The Rainbow Darter, #200 On The Fly

 Darters are interesting little fish that go ignored by most anglers. Members of the family Percidae, darters share lineage with yellow perch and walleye. If you look at their morphology this isn't terribly shocking, their fin arrangement and build aren't at all dissimilar from perch, with a spikey forward dorsal and big, rounded rear dorsal. Their patterning often matches up pretty similarly too, though it is incredibly varied. Darters are extremally diverse in fact, comprising a subfamily (Etheostomatinae) made up of five genera ( Ammocrypta, Crystallaria, Etheostoma, Nothonotus, and Percina). Of these, I've caught species in two genera: Etheostoma and Percina. Though I live in an area with a notable lack of darters- Connecticut only has two species -I am a big fan of them and when the opportunity arises to target them in areas with more diversity I like to. Of course, they're often very tiny, so it can be a real challenge to get them on the fly. Percina weren't terribly hard as they're larger and a bit aggressive, so longhead darter and logperch were quite easily acquired once I fished around an abundance of each. But the Etheostoma are little bit tricky. And oh boy can that ever be both appealing and irritating. Combine their difficulty with their exceptional diversity and you've got a recipe for a hunched over, frustrated CT Fly Angler with a very sore back sneaking around shallow streams. 

And such was the position I found myself in on a clear, clean flowing mid-sized river in central Ohio this past fall. I knew this area had a number of darters that I'd not yet added to my life list, and I was having no trouble finding a bunch of different ones in the shallows. And some of them were quite ornately colored. In fact, I could already tell that one of the species represented in this spot was the rainbow darter, one of a number of species that are graced with extravagant blue, red, and orange coloration. Their name portrays their beauty, and though they are quite widespread and can be fairly numerous a lot of anglers totally skip over their existence. Brook trout, eat your heart out... if colorful, nearly gaudy elegance is your type, rainbow darters give fontinalis a serious run for their money. Fly fisherman may quickly jump to a salmonid as the prettiest freshwater fish but I struggle to pick between darters and sunfish in terms of the colorful species. 

As I slowly wandered the tail out of a run, examining the bottom carefully, I noted small aggregations of darters around clusters of rocks with vegetation growing on them there were a few species represented though I couldn't identify each. I rigged up carefully: a size 22 hair big with a tiny piece of squirmy worm material affixed to the bend of the hook (darters like something to chew on, I've noticed) and one small shot just a couple inches ahead of it on 6x tippet. Finessing a fly down in front of a tiny darter in this current would be almost akin to dropping a nymph in front of a trout in 10 feet of water in a raging, turbulent flood. It's a very tricky dance that requires precision and patience, one I was already well familiar with. 

The shot placement is a key. If you place a split shot immediately ahead of a fly, it can drop right down to the bottom nd you don't have to control two separate entities down there; the split shot and fly act as one. But some darters like attacking the shot. For some this can almost work in your favor when the fly is right at the shot, eventually they get it in the process of trying to kill the lead ball (it comical, I'm not quite sure where their infatuation with them lies). But some of the really small ones, like the ones I was seeing, my attack the shot once and be done. So I had to play an odd game of keeping the shot far enough away from the fly as not to distract the darter but close enough to have control over where on the bottom the fly settles. Closer means more control, further means less chance the darter just attacks the shot and never cares about the fly. This is, obviously, not an exact science. It requires an immense amount of trial and error. In this case about an hour of it. I had darters attack the shot, run and hide, or hit the fly but not get it in their mouths just right. Persistence pays off though and eventually I did manage to hook one. It was a diminutive but colorful little creature, my first rainbow darter. 

Lifelist fish #200: Etheostoma caeruleum, Rainbow darter. Rank: Species

Though this certainly wasn't the most impressive example to the species, it was exciting to get my first of one of the more well known colorful Etheostoma. When they spawn in the spring the mature males really color up something fierce and I'd very much like to catch one of those. But there's always another fish, isn't there? Darters are just one of a large number of whole families and genera that go largely ignored by the angling world as a while. They flee from the path of completely unaware wading anglers and scuttle for cover as our drift boats shadow the riffle bottom. I don't expect everyone to want to catch two inch long fish on hook and line, but it still surprises me that many just have no interest in learning about them at all. 

