Bowfin on the Fly: Mission Accomplished

My mission to catch a bowfin started last year. It was never going to be the most difficult new species to catch. They are very aggressive, get next to no fishing pressure, and the population here in Connecticut has exploded over the last few years. All it would really take was finding a concentration of them and feeding them essentially any streamer or topwater that would fit in their mouths.

Last years efforts were largely unsuccessful. Noah and I had suspicious takes that seemed to us to be bowfin, but at no point did I ever look down in the water and see one, definitively. In Florida we actually saw bowfin but weren't able to get them to eat.

This year, I was blindsided by the appearance of bowfin in river where I fish the herring run. The first I saw was very small, but it would have been enough had I been able to hook it. When I visited in the middle of last week and found not only a couple but a whole bunch of bowfin, I was taken aback. Some of them were exceptionally large too. The first night resulted in one take. The fish was not hooked. I came back the next night fully prepared to target these fish. Within ten minutes, a monster bowfin jumped all over my big white streamer. On the third grab I strip set hard. The fish reacted violently, sending spray eight feet in the air. I kept stripping. Bowfin have very hard mouths, making burying the hook difficult. This time, I didn't do well enough. The fish popped off. I watched it swim off as though nothing unusual had just happened. It was probably 30 inches long and as thick around as my thigh. It would have been exceptionally bigger than the current state record.
Three hours later, I came tight to a different fish. It wasn't anywhere near as big, but it was my first bowfin. Fly rod lifelist  fish #76.

These fish fascinate me. They are the last remaining species of the order Amiiformes. Their last relatives disappeared in the Eocene epoch. Evolution has shaped the last Ammiforme into one of hardiest fish species around. Their hard scaled bodies and bony heads make adults difficult prey to kill. Most also have a pronounced eye-spot on their tail like redfish, based on my observations this is most pronounced on younger, more vulnerable bowfin. Water quality does not need to be perfect for bowfin to survive. In cases of aquatic hypoxia they will outlast other species because they are bimodal breathers, capable of breathing air if necessary. They are both ambush predators and scavengers which makes it possible to fish for them with anything from cut-bait on the bottom to fast moving topwater lures. Their versatility as predators, prehistoric appearance and lineage, and all around toughness makes them, to me at least, a spectacular fish species.

Noah still had yet to catch his own bowfin, so we went out midday on Saturday to search different water in the kayaks.  It wasn't all that long before we were catching largemouth bass.

Then, I saw the first bowfin right off the bow of my kayak, finning gently in place. I dropped my frog on its head and it took with a loud pop. Being just a little more than a rod length away I did not get good leverage, and unfortunately it came unpinned just as soon as it was on. The next four hours were a mess of bass with no other bowfin sighted. Noah and I each caught big chain pickerel that unfortunately refused to be photographed. I also had the largest pike I've ever seen wake behind my frog and refuse it boat side. Then, as the sun set and the wind died, the mosquitoes came out and came out in scary numbers. We hurried out into the lower cove, and there the wind was keeping them down a little more. I had tied on a big dragonfly nymph to attempt to get a carp to round out the day on, and chose to make one last ditch effort while Noah paddled back to the launch. I joked that I'd probably catch a bowfin on the nymph. I blew my first shot at a carp, spooked a few others, then low and behold, just as I was ready to turn back around, I spotted a good bowfin cruising from left to right. I dropped my fly a foot ahead of it and it sucked it in. I set the hook hard and the fish went airborne. A little while later I had boated my second bowfin. 

My catch unfortunately resulted in us staying far longer than we should have, and we got devoured trying to get Noah into one before dark. No matter, we'd be back out again the next day in different water looking for more. 

The first spot we fished produced one blow up on a buzz toad for Noah, and a huge snapping turtle for me. The wind wasn't good and the tide likely had the fish pushed back into the reads, so we decided to leave. Near the boat launch we found proof that there indeed were bowfin in the vicinity. A small one with an osprey puncture right in its head was struggling in the shallows. We hand caught it and dispatched it. 

The second spot very quickly made account of itself when I came up to a tree leaning into the water and saw a large bowfin tearing at a white sucker carcass. It quickly became clear that there was more than one bowfin there, all scavenging off of this dead sucker. Noah and I had unexpectedly gotten thrown into probably the wildest sight fishing scenario either of us had ever seen. Noah got the first take but missed. A bit later I also had a take, but it was more of a refusal. Finally I got something to eat, but to my surprise it wasn't a bowfin, it was a toad largemouth.

While I was photographing that big bass, Noah hooked up and it was the right kind of bite. A beautiful healthy bowfin looking for a chunk of sucker to nibble on. 

Then a half hour later, I got mine. Two fish came over and and glared at my chartreuse leech as I let it fall slowly, and the bigger of the two hammered it. 

After that, current and wind change, we probably made the wrong decisions, and we didn't get into any more fish. But I am smitten with bowfin now, and catching a big one this season is very much a priority. They are such a spectacular game fish. Most definitely not a trash fish.