Connecticut Tiger Trout: Hypocrisy

CT DEEP stocked tiger trout this year for the first time in a number of seasons. Tiger trout are a hybrid between brook trout and brown trout, and though they do occur in the wild, they do not occur naturally because nowhere on the planet do native brook trout populations overlap with native brown trout populations. I've caught stream born ("wild") tiger trout in CT twice. I've seen two others caught by friends, and photos of others. But most tiger trout caught by anglers in CT are hatchery fish. DEEP stands for "Department of Energy and Environmental Protection." What is a state agency in charge of environmental protection doing placing non-native, non-natural hybrid salmonids in a large number of bodies of water? It certainly has nothing to do with protecting the environment, though thousands of fisherman haven't the slightest inkling of that and are more than happy to have fish to catch. And tiger trout are prized fish. The state stocks fewer of them, just as they stock fewer 24 inch trout than 10 inch trout, so they aren't as easy to catch as the average rainbow. But that's pretty much the only reason any hatchery trout is harder to catch than any other hatchery trout, because they're all starting from the same baseline when they leave that truck and enter the river... except that tiger trout are a hybrid and their hybrid vigor is expressed by voracious eating. I've had hatchery tigers take more than a dozen whacks at a mouse in daylight, get hooked, come unglued well into the fight, then come back and slap the fly again the very next cast. This is a problem. Not only is the state stocking an unnatural hybrid trout, they are stocking one that is a voracious and indiscriminate feeder into waters with native species, sometimes even at-risk native species. This is extremely hypocritical of an environmental protection agency. But they are payed to do what the people ask. And the people evidently want more tiger trout. 

In mid fall I was fishing on local waters, catching plenty of both non-native hatchery fish and native hatchery fish (brook trout, in this case), including tigers. The tigers were impressive looking fish, and I'd hesitate to call them ugly. Plus they were fun to pull on. I couldn't help but feel there wasn't anything legitimately special about them. It didn't take any special knowledge or skill, they were there and if I put a fly past them they ate it. Really they shouldn't have been there. If I could have snapped my fingers and caught nothing but fallfish this day, I'd gladly have done so. I do understand that many anglers would be thrilled to catch these tigers and would scoff at the idea of catching fallfish instead. But that's the whole problem. And it's a huge problem. 

Male hatchery brook trout

Female hatchery brook trout.

The irony is, though I'd gladly see not only tiger trout but all hatchery trout in CT gone, I still post photos of them, write about fishing for them, tie flies for them, and will even guide for them. I profit off of them. But I can't promote nor support any such stocking program. Am I a hypocrite too? Maybe a little. But I'm a wild native fish advocate first and foremost. It's why I'm now on the board of the new Connecticut Chapter of Native Fish Coalition. I want to see meaningful change, and the recognition of the importance of the fish species that have always been here. Although extremely unlikely, I dream of the day every cent spent on raising and distributing non-native hatchery fish is spent instead on habitat restoration, study, and education for native fish species. 

That would be an incredible thing. I can only hope, and fight. And that I will do. 

Later the same day after I'd caught those stocked tiger trout, Noah and I fished some different streams. We caught nothing that hasn't swam in CT waters since the glaciers receded and fish took their hold on the rivers left behind. These species belong here. They're important. I was far more excited by them than I was those tiger trout.

I hope over the years my passion and reverence for wild fish and especially wild native fish has been clear in these pages, these hours upon hours of writings about fishing and about life. And I hope to continue that as long as I can. In the final hours of 2020, I'd like to thank all my patrons for aiding in the continued existence of this blog. I really could not keep this going without your help. Thank you so, so much. And to everyone who reads and comments, thank you as well. I hope 2021 treats you all gently -we deserve it. Happy New Year everyone. 

 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, and Geof 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 

EP Peanut Butter for Backwater November Blitzes

 First of all, Happy Holidays everybody! I hope you've had and are having as good a holiday season as you could under the circumstances. Obviously things still aren't going fabulously, but it's best to keep our spirits up. I hope you are getting some fishing time between family Zoom calls.