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, Jake, Chris, Oliver, oddity on Display, Sammy, and Cris & Jennifer for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Fly Fishing for Quillbacks in Ohio

 My now-partner-then-friend Emily dropped me off next to an unfamiliar river in an unfamiliar town in the middle of Ohio. Unfamiliar to me, that is. Emily had grown up around there, but I'd actually never fished in Ohio before this trip. Now I had about an hour to figure out a short stretch of river full of unknown-to-me species, and there is nothing more exciting to me that literally just that- getting dumped next to a random river full of fish species I'd never caught with a fly rod in hand. A low-head dam below a bridge immediately called to me... these sorts of things are a fish magnets by default, being that they are choke points at best an migration barriers at worst. I had an Ausable Ugly on... what else... and went about tight-lining the spill over. The first fish was a smallmouth bass. Leave it to the aggressive and ever-present Micropterus to beat all else to the fly in such a situation. Unlike home, though, smallmouth were native to this place. These creeks and drainages in Ohio had been teaming with smallmouth for ages before they were dumped in Connecticut. I do love a native fish. 

A couple more smallmouth later I decided to move down into the slower water and look for some suckers. Though they'll often sidle right up to the base of a dam in the faster water in the spring, many of the sucker species will settle back into the deep, slow pools for the summer and fall. That's exactly what I found. In a lovely deep hole bellow a bridge were various redhorse, quillback, and some white suckers. The quillback immediately became my primary target. Quillback carpsuckers (Carpiodes cyprinus) are so named for their similarity in appearance with carp. They aren't carp, but unfortunately the unearned poor reputation carp have long held in this country also carries over to species like carpsuckers and buffalo. Given my exceptional reverence for these species it seriously hurts to see photos of them dead on the bank with holes in them... I won't apologize, bow fishing is a scourge and the bad characters in that community FAR out-weigh the good ones. Every time I see a "carp" being foisted on a spear that is actually a native sucker, quillback or buffalo it gives me both mental and physical discomfort. But these ones were safe, save for a little prick in the lip. At least that was my hope. Quilbacks are notoriously fickle and even more so on an artificial fly. I know a small number of people that have caught them and there are no defined tactics. Unlike bass or trout you can't pick up dozens upon dozens of books, watch hundreds of videos or find magazine articles galore about how to convince a carpsucker to eat a fly... this was something I'd have to find out on my own with whatever time I had left to fish this spot that day. I do love a challenge. 

I stood pretty much on the same rock for the rest of my time there, studying the behavior of the quillback. They were fairly active foragers, moving around and feeding methodically. I noticed that the focused most of their effort is spots that had a little bit of vegetation or small collections of detritus. They sifted through this stuff, presumably looking for tiny insect larvae and nymphs, their small mouths working much the same way a sucker's or carp's does. I estimated that I'd need quite a small fly to dupe one of them, and tied a size 20 Pheasant Tail onto 6x tipped, with two shot just above it. For a while I tried to present to specific fish, and this didn't work at all. Either they ignored the presentation or I lined them and they spooked. Eventually I got smart and realized that they were so methodical with their feeding pattern that if I dropped the nymph stationary on an algae covered rock or in a pile of detritus, one would eventually make its way to the fly. They weren't feeding in the drift anyway, but on stationary things. So I found a suitable spot near where two were feeding and settled my nymph in a clump of moss green algae and waited. It was probably only three minute before a quillback started rooting around in that clump of algae. I payed close attention to my shot- I couldn't see my fly but I could see the weights -and hoped that if the fish picked up my fly they might move. 

My anxiety was high as I watched the fish feed and my shot sit stationary on the bottom. This was one of my most coveted North American fishes; I really, really wanted to catch one of these. My shot never moved though and that individual moved on. I stood there for another five minutes trying not to move my rod too much and dislodge my fly before another moved in. This one seemed to notice the fly and move directly to it. The shot twitched on the bottom and I struck. In retrospect, I hit that fish way too hard. The anticipation had been killing me. The was a bright flash of a brassy color and a momentary sensation of tension, then the fish hurried off and my fly and shot landed in the water behind me with a plop. I slumped my shoulders and groaned. I didn't know if I'd get a better shot than that. 

