November, 2022. Angler: Mark Alpert
I was in Vermont for my younger brother's graduation, and only for a couple days. Fishing time was limited. My partner, Haley, was also with me. Options weren't as broad as they might otherwise be. Contingencies aside, when I'm somewhere I don't always get to be I'm going to fish at least a little. With finite time and a limited number of options within hitting distance, my friend Drew Price pulled through for me with a close to sure bet for shorthead redhorse. Having only caught one lone smallmouth redhorse in western Pennsylvania and being interested in the rest of the Moxostoma genus, this seemed as good an option as any. So I dragged my very tolerant girlfriend with me to a Lake Champlain tributary to look for a new species.
Redhorse are a diverse genus of North American suckers that includes more than 20 distinct species. Moxostoma are spread across over a substantial chunk of the Eastern half of the continent. Like their other sucker relatives they are often underappreciated, poorly treated, and frequently badly managed by state fisheries agencies. As in all cases, I just don't get that- they're cool as hell. redhorse are native, they fight hard, live in beautiful rivers and creeks, are often hard to fool, and look darned cool. They don't taste half bad either. What isn't to love? Any time redhorse are an option I perk up. I adore targeting them on the fly and don't get to at all often enough. My confidence in success bordered on certainty given Drew's report and we jetted out the door the moment it looked like we might have time. The drive south to the tributary he suggested was about 45 minutes and we only had a few hours to work with so time was of the essence.
The stream was a lightly-stained freestone over dark grey calcareous shale and blueish limestone from the Ordovician period. Where the stream cut to the bedrock, the step-like fractures allowed sand and gravel from different bedrock layers upstream to collect, and along with algae growth made the riverbed became a rainbow of pastel coloration. Some stretches meandered and featured deep pools with some mud bottom. I was keeping my eyes sharply peeled for any red tails waving in the riffles. The first fish I saw were big smallmouth bass on beds. I half heartedly presented a small Ausable Ugly to the first large one I saw and she ate. The fight was pretty intense as the fish tried to lodge under every large rock in the run.
I continued upstream a little ways, catching a few more bass and a very large white sucker. It was nice to get a native species but I was getting a little worried that the redhorse had managed to make their way out of the system already since I wasn't seeing them. A text from Drew changed the trip... I'd gone the wrong way!
Counter to my instinct to walk upstream, we turned tail and headed down. It didn't take long to encounter a couple of pools absolutely packed full of redhorse. They stood out quite well in both the pools and the riffles, though I found the fish in the shallow fast water entirely too finicky. The pools were more comfortable territory though- I already know how to catch suckers holding in pools, that's pretty much my typical white sucker fishing scenario back at home. I rigged up with an indicator and left on the Ausable Ugly. The redhorse weren't exactly obliging, but after some time I did convince one to eat: another new species thanks to Drew. He's been responsible for two so far this year.
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| Lifelist fish #190: Shorthead redhorse, Moxostoma macrolepidotum. Rank: Species |
After bringing the lifelist up to 190, I relaxed a bit and went about enjoying the action. I caught three more shortheads; one with a couple hangers on in the form of sea lamprey. Unlike the ocean, where lamprey parasitize large fish that are capable of handling the the blood loss, in landlocked environments they can be a big problem to native species. I removed both lamprey from this redhorse accordingly.
Spring 2023 is in the books now as the most frustrating herring run year of my short time chasing this sometimes magical event. It had its moments though, as any year does. And when I think about it, every year is a slog. Long, long night hours are spent casting at nothing for the occasional crazy night of heavy action or just one or two very large fish. And though on the whole this season was frustrating, the highlights really felt special. Though I managed only about a dozen bass from my favorite river, the first of the season there topped out at 41 inches. My goal each season there is to get one 40 incher and I have accomplished that each year since 2018, last year being the standout with a 40" and 43" and a few fished that missed the mark by no more than half an inch. Getting my big fish there was a relief- and lucky given the overall lackluster success I had.
In other parts of the state the story was a little different. My friends Alex and Dave were having an banner year. Twice I fished down their way, and both nights far exceeded anything I saw anywhere on my side of the state during this run. The first night was slow save for a short window at what has become one of my favorite spots to fish in the state. The tide was low and a few alewives were jetting down the riffles to the head of tide, where some would meet their demise. Not only were stripers there to take the desperate little fish. Like miniature fisherman, night herons were visible in silhouette up and down the riffle. It wasn't quite fully dark yet when we got there, but it took hardly four casts to come up with a quality fish. Two 20 pound class fish in quick succession fell to a swung Sedotti Slammer tied with Devlin Blends yak hair. These weren't long fish, they were over-slots but not 40 inchers. They were just absolutely rotund. That short window was enough to make that night special, as only a few more fish came to hand between then and sunrise.