This year saw one of the most drawn out fall runs in recent memory. There were still blitzing stripers to be found in December, and in November finding action just took a little less searching than it typically would most years. On the 13th though, I barely had to search at all before I found stripers and hickories blowing up in the backwaters. It was one of those dreary fall days that felt really fishy, and if I'd put in the effort I might have been able to find larger fish somewhere out front. Time wasn't in abundance though so I took what I had in front of me, which was schoolies eating peanut bunker. 

Such circumstances call for Enrico Puglisi's Peanut Butter. Believe it or not, I'd not even fished an EP fly until Ian Devlin handed me a rod with one last fall. I'm not sure why I'd been so slow to pick up on their usefulness. Now I've got a box filled exclusively with EP flies. The takes on the Peanut Butter when bass are eating juvenile menhaden are fully committed. Rarely ever do they seem to not suck the fly in on the first attempt. 

Ian's preferred retrieve when fishing this fly in peanut blitzes- and it does seem to work best for me as well- is a slow and steady two hand draw. If I get the fly where it needs to be and retrieve it that way, I'm essentially assured a take.  

The only drawback to EP fibers are their fouling tendencies. It is paramount to carry either a brush or velcro to undo the tangles in the fibers, either after a fish has mangled the fly or a cast has spun it up. Without this tool, fishing these flies becomes exceptionally irritating and darn near impossible. A piece of velcro lives in it's own compartment in my EP box, and without it I'd be lost. 

I'm very much looking forward to applying EP flies to black bass and scombrids next year. Black bass especially. I got a few good smallmouth this year and I'm really thinking I ought to get back into targeting both largemouth and smallmouth. I used to be pretty good at it, now I'd consider myself a mediocre bass fisherman.

 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, and Geof 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. 

Mouse Eaters in November

 I'd not yet fished at all on November 9th. It was a warm clear night; uncommon conditions for the time of year; and I was keen to take advantage. Typically such nighttime temps in late fall come  front passage. Rain, fog, and low clouds are typically associated. None of these things would be bad but a clear warm night is sometimes preferable when night fishing for trout. And that's what I was doing this time. I've been intent on pushing the boundaries of night fishing for salmonids, and one of those boundaries is the time of year. Last winter I caught a lot of trout after dark so it's proving a worthwhile endeavor. Unfortunately I've been mostly limited to waters close to home, which are on the whole put-and-take trout streams. Unnatural though these fish are they at least have provided me some insight before I can get to some wilder fisheries. 

I started out drifting a woolly bugger, a method proven in a lot of conditions and during different seasons. I caught a small rainbow on the second cast and another a few casts later. It then promptly stopped producing takers.

On probably the 30th cast without any sort of grab, I heard something swirl just downstream and started to wonder. I plucked a Master Splinter out of my box and tied it on in place of the bugger. 

It only took three casts.

As I released that fish I chuckled quietly to myself about how unnatural it was. I wouldn't put it past a wild brown trout or brookie to take a swipe at a mouse in mid-November under such unseasonably warm conditions, but it would take a lot more doing to find a willing one. By contrast, I hooked a dozen hatchery rainbows on a mouse this night. Unfortunately I don't think I can use that as any sort of benchmark, these fish just weren't behaving as stream born trout or char would. 

Regardless of the unnatural behavior and ecologically unsound reality of these hatchery rainbows, it was funny to catch trout on the surface late at night so far into the fall season. It is probably worth noting that it is possible. 

On a related note, anyone have have any good recipes for stocker trout? 

 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, and Geof 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. 

A Hike Through Rattlesnake Country

This is an entirely fishless post, but I hope you will all enjoy it. 

Back in September, my friend and mentor Bruce and I took a strenuous hike through an important piece of Northeast timber rattlesnake habitat. 

I've been observing timer rattlesnakes in Connecticut since either 2012 or 2013; I can't remember which year I saw my first, but I can remember the moment like it was yesterday. I was with my Dad and my brother, out doing photography in the woods, and my dad saw it first. It was, as I now understand, a large gravid female yellow phase. She was half tucked under a rock, but we could see enough to get a more than strong enough impression of her magnificence. I can't put into words what it's like to see your first timber rattlesnake -especially if you are keenly intrigued by the natural world- it's shocking. Jaw dropping. Eye widening. 