For a while the quillbacks went quiet. They clearly didn't appreciate that disruption. So I decided to present to some redhorse. These fish were in slack water and up in the column. Bad targets, really, I can't recall ever getting suckers that were resting high in the column to eat. But I'll be darned if the first one I sunk a Walt's Worm past didn't immediately move to it and take! As interested in the quillback as I'd been, I'm an absolute redhorse freak. I adore this diverse genus and the crazy challenge of catching them on flies. 

Lifelist fish #199, Moxostoma erythrurum, golden redhorse. 

Though my time at this spot was about to wind down and I'd failed to catch a quillback, just getting to stand in the midst of an unfamiliar community of fishes and catch a new species was full filling enough. Even better, I had come up with a methodology for targeting quillback with the fly that should be sound and, if I ever encounter them feeding in the same manner again, should produce one. I will target them again, that much is a guarantee. 

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, Jake, Chris, Oliver, oddity on Display, and Sammy for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.

Invasion of the Knobfin Sculpins

 An alien has invaded CT's Pomperaug River and its tributaries. This creature lives in the holes and crevices of the bottom, eating native fish's eggs and young, devouring macro-invertebrates, and breeding like rabbits. This creature is called the knobfin sculpin, Cottus immaculatus; and it hails from the Ozark Mountains of Southern Missouri and Northern Arkansas. Small though it may be, the knobfin sculpin has wrecked havoc where it was introduced accidentally. The native minnow and salmonid numbers in the Pomperaug watershed have crashed, and the is indication that insects have been impacted as well.

Not long ago, Garth and I went to the Pomperaug with a dual mission: first, catch out lifer knobfin sculpins on hook and line. Then, observe the situation in that river and its tributaries and determine if the sculpins have in fact had a significant negative impact. 

The first goal was extraordinarily easily accomplished. The sculpins were very abundant. Looking around larger rocks in the stream bed I could see holes with little cleared out patches of sand or pea gravel at their entrances. I knew right away what these were, as I've caught slimy sculpins and mottled sculpin already and have experiences their habits. These were sculpin "dens" and there were surely fish under these rocks. Indeed, jigging a nymph in front of these holes often resulted in a knobfin rushing out and taking the fly. Garth and I each had our lifers with relative ease. 

Life List Fish #187: Knobfin sculpin, Cottus immaculatus, Rank: Species

Now, there are two ways to catch sculpins that live under rocks. The first, the polite method if you will, is what I just described. You knock on the door, gently wiggling your offering at the entrances of the sculpins' homes. The second method is a bit more rude. You can rip the roof right of their houses. If you are careful, you can lift in-stream rocks, revealing the sculpins underneath, and believe it or not they will still eat. I think that says something about just how ravenous they are. I should add, absolutely do not move rocks in CT streams that have slimy sculpins. They are a species of special concern in this state and such actions are highly detrimental. On the Pomperaug though? Have at it. De-housing invasives isn't exactly bad. 

After catching a few knobfins I set about trying to see what else might be kicking around. Garth and I both saw a handful, and I really mean a handful, of blacknose dace and juvenile white suckers. And I mean very few. In a river the size of that which we were on these species should have occupied certain niches heavily, such as tailouts, eddies, and backwaters. We didn't see as many as we should have. The only trout present seemed to all be of hatchery origin, and subsequently don't portray a successful ecosystem. I only observed adult white suckers in one spot, and not many of them. Fallfish or creek chubs and their spawning mounds were absent. No other minnows, darters, or shiners were observed. Insect levels seemed low. 

It truly does seem that the knobfins had invaded this habitat. They are the quintessential invasive. Thankfully, unlike some introduced species, nobody is so obsessed with fishing for them that they're inclined to advocate for their continued protection. There could be a problem, however, if someone thinks they'd make good bait and moves them elsewhere, releasing them when they're done for the day. No live bait should be moved from water to water. Live bait should not be released alive. Mottled sculpins need to stay where they are now and spread no further. If they are moved, the consequences could be shocking. The Pomperaug certainly is a different ecosystem now, and a much less healthy one. What exactly its future is remains unseen. With at least one listed insect, a seemingly extirpated brook trout population, and ever dwindling native fish biomass, it doesn't look good. 

 Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, and Jake for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.

False Albacore Fly Woes: Bigeye Scad

 

Time for yet another day with tunny around and me not catching. Yeah, this was day six. My sixth day with tunny around and no tunny to show for it. This time the conditions felt a bit better and there was at least bait present, though no he ideal bait. Peanut bunker are only the ideal bait if the tunny actually eat them, and I've only seen it happen a handful of times. It seems to be far more common on the south side of the Cape and around the Elizabeth Islands. Maybe the size of the peanuts varies as one go up the coast and the Connecticut and Rhode Island peanuts are bigger and less appealing to the tunny when they get here. What was strange though was how willing the chub mackerel seemed to be to pick of a peanut. I dragged flies below the bait and picked off the first chub mackerel of the year- very late compared to the last four. I was using a 12 weight though and the fights were subpar. 

It's a bit regrettable that I'd still yet to get even a bonito, Spanish mackerel, or frigate before I got those chubs, but at least a scombrid had found it's way to my fly. 2021 had shaped up to be an odd year. 

As the morning progressed so did my frustration as I watched a couple of casters pick off tunny on epoxy jigs. There just wasn't anything for it, I could get my fly to the lane the fish were running but I could pull it through it and that's what really matters. Confounded by some of the same line twist and tangling issues that had already plagued me this season, I started to consider giving up. Then I caught something interesting. 

Bigeye scad are most numerous in tropical regions around the world. There are a lot of species of scad, including yellowstripe scad, mackerel scad, and torpedo scad, but I'm primarily familiar with bigeye due to their presence on the East Coast. In Florida they're a commonly used bait species and called goggle-eye. It isn't unusual for some bigeye scad to wander up the Gulf Stream and end up in parts north. This year I'd seen a few examples from New Jersey. Now, I was holding one from Southern Rhode Island. It had latched onto the Surf Candy I was fishing, a fly not much shorter than it's own body length. Unknowingly it had put me just 15 fish away from #200 on my lifelist. Yup, another wandering tropical species proved that my tunny obsession was worthwhile despite the fact that I couldn't seem to catch a little tunny.

Lifelist Fish #185, Bigeye scad, Selar crumenophthalmus. 

With my first scad ever on the books, I was satisfied enough to stop torturing myself and walk back to the car. Well, it was really only a temporary cessation in torture. I'd be back in fruitless action soon. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, Streamer Swinger, and Noah for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.

False Albacore Fly Woes: Lizardfish

 My third day targeting tunny I had limited time. I had a short window to fish before I needed to go to work. Fish were present- both bonito and tunny -right upon my arrival. The were feeding in very slick water, often a recipe for picky eaters. I felt I got a few shots the should have been seen but I'm not sure. 

I was fishing with a gartside gurgler. This often isn't pegged as a tunny or bonito fly but these fish love lures that skitter on the surface, so a fly that skitters on top is a logical choice. I've had days where a gurgler really saved me from skunking. Notably, back in 2017 when the tunny were actually numerous and widespread, one of my best days saw numerous tunny in slicked out conditions very willing to eat gurglers but not much else. 

Unfortunately this time my tricks didn't work, at leas not for tunny. What I did get, interestingly enough, was a new species. On one retrieve my fly came in with what initially seemed like weeds on it. Upon closer inspection it was actually a fish! Specifically, and inshore lizardfish. This is a species I've expected in Florida for years now, where they are abundant and at times considered a pest. Instead I'd caught my lifer on a gurgler in 10 feet of water in Connecticut... very strange. 

Lifelist fish #184, Inshore lizardfish, Synodus foetens. Rank: Species

Lizardfish aren't completely unfamiliar fish in the Northeast. They're known to occur in the same are I was fishing most years, though 2021 has certainly seen a relative abundance. Though aggressive lizardfish hunt from the bottom of the water column, as evidenced by their head structure and eye position. They are ambush predators that attack prey from below, concealed against a mud or sand bottom. Adults reach lengths over a foot, with females generally being larger than males. A lizardfish's mouth is full of small teeth, and I imagine being bitten by one would be a little unpleasant. They are  very cool little fish honestly and I wouldn't mind catching more of them.

