordon – somber, early season flies full of tradition – and of course the Adams, but only in a size 18. A very good trout angler once told me that an 18 Adams fished on a 12-foot leader works when all else fails. I still believe him. The only other traditional hackled flies that made it in the box were Blue-Winged Olives in size 14 through 18. On overcast, drizzly days, a supply of olives can be as essential as your rod and reel.

For good measure I threw in two Parachute Adams in size 12 and 14. I can think of at least half-a-dozen fast-water pools where big browns wait in ambush for these low-floaters every season.

The next dozen patterns included variations on one simple, underrated fly called The Usual. It's tied from the kinky fibers found in a snowshoe hare's foot, which gives it an extremely "buggy" albeit unattractive appearance. I've yet to see one for sale in any fly shop or catalog, probably because they look so awful. The ones I use have a body of synthetic dubbing in colors to imitate whatever is hatching. The snowshoe hair wings and tail can also be colored with a permanent magic marker. I selected several Sulfurs from size 14 through 18, pairs of March Browns and Cahills in size ten, along with size eight Green Drakes and Brown Drakes.

Among the dozens of available caddis patterns, including some very realistic imitations that use tented duck-quill wings, I chose the simple Elk Hair Caddis in size 14 through 18. The smallest ones catch the largest trout. The opposite may hold true for Stimulators, which imitate skittering, clumsy adult stoneflies. I picked a behemoth size six and a slightly more modest eight. Twitching these bulky flies through promising runs in June and early July then watching the violent surface strikes they trigger, may be the most exciting trout fishing of all.

Finally, I topped the box off with Polywing Spinners in size 10 through 18 with white or rust-colored bodies. They work best when trout line up in the tail-outs of pools to sip spent mayflies after dark. Having the eyesight of a great- horned owl helps locate both rising trout and your fly.

With the dust bunny now just slightly smaller, I swept the remaining patterns into their original fly boxes. Most would sit out the season on a shelf; others might get called in as reserves. Or I might panic mid-season, and scramble for the safety net of a thousand flies. But for now, one vintage fly box, filled with just six dozen of my favorite trout patterns, felt good sitting alone in my vest.