I needed to see more. And upon next returning to that exact spot, I did. I had no idea at the time but that little outcropping happened to be an important summer brooding area, and my next visit, a year later, was at exactly the right time. I walked up to the spot to see not just one or two snakes, but seven adult timber rattlesnakes distributed around the place. My prior awe was taken to a new level and I was hooked. I kept going back to that spot over the years and usually saw a timber or two. Then, last year, on my first visit to that spot, I met Bruce. I think we were both a little suspicious of each other at first, certainly him more so of me. But we hit it off pretty quickly. We are cut from a very similar cloth, Bruce and I. We go about observing wildlife with the same intent, drive, and care. And I think we both care more about these snakes than we do ourselves. I measure my own worth in my ability to preserve and protect these animals. If I leave the world without having done everything possible to make sure timber rattlesnakes are still in the CT hills, I've gone wrong somewhere along the line. Bruce and I are both very protective of these snakes and their habitat, suspicious of any human activity around them, and weary of our own impacts. We are also driven to see them and learn as much as we can, and that was our intent on that calm, warm September day. Neither of us had hiked the habitat before. We sought to add to our body of knowledge and experience.

We weren't there specifically for rattlesnakes, actually. Our goals were more broad. This same habitat was shared by a number of other species we were interested in seeing. However, the first snake found more than an hour in to the trip, was something neither of us expected. I walked int a clearing to see Bruce looking down into a blueberry bush, saying "that is not what I expected to see up here". I walked over and looked into the same bush. There coiled off the ground in the branches was a beautiful ribbon snake. Ribbon snakes are a very wetland oriented species. Up here; at least a mile from the nearest large vernal pool on a high dry mountaintop ledge; this species was a very surprising sight. 

It's things like this that keep me obsessed. I may never know what exactly had drawn that snake to that spot. But it was there, coiled in the branches, suspended off the ground, doing what I'd seen ribbon snakes do before. Just over a ledge instead of over the edge of a wetland. 

We continued our search, hoping from ledge to ledge, looking around rocks and logs, in blueberry bushes, next to stumps... it was tiresome and not as fruitful as we might have hoped, but eventually I heard Bruce call out, headed over to where he was and he'd found a beautiful adult timber. It was nestled next to a cover rock with a load of fallen limbs making photography very difficult, but no encounter with a healthy timber rattlesnake ends without me smiling. 

Seeing that snake really got our hopes up, we thought we'd soon find some others. This was new land to us though, and even on our home territories we'd both had a very difficult time this year. The harsh, dry, often very hot conditions had made snakes shyer than they may otherwise have been. It's hard to see a rattlesnake that's hiding under a 500lb rock, and that is very often what they were doing. So the situation was against us. We again went a while without seeing a thing when I just happened to glance down at a hanging slab of granite below me and saw a small rattlesnake perched in the leaf litter next to it. Not only was it one of the cleanest, most stunningly patterned and colored timbers I've ever seen but it was completely relaxed and perched fabulously. It was the perfect photography snake. The pictures I took of this young timber are among my favorite photos I've ever taken. 

That was the last rattlesnake we saw on that mountain that day. It wasn't one of those incredible but very possible days where we could see fifteen or more adult rattlesnakes on just one hill, we've both had days like that. But it was exceptionally thrilling to see the snakes we did see, especially being that it was a population we'd not been to before. 

With snow now on the ground, by mind drifts to days past and days future, but even with the snakes all now in their wintering dens I can't help it. I've been spotting ledges through the woods from the road, planning trips for next year, and even walking habitat to get the lay of the land. I'm obsessed with snakes. I have been since before I can remember. I'm just so thrilled now to have the chance to go see wild snakes on the regular. 

*Timber rattlesnakes are a protected species in every Northeast state, and are endangered in CT. Killing or harming one is illegal. Possessing one is illegal. Even trespassing on some den locations is illegal. If you are so lucky as to observe a timber rattlesnake in the wild, maintain a distance of about 10 feet, try to disturb the snake as little as possible, and do not share the location of the sighting with anyone except CT DEEP. Poaching and black market pet trade are one of if not the largest threats to CT's rattlesnakes today. The fewer people know where these animals are the better. 

 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, and Geof 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. 