I've ended up encountering lizardfish repeatedly this season, and that has been quite interesting. But for the third day I had to be content with a couple of them and simply watching the tunny and bonito slip by, unwilling to eat what I was presenting. It was starting to feel like I'd forgotten how to catch these fish, though it was still only the beginning. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, Streamer Swinger, and Noah for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.

Chesapeake Bay Multispecies Fly Fishing

 Noah and I did an eel pickup down in Maryland a little while back. It was a one stop shop and we had a fair time window before the scheduled pickup, so we of course decided to fish first. Noah had already fished the area on previous pickup trips, so he had a pretty good idea of where we should fish. He'd caught spot, white perch, and some exceptionally tiny striped bass previously but we hoped to add Atlantic croaker and some other species to that list. 

We awoke in muggy conditions at our hotel and drove to the area we'd fish in darkness. Upon arrival, there were vague signs of false dawn but it was mostly still dark. The little public fishing dock we'd found had a light on it that was attracting some needlefish, which proved too finicky for us to catch. It took a while before we were actually catching anything. The spot croaker came along first and they were a lifer for me. 

Lifelist fish #181: Spot croaker, Leiostomus xanthurus. Rank: Species

I was using the 1wt, and on such light fly gear that little spot was a fun scrap. I was essentially nymphing, using BHHESH and bouncing along the pilings. Sometimes I'd make short casts and figure eight retrieve. Both strategies worked fine. As the sun rose the action picked up a bit.

Working long the bulkead towards the exit of what appeared to be an old boat basin I caught something different. It was clearly another small drum of some sort and certainly a new species but for a while we weren't sure what it was. Noah did a bit of research on the way out and determined that these were American silver perch. 

Lifelist fish #182: American silver perch, Bairdiella chrysoura. Rank: Species

As things progressed we got more spot, more silver perch, and soon some extremely tiny striped bass and some pumpkinseeds as well. The water in this part of the Chesapeake was just fresh enough that there were a few sunfish kicking around. Catching them adjacent to the other species would seem stranger to me had I not already experienced catching bluefish, stripers, pumpkinseeds, and common carp on the same day in the same estuary in CT. The tininess of the stripers was to be expected, since the Chesapeake is the most important spawning ground for striped bass on the East Coast. Unfortunately it is also one of the most environmentally damaged waters I have ever seen. The Chesapeake is being killed from pesticides and nutrient runoff at an alarming rate. It is also being severely over-fished. It's unfortunate that this is far too often ignored as a part of the equation in the decline of striped bass stocks, especially when you talk to fisherman. 

After a little while we decided to move just a little bit south to see if we could find something different. Indeed we did, under a bridge not far away. Tiny bass were blitzing on silversides and juvenile spot in the shadow of a bridge. We began hammering them, as well as the white perch that the were schooled up with. 

It was fast fishing that kept my 1wt bent and the little click and pawl reel singing, and in time I also discovered that there were quite a few spot hanging around as well. I actually caught them by indicator nymphing. I employed this tactic in salt water in Florida to great affect last March, and indicator fishing in saltwater is something I intend to delve deeper into soon. Float fishing saltwater isn't non-existent but it isn't common either, and using an indicator while saltwater fly fishing is even less frequently done. The possibilities interest me. 

Noah was fishing a small soft plastic on a jig and mostly catching schoolies and white perch. Lots of them, actually. They were pretty fired up. I kept with my nymphs, but switched up when Noah caught something that surprised us both- a speckled trout! Speckled trout aren't unheard of in the Chesapeake but it was pretty far from my mind when considering likely species in the are we were fishing. It was a tiny little thing, but any speckled trout is a speckled trout and it would be a lifer for me. I up-sized a bit and after more of the same old same old, I eventually and pulled up a baby trout! I'd missed so many opportunities to catch this pretty, toothy drum species in Florida. I honestly didn't think for a second my first speckled trout would come from Maryland. 

Lifelist fish #183: Spotted seatrout, Cynoscion nebulosus. Rank: Species.

None of these fish were big. None of them were rare either. They were definitely all fun on the 1wt though. It's unfortunate that the Chesapeake Bay is in such a bad way. If its possible to have this much fun there now, I can't even imagine how good it was years ago. Like the Everglades and so many other places, we have lost so much and continue to lose so much more. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, Streamer Swinger, and Noah for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.