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| Photo Courtesy Alex Peru |
Sometimes its all too easy to ignore what you have right at home. I live so close to a diverse and fishy lake and yet so often I'm travelling an hour or more away to fish for some of the same species I have right by the house. I try to remind myself of this sometimes and get back to the basics, if you will. When I was still in school I'd walk and bike the lake on weekends and during summer break. Carp were the primary target. I got quite good at spotting them, even when moving quite fast. Smallmouth bass were secondary, and really most of the time I'd only fish for them if I wasn't seeing any carp. Three or four shots at tailing fish were reasonable in a morning, three carp to hand was exceptional. The fish weren't big either. But they were tough enough to be good practice. Not unwilling, but finicky enough that often I'd wonder how I couldn't convert. It was exceptionally good practice with the species. I'm certainly not so cocky as to say I have that all figured out by now, far from it. So why not take that morning walk every now and then?
Recently I took to the sidewalk again one early morning, looking into the glare of the sun for the boils and swirls that denote waving tails. Feeding carp reveal themselves in many way... these are the sorts of things I learned out there on those morning walks. Observation showed me that looking for a waving tail in the air was good but not good enough. Many of the fish revealed themselves with the faintest surface disturbances and small, sporadic bubble patches. These local waters are the places where I devised methods for targeting carp that I actually couldn't see, but which were bubbling- to this day I've yet to see a more effective set of strategies from any other angler be devised to target bubblers, and I've managed to put multiple clients on carp that neither they nor I can actually see by fishing to the bubble patches. I also learned that on this lake, not only does substrate dictate nitrogen production but some years I'd simply not see any bubblers at all. This wasn't because there weren't carp feeding there but because the bottom wasn't releasing any gas. All of these little details came to me as I walked- rod in one hand and net in the other -along that walkway I'd trod so many times before.
I ended up getting three good quality shots at fish. The first was a bubbler in a little creek off the main lake, a consistently reliable spot that has given up many carp over the years. It was a difficult shot and, semi predictably, I blew it. I then covered quite a lot of ground before seeing another fish. This one was tailing in tight to a rocky bank. I really thought it would be an easy one if I didn't spook it by making my presence known, but it was too smart for that. On three presentations it gently refused a squirmy hybrid variation by dodging carefully around it, swimming a few feet over, then continuing to feed. It was this sort of behavior that endeared carp to me. I'll never really know how to or be able to catch every feeding carp I see, but every year I get a bit better at it. More than a decade after my first attempts I'd certainly hope to be making a little headway anyway.
The third and final shot was to a bubbler. Bubblers often require a significant number of casts. Since they're generally feeding deeper (otherwise they would just be tailing) bubblers are generally harder to spook. I presented to this one 6 times before it took. I never really saw the take either, the hook set was an educated guess. It often impresses clients when I say "set" and they hook a carp without any visual que. The question often gets asked "how did you see that?" Well, I didn't.
Like many of the carp I'd caught from this lake over the years, this one had a bit of a deformity. I don't know exactly what it is that has caused this and why its so prevalent there. Despite the deformity, the fish was taken as a minor victory on my part and released to mud up the bottom of the lake some more. Though I might not walk the lake daily or even weekly anymore I certainly can't ignore the impact it has had on my growth as an angler and guide.
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
Garth and I were exploring a new backwater with carp and bowfin potential when a call I got a call that I had to take. It isn't especially common that I answer the phone while fishing but if I expect an important call I will take it, or if someone that doesn't normally call does I may answer. But I'll sometimes leave my phone down for days on a long trip and certainly on a day trip. While I talked, I kept my eyes on the water. There'd been a few tailing carp working in some weeded areas. Every now and then one would work its way into a clear spot and tail beautifully. Roughly midway through the call, a shot presented itself that I couldn't refuse. A sizable yellow ghost carp made itself a fantastic target. I crept into position, phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, and managed a good cast. The fish moved on the fly and took. I lifted and it was on. Now I had to battle a roughly 13 pound carp on a 5 weight and 6lb tippet in heavy weeds and not drop my phone in the mud.
It might have been one of my favorite feats of angling prowess... of course I must credit Garth for lending an assist and interpreting wordless directions as well. But I don't think the person on the other end of the line had any idea what was happening on my end at all. I hooked and fought the fish and we landed and photographed it without taking the phone off my ear or interrupting the call. Considering how hard carp are too feed, I'm proud to have managed the task while a significant part of my focus was elsewhere. Though perhaps it isn't the best idea that I take important calls on the water anymore. Not because I can't catch fish, but because when I'm fishing there isn't much that can fully pull my attention way from the water and its surrounding landscape and ecology.
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