More Salmon on the Mickey Finn

 My mission to get a CT Atlantic salmon on a dry this season fell quite short of the goal. On my second outing targeting broodstock salmon and unfortunately the last day I had good conditions for fishing dries, I put in a solid effort for about an hour and only moved one fish that I'm not sure was even a salmon before I gave up and tied on a Cascade. Sometimes I like dictating the day's fishing style; but I know I can't impose my will on the fish; and I do still like to catch. After all I could count on my finger the number of broodstock salmon I'd ever caught. I was determined not to have this be a season where I only caught fish on one day, as every year prior that had been the case. One and done. Eventually I moved a fish with the Cascade. It was a great surface strike but I was sure the fish felt something and I missed it. I gave the fish a rest and switched to the ever productive early season fly, the Mickey Finn. It chased on the next cast. I rested it again. The next time it hammered the fly in a spectacularly visual surface eat and I hooked it solidly. The ensuing fight was pretty damn good. A couple substantial runs, a bunch of jumps... even these hatchery fish can put on a heck of a show.

I continued down the pool and through the next run, moved one more fish that just wouldn't commit, then headed back upriver to hit a tight little spot I'd skipped over before I headed out. Just in case. Sure enough there was a salmon there and she took the Mickey Finn. This one was quite lovely, a lot more chrome compared to those I'd caught before and had better condition fins. It took out all it's energy jumping and it was a very short fight. 

I can't tell you how badly I wish we had wild sea run Atlantics in CT or even just a fishable run in Maine still. At least there are wild landlocked salmon there, but I want big, chrome fish that still have a couple sea lice on them, that make it into backing and sound like a small child landing in the water when the splash down from their high jumps. It is so frustrating to watch as wild salmon stocks world-wide plummet while I haven't the financial means to get to them while some are still good. 

Wait for me, salmon. Please.

 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, and Geof 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. 

Big Bait, Big Flies, Small Stripers

 This November and December have been highlighted by the largest biomass of adult menhaden I've ever seen locally. They were everywhere: tidal creeks were packed bank to bank, flats had roving schools, and there seemed to be a continuous unbroken line of menhaden from the Connecticut River to City Island. 

One would think that with so much big bait around there'd be loads of predator fish on it.               Nope.                                                                                                                                                       We don't have big stripers and big bluefish anymore, not enough to make something spectacular happen with so much adult bunker. There is definitely such a thing as too much bunkah. Now, if there'd been an equivalent mass of juvenile bunker around that long, there'd have never been no end to the schoolie blitzes. Those bunker are still here, actually, at least those the cold snaps haven't yet killed. I was out this Sunday and had thousands in front of me. There were also many that were dead and dying. It's unfortunate that so many menhaden seem to have gotten stuck in many of the warmer backwaters to die as it just gets colder and colder. The repetitive record breaking warm spells encouraged so many of them to overstay, the ocean temperatures are now colder than the mud flats so there is no escape. 

Oh how I wish those were bluefish tails.

On only two days was I so lucky as to find anything eating the bunker. One day, they were out of range, bass and maybe blues pushing them. I stopped and parked just to watch, I'd seen the blitz from the road. Little did I know I was missing a better show to my East: a couple humpback whales had found a school of bunker and were getting their fill. 

A few days later I returned to the same area and this time found nervous bunker in tighter to the shore. I ran back to the car to gear up, heart pounding. Menhaden are huge baitfish and and usually if bass are on them, they aren't little schoolies. I tied on a long Slammer, but even that wasn't as at all as large as many of these menhaden. 

With the bait so nervous, I was sure I'd soon see some large splashes or boils. Indeed I did, and there were clearly a number of large stripers visibly working the school.

I wanted my fly to stand out and look easy to catch, so I worked it with a very slow steady two hand retrieve and the occasional quick short burst. This drew strikes, but not from the 45 inch bunker filled cows I was hoping for. How sub-20 inch striper thinks a 10 inch long Slammer is small enough to snack on I do not know. I caught a number of them. It was certainly better than nothing, but my hopes for just on big surf bass in the 2020 season were crushed as they had already been many times. 

Regardless, it was very nice to see some stripers on the adult bunker even though it should have been happening much more often this season. Big bait and big predators is a very exciting dynamic for obvious reasons. Hopefully the fishery will return to it's former glory so more anglers can experience such things, myself included. It's up to us to be good stewards of the species as well as the habitat and food sources they require. Stop eating stripers if you still do, don't use fish oil products mad from menhaden oil, and limit your impact by using barbless single hooks and intentionally catching fewer fish than you could.