Brood X: Fly Fishing the Magic Cicadas

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, and Noah for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. I truly would not be able to keep this going without you wonderful folks!

 Our story begins in the cold, damp, soil of a forest in the Mid Atlantic. In this soil stirs an alien creature with big eyes, monstrous looking legs, and a thick abdomen. He has been in this dirt for most of his life, but that is about to end. Something draws this little alien creature upward, right to the surface, where he then climbs up the nearest tree trunk. He then leaves his subterranean shell in favor of a perhaps even more alien, winged form. This little black, orange, and red bug then flies up into the tree canopy and begins to... scream. He screams as loud as he can. In time he is joined by thousands, then millions of his own brethren, creating a deafening chorus. 

These little creatures are periodical cicadas (also known as magic cicadas), and they do this every 17 years. They are not all the same species. Three different cicada species make up Brood X, which emerged to breed, lay eggs, and then die this spring throughout large parts of the Mid Atlantic and Midwest. The event is a special one that would be interesting even if the bugs didn't end up creating some very unique fishing. Towards the end of the show I made my way south, seeking the cicadas and everything else occurring in the wake of their chaotic emergence. I'd been fascinated by periodical cicadas long before I'd ever picked up a fly rod, and this was to be a very exciting trip for one totally obsessed nature nerd.

I made it a substantial distance into Maryland before I encountered the first periodical cicadas. Near the town of Thurmont I began to see cicadas flying around. I stopped and found a bunch of dead ones in a parking lot. It was a cold morning, a lot chillier than the cicadas seemed to prefer, so I wasn't yet hearing their trademark singing.

I wandered around for a while before I found both a huge number of cicadas and fish actively feeding on them. I was on a river I'd fished years ago but a part of it I hadn't visited back then. There was a substantial clay bank with overhanging trees creating shade at a bend. The current was lazy and the surface slick. Fish were sporadically rising to cicadas drifting down the river. 

Some of the bugs struggled, flailing on the surface and buzzing in an agonizing sort of way. Some just succumbed and floated unmoving. Not every cicada was eaten by a fish, but there wasn't much pattern to the feeding. Sometimes a flailing bug was the target, sometimes a still one. At times cicadas floated through unmolested for five minutes, maybe more. At other points not a single one made it past the catfish and bass that were in there. 

Catching these fish wasn't as easy as I would have liked. Precise drifts and long casts in tight quarters were necessary. Hooking the catfish also took some experience I didn't yet have- how often can you find channel cats free-rising for insects to practice on? It certainly isn't their most common feeding behavior. I missed many, but caught plenty as well. Catfish on dry flies... this was exactly the sort of thing I'd made the drive for. 

The smallmouth present in the spot weren't quite as gung-ho about the cicadas as the catfish, which may have been because the were smaller and were already about to pop; they were so full of bugs they all looked like little footballs. 

After seemingly depleting that source of active fish, I decided to explore a small tributary nearby to see if it might harbor some species I'd not yet caught. Just up from the mouth was a chub mound occupied by a pair of average sized river chubs, a species I'd first caught last summer in western Pennsylvania. I didn't have real micro fishing gear with me, so wasn't equipped to catch the dace and darters that were around the mound. 

I continued upstream hoping to encounter some mounds with other species, or perhaps fish schooled in a deep pool. I found both. In fact, a lot of fish were on mounds in this little creek. Most were river chubs, with a few super colorful common shiners mixed in. I was having a hard time catching anything but did eventually get a fairly run-of-the-mill small river chub. Since that isn't a species we have in Connecticut, it was cool to catch one again. 

All the while, the cicadas were screaming in the tree canopy. It was loud and constant, and would soon follow me even when there were no cicadas singing around me. 

I eventually found another chub mound loaded with fish and began working it. I caught a small river chub, then the largest and most unusual looking fish in the school took my nymph. A gnarly looking male of whose identity I wasn't sure of at the time came to hand. I now know it was a Central stoneroller, a quite trick species to catch on hook and line let alone on the fly, and a new species for me. My 180th life list fish was a totally unexpected one!

Lifelist fish #180, Central stoneroller, Campostoma anomalum. Rank: Species

With a satisfying and surprise lifer out of the way, I continued on my quest for fish chowing on periodical cicadas. Now I was looking for carp. It would prove to be a very rewarding challenge. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Goldfish On The Fly

 Goldfish are a notable and often problematic invasive species found throughout the world. They are native to East Asia, were selectively bred to create the vibrantly colored ornamental variations seen today, and spread around the world for hundreds of years. They are one of the most popular aquarium fish and one of the most widespread domesticated fish. In the wild, goldfish can cause significant problems where they are not native. They reproduce rapidly and despite often being orange and poorly suited to remaining hidden, they quickly overpopulate. Though goldfish are certainly not apex predators, their presence usually disrupts whatever ecosystem they are released in. 

I’ve encountered goldfish sporadically throughout the years in CT waters, but never any big enough to catch on the fly. Then, one day this spring, while looking for water snakes with my friend Bruce, we spotted a school of goldfish in a small public pond. I’ve since returned three times- once on my own and twice with Noah -specifically to fish for those goldfish. On the first visit I didn’t get any goldfish but I was able to determine what species were in the pond. Three that I saw were native fish: golden shiners, brown bullhead, and pumpkinseed sunfish. Two more, other than the goldfish, were invasive species: common carp and mosquitofish (whether they were eastern or western I am not sure, but western is more likely as westerns are the only of the two species so far confirmed in CT). There was only one common carp in the pond, an 18 pound or so fish likely introduced intentionally with the hopes it would do something to control weed growth. 

On the second trip, Noah and I were more strategized. We brought bread to chum in the goldfish. The golden shiners and bullheads got to it first, and we got a couple bullheads each. It took a long time for any goldfish to come around. Eventually some did. I had on a size 16 Walt’s Worm under an indicator, but interesting fish would lose interest in the fly as soon as it sank to depth and suspended. They seemed far more interested in a moving fly. This was interesting to me because I’d seen the same behavior from lake chubsucker, a North American native fish. Lake and creek chubsucker both share a nearly identical niche with goldfish and are visually, anatomically and ecologically similar; a clear example of convergent evolution. 

Eventually, I managed to get one of the two goldfish that were spending time in our baited area to take my little nymph, and after no fight at all I had lifer #178 at hand. It was certainly a pretty fish, ornately colored and lustrous. This fish was also completely unnatural: no undomesticated, uncultured, native goldfish would look anything like this, nor would such a fish be swimming in a pond in Connecticut were it not for human intervention. For some reason I really liked that little fish and felt compelled to catch more. When Noah wasn’t able to get his lifer on the first attempt, it was a good excuse for me to return for more. 

Lifelist fish #178, goldfish, Carassius auratus. Rank: Species.

On attempt two, we brought corn as well as bread. Our justification for that was how disinterested in the floating bits of bread the goldfish were and how hard it was for Noah to keep bread on the hook. Bread still helped draw in the hungry masses, and we had some goldfish come into the swim much sooner than we had the previous trip. This time I focused on golden shiners before the goldfish showed interest. I’ve become increasingly more obsessed with that species lately, as well. Unfortunately this pond seems not to hold any large ones. 

Noah got the first goldfish- a lovely wild-type. That was exactly the color expression I wanted to catch, as it would be a nice contrast with the cultured ornamental version I’d already caught. I ended up getting three goldfish on the fly: a bright orange one, another with orange and black patterning, and an almost wild looking but still fairly colorful individual. They were actually surprisingly willing to eat and even chase a nymph. If it stopped moving, they lost interest. This is of course what we’d already observed on the trip before, but it was nice to know that behavior wasn’t a fluke. 

Eventually I broke down, put on a piece of corn and caught a true wild-type. I’m not sure if these goldfish had simply been present and reproducing long enough for the more natural color genetics to arise or if some wild type individuals had been put in the pond originally. There wasn’t a notable variety of sizes, so I can’t be sure these fish are actually reproducing in that pond. 

Catching those goldfish coincided with a general urge to catch colorful cyprinids. I’ve got this strange, previously non-existent compulsion to fish for ornamental fish. Next on the list, something I’d been after for years: mirror carp. Another genetic variation cultivated for ornamental purposes. 

Until next time, 

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, and Noah for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version. 

Edited by Cheyenne Terrien