 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, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. 

The Great Hickory Shad Blitz of 2020

 There are many things the year 2020 could be known for. Many, many things. But in my mind, 2020 will forever be the year of the greatest hickory shad blitz in the history of Southern New England. If you are a surfcaster or saltwater fly angler and fished in the fall season of this year, you probably didn't miss it. It wasn't a one location blitz, or a single day event, but a near coast-wide event that has spanned weeks. From what I'm hearing it may still be in progress down south in New Jersey and even as far as South Carolina. It isn't really a singular event, but this year without question gave up the most stellar hickory shad fishing I've ever experienced. 

I intercepted the blitz in the final days of October on my home turf. I was fishing water I knew well, water I'd seen so much action in over the years -plenty of hickory blitzes included- but nothing like this. On the 28th I was on my own, and hickories were my first priority. That said, I started out taking quick looks at a few places that used to routinely hold big stripers in the fall. They are no longer as productive and I subsequently found little in the way of fish. I was then fully focused on shad. 

It was slow at first, not a notable blitz at all, but I was picking off some fish. Hickories battle magnificently, often being compared to baby tarpon because of their acrobatics. I've caught both, that's really not as accurate a comparison as one might think. Frankly I think fisherman are far too caught up in the idea of comparing species ("poor man's tarpon," "poor man's bonefish," "poor man's salmon") instead of just taking a fish species with it's own merits. Hickories are awesome fish and a hell of a lot of fun, that's all that matters. And though I definitely wasn't hammering them, I'd gotten 10 of them before the sun set and was pretty pleased with that.

With the sky now darkening and the little school under the bridge I'd been fishing pretty disturbed because I was catching them, I decided to make a move. I didn't go far but oftentimes a mile or two makes a huge difference. My first five casts at this new spot made it clear that something special was going on as each got at least one take and resulted in a large hickory shad to hand. That didn't change for the next hour and a half. I was catching fish continuously for the rest of my time fishing that night. It just never stopped. A swung grizzly Homer Rhode Seaducer was my the best method, though I'd started out with a Dave Bitters Baymen Clouser which was just a bit too big.

I left with the front of my waders slime and scale caked, but I wasn't satisfied. I wanted to see what I could feel and hear occurring in the darkness. The next day the conditions were different, it was warm but very rainy and windy. This time it was Noah and I. We went straight to the spot, and it was immediately clear that chaos was underway. There were hickories, there were stripers, there was bait spraying and predators swirling in the wind disturbed muddy water. We were into fish right away. The hickories were often leaping on the take, which lead to plenty of missed strikes but was so spectacular it was hard to care. They were doing this to the natural bait too, and at times you could look out over the channel and see dozens of iridescent fish leaping into the air. This was without a doubt one of the coolest things I'd seen all season. 

The stripers were mostly working in a pocket where wind was blowing white bait into shallow water and along a rip rap bank where some schoolies of peanut bunker were. At times they drew my attention away from the shad, and I did catch plenty of bass as well.

Seaducer in traditional colors. This simple old saltwater fly has become such a key fly in my arsenal.

I often break into my stash of black and purple redfish flies when fishing for stripers in murky water, the same sorts of flies I'd fish somewhere like Mosquito Lagoon.

Though the stripers blowing up the in the pocket were exiting, the shad were still the headliners. I had never seen so many of them. 

I rarely seek anything resembling peace in fishing but saltwater fishing especially. Even in the long, quiet nights of spring that sooth my soul after an icy winter, my greatest hope is to have a large striped bass shatter the peace completely and give me an adrenaline rush that will last days. It's days like the second of this great shad blitz that stand out. Wind and rain made simply being outside for an extended period of time uncomfortable and there was so much going on it was almost overstimulating. Noah and I were riding high on the phenomenal fishing. It was gloriously exciting chaos. Peace isn't what I seek when I'm fishing, and though I do often find it, it's the chaos that keeps me wanting more. Because damn, was that ever fun. We caught dozens of big hickories that hit and jumped like madmen and we were the only ones there experiencing that mayhem. I'd like to do that again some day. 

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, and Geof for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible.