Salter Brook Trout: What Is, What Was, & What Could Still Be. Pt. 1

 Cape Cod

A quiet, meandering stream flows south of Mashpee, Massachusetts. It’s origins are Johns Pond and the wetlands near it, and it empties into Waquoit Bay. The stream meanders through woodlands that are protected as the Mashpee National Wildlife Refuge and Quashnet Woods State Reservation. Though the area is mostly suburban neighborhoods, and one sees road signs that say “Thickly Settled” in such parts of Massachusetts, this barrier of protected land provides refuge for the stream, called the Quashnet River. This is important, because the Quashnet is home to a very special fish. Wild, native brook trout swim these waters. 

Brook trout swim many streams in southern New England, but the brook trout of the Quashnet are special. This is because the river they are born in flows unimpeded into saltwater. There are no dams to prevent fish from coming and going, so some of these brook trout do. They leave the stream and enter the brackish and salt waters of Waquoit Bay at their leisure, undergoing a process like that of sea run brown trout or Atlantic salmon. But unlike those species, sea run brook trout aren’t regimented to a strict migratory schedule. Contrary to popular belief, they aren’t anadromous (fish that live in saltwater and run up freshwater rivers to spawn). They are simply wanderers, and enter saltwater sometimes for a variety of reasons including feeding and thermal refuge. These fish are commonly known as “salters.” 

On a bright and pleasant winter day, I drove from my partner’s apartment in Rhode Island to Cape Cod. The weather felt and looked nice but was not good for fishing. High pressure and wind are rarely ever a good thing. I ended up struggling all day despite looking for pickerel, holdover stripers, and white perch in a variety of spots. Around midday, I ended up at the Quashnet, frustrated and expecting very little. I fished my way downstream then up, carefully avoiding wading on gravel because fry had still likely not emerged from the redds. I missed one take way down in tidal water, but was struggling. It wasn’t until all hope had left me that a brook trout came out of a log jam to eat my gold Empie Shiner and brighten my spirits. It was a diminutive but colorful fish; a true miracle. Only three streams in the area still hold these fish, and if we aren’t very careful it could soon be only two. 

Crossing the canal bridge on my way back home, I looked over the land around Buttermilk Bay. I could see the community of Buzzards Bay, a town I’ve driven through many times. Out of my visibility was the town of Wareham and, to the north of Buzzards Bay, an important piece of land called the Lyman Reserve. Taking the name of the Lyman family, who owned the land through which a salter stream called Red Brook flows, donated the land to an organization called The Trustees of Reservations. They’d already deeded the land to Trout Unlimited for the express purpose of restoring the river's brook trout. Through the hard work of The Trustees, Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife, Trout Unlimited, and Sea Run Brook Trout Coalition, habitat restoration and dam removal began to reap rewards. Brook trout numbers increased substantially and catch rates eventually reached historic levels not seen since the 1800’s (SRBTC). 

I’d gotten my first experience with sea run brook trout at Red Brook in 2017 with friend and guide Geoff Klane. I encountered a preposterously chrome, hefty brook trout in tidal water that refused to come to hand on that trip and had been returning ever since in hopes to meet that fish again. I’d not been successful, but the pull of the place was palpable. Red Brook is a trout stream after my own heart: free of non native fish species, low gradient and fickle, with a few truly large fish in it’s dark, hidden lies. I was broken up to learn that Red Brook may soon be in serious danger. 

Parcels of undeveloped land near the headwaters of Red Brook are currently the focus of a proposal by a development group, fishermen, conservationists, and residents alike. A relatively quiet battle is being fought and the future of Red Brook could be at stake. 

To be continued….

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

A Creek Chub Anomaly

 Though creek chubs are considered native to Connecticut, their distribution within the state is patchy. The area within close proximity of my home is a bit of a hole in the patchwork distribution, but I get surprised every now and then. Five years ago I caught a large creek chub in a brook trout stream I frequent, only 5 miles from my house. It sticks in memory because it was not only the first creek chub I'd caught in that stream, but in that entire watershed. And it remained the only one I'd caught out of that watershed until very recently. 

It was a bright not-yet-spring-but-getting-there type of day. I was further down the watershed than I'd been when I caught that one-off creek chub, looking for brook trout. The stream is one that had an abrupt rebound when the state stopped stocking it. Retired DEEP biologist Neil Hagstrom had expressed interest in the stream, and I confirmed his suspicions: I'd caught no wild salmonids of any kind before stocking ceased, but three years later the native char had taken hold again. It is now being stocked again, and frankly that's just stupid. I didn't catch a single fish there on this visit. 

It wasn't until I walked up a tiny, unnamed tributary that I even saw a fish. In a quiet culvert pool, a dozen or so small minnows darted about, feeding in the gravel and detritus. I could tell they were Semotulis, but I couldn't tell if they were atromaculatus (creek chub) or, more likely, corporalis (fallfish). Fallfish are far more abundant in the watershed though not numerous in the tiny tributaries. They did appear to have a distinct lateral line, but so do small fallfish. I assumed they'd eat my nymph and give me a real chance to see them up close, and luckily they did. I could tell before I even got the first to hand that it was indeed a creek chub.

I ended up catching four more, ascending in size. Given the amount of time I've fished this area and how thoroughly, this was a big deal to me. It isn't a frequent occurrence for me, these days, to find a species that I don't expect to so close to home.

To most this would seem entirely uninteresting. Of course even anglers that have fished for 30 years often could care less to know the difference between a creek chub and a fallfish, both often lumped in as the same fish. To me, though, this was such a surprising and exciting find. Anything at all that increases my understanding of local waterways is welcomed knowledge and until this point I'd just assumed there weren't creek chubs in that area. Now that I know they are present I'd like to see if there is any abundance to that population outside of the little culvert pool. And of course I want to catch a really big one, though this isn't the place to do it. 

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

The Secret Valley

 A small stream like many others flows off of a particular hill in central CT. It is a stream I've been visiting for years, and it's one of my favorites. Moss-covered granite bedrock and healthy hemlocks give the stream a very ancient feel. It also looks very wild. This is, however, an illusion. Both ridges above the stream are deforested with housing developments on them. The headwaters emanate from within a farm. The sharp topography of the valley cut by the creek is the only thing hat stopped it, too, from becoming heavily developed. The whole area the stream flows through is but a shadow of what it had once been. Atlantic salmon no longer spawn in the river the small stream flows into. The timber rattlesnake dens to its south were extirpated before any regard for the importance of the species was realized. But a sensitive native species still swims in the stream, if only for now.

Native brook trout eek out a meager existence in the secret valley, under the siege of low water conditions every summer and fall as well as whatever chemicals run off from the farmland. Some manage to get quite large here: one 11 inch specimen caught by my father springs to mind. However most remain under 7 inches, feeding on what little insect life there is in the very sterile stream habitat.

On a recent visit to the Valley, I found its resident brookies both abundant and willing. Sometimes this stream is very stingy, this was no such a day. No fewer than a dozen brook trout came to hand under those dark hemlocks. A few of them were caught on the dry. In one foam-filled eddy I caught no fewer than four brook trout consecutively.

Though that day was certainly an exceptionally productive one, I still couldn't help but worry about my little brook. It had clearly changed quite a bit and some of the holes were now shallower. To worsen things, a new development has gone in. Any development draws water from the aquifer and makes the impacts of a drought much more severe. When I'm older, will there still be brook trout here? I fear they could be snuffed out if "progress" continues. It certainly won't be intentional, like the rattlesnakes that were killed with pitch forks and dynamite. Nobody is scared of brook trout, and I doubt anyone wants to extirpate them. People either just aren't aware or don't care one way or the other. This is the sad reality of the battle to protect wild things. It is difficult to get the word to everybody, and of those that hear only a handful will care and even fewer will take action.

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

Some Announcements

 First of all, I must apologize for my absence here the last few days. I don't like leaving post gaps this long. I was in western NY without internet the last two days, and have generally been unfocused for the last week ore so. But I've got some good stuff coming, so stay tuned. 

From this point onward I'm committing to a posting schedule. I've already been attempting to settle into one but with perhaps less intent than I should be. From this point onward, I'll do my best to post every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, and every other Saturday. This blog has unfortunately continued to lose readership and may soon have run its course, but I am going to continue as long as I see I have an audience at all.

For those who have chosen to support me on Patreon I made significant changes in benefits a little while back. Each tier now receives a free sticker, and each tier from the 2nd up gets weekly exclusive photos from a trip I didn't post about, or felt were too identifiable of location to post publicly. I also added a new top tier, with every benefit the lower tier receives as well as a dozen free flies. Regardless of what tier you are in I may feel generous at some point and send you flies... I really do appreciate the few of you that have supported this blog financially. It would be done and gone already were it not for you folks. I love you all, thanks for sticking with Connecticut Fly Angler! 

Signs of Spring: Sunfish and Snakes

 As the days gradually warm, the ice thaws, and we finally say goodbye to the erratic and harsh New England winter, those dormant for the last few months start to emerge and exhibit some behavior other than lethargy. As soon as the ponds open up, I start looking for the first bass and sunfish of the season. The sun heats up mud flats and shorelines, especially on the north sides of these bodies of water. Fish gather there to take advantage of the warmer water temperatures. This presents the first opportunity I get most years to cast dry flies for bluegills. The fish usually aren’t big and they are still slow and finicky, but after a winter of hardwater fishing any fish on a dry is welcomed. 

Sometimes the gathering of sunfish and bass up in the shallows is visually spectacular, as was the case one day when Noah and I found the first fully open pond of the year. There was a big school of bluegills, largemouth bass, and small chain pickerel at the northeast end of the pond. 

A few days later I visited another pond that is productive just about any time it isn’t frozen. Unfortunately it wasn’t quite as good this visit as it has been in the past. I saw a huge largemouth and the same big koi that has taunted me there for years, but the fishing wasn’t on fire. I managed a handful of bluegills, pumpkinseeds, and largemouth bass on both dries and small wet flies. The water was extremely clear and it was all sight-fishing, so though the catch rate was nothing special and I got nothing of impressive size it was still fun. It felt like spring.

Afterwards, I made my way to a ledge where some black racers den. After a winter without reptiles, I was eager to see the first snake of the year and with air temperatures in the low 60’s it seemed like the right day. I pulled off the road and walked over to the ledge, noting just how warm it was out in the open. Slowly and cautiously, I examined the bottom of the ledge over towards the den holes themselves. I made it over to them and looked around very carefully but didn’t see any snakes. I turned and began to walk back towards my car when I heard a rapid rattling sound in the leaf litter. It was the telltale sound of a snake shaking its tail in the grass. Though rattlesnakes are known for their, well, tail rattling, and are certainly well evolved for it, they aren’t the only snakes that shake their tail when threatened. It's an extremely common behavior in racers. I looked closer and suddenly the snake came into focus. It was coiled under grass and leaves and very well concealed. My first snake of the year was in front of me, but I immediately backed off so as not to disturb it too much. I called my friend Bruce, and he almost immediately answered: “Wow. We must have ESP.”

He’d been in the process of writing a text to me about going to this very spot to see the first snake of the year. I left the immediate area and awaited his arrival before we went to photograph the snake, which fortunately had not decided to leave. 

Bluegills in the shallows, black racers basking in the grass, and that warm sunshine beaming down… spring has sprung. 

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, and Luke 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

Indi Rig Winter Carp

 After catching my big early season pike and spending a bit more time figuring out that very little else was likely to come out of the same spot that day, Noah and I switched gears to target something smaller. We visited an early season crappie spot where I had some great success a few years ago around the same time of year. Upon arriving we discovered that although panfish seemed entirely absent, carp were present and seemed to be feeding. 

I’d seen carp at this spot before, including what looked like the same large orange koi we could see on this day, but had never caught any. Granted the effort I had put in wasn’t all that strong. But this time I decided to really give them a try, especially since they were all that was present. Early March is indeed when I get the first carp of the season most years, so it would be a shame not to start out 2021 strong seeing as carp are one of the fish I intend to regain some proficiency with this year. I started out doing what I typically do for carp, sight casting with a weighted fly. I may have had one take doing this but distance, visibility, and current were giving me a hard time. I decided to do something I’d never really tried before for carp. I’ve seen videos and heard people talk about using strike indicators for carp fishing. Seeing as I’d barely ever indicator fished for most of my fly fishing career, but suddenly started doing a whole lot of it last year, I decided to branch out with the methodology even further.

One of the reasons I’ve often objected to trying indi rig carping was the vertical nature of the presentation. I’ve often felt that a vertical tippet puts off carp because it is more likely to be felt by the fish when it attempts to eat the fly. I’m still not sure I’m wrong about this, but spending more time indicator fishing for species with similar feeding inclinations, like redhorse and white suckers, has put a bit of doubt in my mind. Granted carp seem more line-shy than both of those species, but I doubt the sensitivity of their mouths and faces is all that different. That was the main reason I’d not already tried it. Since detecting strikes was my main issue in this situation I decided to ignore that. 

I tied on a small chartreuse jig fly, size 10 with a tungsten bead, on 4x tippet and 3 feet under a Thingamabobber. It was a bit surprising how little time it took to get a bite. I could see the fish in the water but would not likely have seen the take. The indicator dropped with authority, though, and I was immediately faced with a problem. We were fishing in a spot with a substantial stone wall dropping into the water, with trees to our left and some remaining ice in front of us. I managed to get around the first tree before deciding to try to drop carefully onto the ice to get around the second one. The ice didn’t break when I stepped on it, but instead started to push out away from the edge. In comically slow fashion I’d become stuck with my back against the rock wall and my feet on the ice, scrambling to get back up on the wall unsuccessfully while still fighting the carp. I fell in, inevitably, but only up to my knees. I scrambled back onto the wall and tried to re-evaluate. Weirdly, getting on the ice still seemed like the best plan. I used my foot to get the ice back against the edge and stepped back onto it, this time without pushing it out. I walked around the tree and promptly broke through the ice. Now accepting that I’d be spending the rest of the fight in the water, I maneuvered to fish around the ice and eventually caught it.

That was about as chaotic a battle as I’d ever had with a carp that weighed, in all likelihood, less than 10 pounds. But after a winter of very minimal big fish success, catching both a nice pike and a common carp on the same day was exhilarating. Noah took some shots for me before I released the fish and climbed back up onto dry land. I was very glad I’d kept the waders on. We stuck around for a while trying to repeat this success but weren’t able to get another bite. I’d landed the first carp of the year though, and was very pleased. 

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, and Luke 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 Early Season Pike on the Fly

 I nearly always manage to miss the pre-spawn pike fishing here in Connecticut, even when I’m trying to find them. It has been a combination of lack of experience, lack of time, and lack of luck. Despite the fact that I sometimes went to likely places, they simply did not produce. It ended up leading to lots of skunking since there’s very little else around to eat a 10 inch fly in the sort of water pike move into in March and April. March 9th, 2021 though finally broke the long lasting bad luck regime- and in spectacular fashion.  

It was the first day of the first legitimate warm spell of the year. It was very comfortable out but also extremely bright. Noah and I headed north, but our target wasn’t pike. We did know that pike were a possibility and would be fishing a known pike spot. But I didn’t really think I’d be catching one. Big fish were my target though and I was rocking my new 12wt Heritage rod and Lamson Litespeed G5, far and away the nicest outfit in my possession at the moment. I’d fiddled with the rod a bit in late fall with the 11wt line I bought for it and struggled to cast as well as I knew I should have been. Rather than upsizing the line right away, I instead switched to my 10wt SA Mastery Titan, and damn if that thing didn’t suddenly become a cannon! Even with a 11 foot sink tip linked to the end and a heavy 9 inch Flashtail Clouser tied on I could get all of the fly line and 2 feet of backing out the tip of the rod… that’s a long fly cast- about 108 feet when my leader turned over completely. That’s the exact rigging I was using on this day.

The river was low and clear and this made our main target species (which will remain nameless, for now) less likely to move into the shallow water we were fishing. It seemed like a setup to skunk, but we went through the motions anyway. I was limited by trees for backcast space, but was able to shoot about 60 feet with a really strong haul. This gave me just enough of distance to effectively fish the contour. It was when the fly came up over the drop off that, to my shock, it got slammed by what was clearly a big fish. Despite having fished for very little other than trout and panfish for a few months, I strip set well. The fish made a short but hard run for deeper water and for a while I wasn’t sure what it was. As it got closer though I could tell it was a pike, and a pretty good one. Without too much hassle I was able to slide the fish up into shallow water and tail her. It was a very girthy fish, likely a gravid female, and probably the heaviest pike I’d ever caught. 

I was absolutely elated. The adrenaline rush from catching a big fish is hard to describe, but if you’ve experienced it you know how addicting it is. I’d feel high for the rest of the day after catching that pike, and though we left that spot shortly thereafter, the excitement wasn’t over yet. But I need more. I'll always need 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, and Luke 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

Simple But Deadly: The Christmas Ornament

Throughout the years, I've very infrequently delved into fly tying on this blog. That may partly be because fly tying feels more like actual work to me than fishing does, but that's neither here nor there. Whatever the reason, I only occasionally have written actual fly tying posts, with recipes, tips, and productive patterns. And because I do routinely mention specific fly patterns, and have over the years simplified and honed my own fly selection down to relatively simple to tie but extremely effective patterns that can fool more than one species of fish, it's high time I started a fly tying series. Most of these flies, basically all of them, are other tyer's designs. A few are my own. But they all work, and I have an immense amount of faith in them. This series is not written for beginner tiers who are still learning simple methods and steps, but for experienced tiers looking to diversify their fly selection that can understand very simplified instructions that don't cover every step in detail. This is "Simple But Deadly."

Flash flies are a loose collection of different patterns composed mostly or entirely of synthetic flash material. There are a number of notable patterns I’d call flash flies, from the salmon and steelhead pattern by the very name “Flash Fly,” to the Empie Shiner and Kreelex. I semi-accidentally came up with my own flash fly in 2018- an abomination of material some would say should never be graced with the designation of being a fly- but it just catches fish so damn well.

The Christmas Ornament was born when I brought home a beat up musky cowgirl lure I found on the side of the road. The wire, hooks, and blades were flattened, unquestionably from being run over by cars a time or two. But the flashy skirt was in good enough shape that it seemed like something I could use to tie flies with. It was a multicolored mylar material, like Hedron Saltwater Flashabou. I tied an utterly hideous fly out of that, articulated and intended for muskie and big pike. The material from the musky lure wasn’t long enough for the tail, so I blended rainbow krystal flash and holographic flashabou in a couple sizes and colors. The fly ended up being pretty useless, but on one day on Lake Champlain, I realized I needed something durable and flashy. I cut off the back hook of that fly, and not only proceeded to catch pike and pickerel but even largemouth ate that silly thing. And thus the Christmas Ornament was born. The fly has caught numerous big bass for me, as well as stripers and bluefish. Mostly, though, it is just a pike catching machine. 

Materials:

Tail: Hareline Krystal Flash, rainbow. Hedron Saltwater Flashabou, Gold. Hedron Holographic Saltwater Flashabou, gold. Hedron Holographic Flashabou, green. Hedron Holographic Flashabou, gold. Equal parts, hand blended.

Body: Hareline Saltwater Flashabou, gold. Hedron Holographic Saltwater Flashabou, rainbow. 1 part gold, 2 parts rainbow, hand blended. 

Thread: UTC 140 Fl. Fire Orange

Hook: Size 4-2/0 Gamakatsu B10S

Hand blending flash takes some practice. Lay out the flash on a flat surface, obviously keep the fibers parallel. Make sure the colors are evenly distributed. Then bundle it all together. The tail fibers should be 3 to 4 times the length of the hook shank. For the body, tie in 3 or 4 clumps about 4 inches long, tied in halfway between the ends and then folded back, almost like a reverse tying bucktail. You can add eyes to this fly if you’d like but they aren’t necessary. Using lead wrap to weight the fly is also useful in some situations. Yes, these are very simplistic directions, but this is a very simple fly. I didn’t feel a photographic guide to tying it was necessary. It also doesn’t need to be perfect, just full-bodied, even, and durably tied.  

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, and Luke 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

Just One Slab: Ice Fishing Big Crappie

One notably unpleasant day in February, Rick invited me for a run up to Massachusetts to fish a well known crappie and perch hot spot. A gusting Northwest wind would prevent comfort out in the open, so it was a really good thing Rick had both shelter and a portable heater. We set out, brimming with confidence and some idea of what to expect since Rick had just fished the spot a few days prior. 

Trophy panfish seems like an oxymoron to some fishermen. I’ve met a few folks that turn up their noses to bluegill, crappie and perch entirely. This runs contrary to my own opinions of those species. Panfish, large ones in particular, are something I borderline obsess over. That’s why it’s fun to fish with Rick, he will never shy away from a good panfish bite. Having ice fished for them all over the northeast for many years, he also has far more experience than I and I value the knowledge I’ve been able to pick up from him. Still, neither of us is good enough to catch every time we go out though, still. And that’s part of what keeps panfishing exciting. It isn’t as simple as just going out and jigging on a body of water that holds the species. 

On this day we never fully got a grasp on the bite. There were fish under us sporadically throughout the afternoon and evening and we were able to get bites sometimes. However, they were not, for the most part, the sort of bites we were looking for. Most of the fish caught were small sunfish, perch, and spottail shiners. After spending a while at the first set of holes we moved over just a short distance. Immediately we had marks under us and promptly each caught a crappie. Mine was a slab. It wasn’t as big as we were really hoping for at 12 inches and change, but it had shoulders and was certainly a good fish. 

We thought it was on, but we didn’t get another crappie all evening. From right around sunset on we even had loads of big marks beneath us, a huge school of fish. We could sporadically get them to follow but they seemed to have no interest at all in eating anything we tried to feed them. We can’t be sure what species these were since we didn’t catch one, but it certainly was befuddling. This is exactly what keeps fishing engaging for anglers like Rick and I: we want to either figure out how to catch these fish or figure out how to know when it isn’t possible. One fish, a pretty good one, made the trip, but it was those that we could see on the flasher but failed to fool that made me want to figure this spot out. 

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, and Luke 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. 

Surprise Brown Trout

 One warm day in February, the first day it seemed we might be moving out of the long standing cold weather pattern, Cheyenne and I went for a hike along a tiny river valley stream. Like many of the streams in the same rock formation, this one seems nearly immune to low water and ice issues often inhibit the seasonal fishing quality of streams in the adjacent upland areas. Though tiny, I was aware it held sizable wild trout or at least had historically. Having only fished it once prior and caught just one tiny brown trout, I of course had a rod along with me. 

Tied to my tippet was a green weenie, a fly I’ve never quite given credit to. I’ve rarely ever tied or fished the green weenie for some reason. I’m not quite sure what had come over me but I’d churned out a half dozen one day before this outing and decided that would be the fly I’d throw. It’s a dead on inch worm or caterpillar imitation. That is, in fact, what it was tied to imitate. And yet I felt compelled to use it during a time of year notably lacking in such larvae. Fishing the green weenie in the winter certainly isn’t unheard of, not at all. Plenty of angler have fished and caught with the green weenie in the winter. It’s just funny to me that having confidence in a bright green worm when there’s more than half a foot of snow on the ground is possible.

Since fishing wasn’t top priority, I was fairly selective about how much casting I was doing. I occasionally handed off the rod to Cheyenne, too. I wasn’t really expecting anything. We came upon a deep, log-filled bend hole. I made one short bow and arrow cast into the soft water on the inside of the bend. As soon as the fly got to depth, my line came tight and a substantial fish was on. It was more than twice the size of any fish I’d seen in this stream prior. A brown trout of wild origins (it has been a great many years since this stream had been stocked), this specimen was an impressive example of what CT lowland creeks and brooks are capable of producing. 

I know the same stream has brook trout as well. Though that was the only fish I or Cheyenne caught this day, I know return is inevitable. I’d like to see a large brook trout there- something the size of that brown. I am sure there are a few. 

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, and Luke 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

Trophy Pickerel Ice Fishing

 I love big chain pickerel. That’s never been a secret. I get a great deal of joy out of catching the native Esox species. I especially love really big pickerel. Regrettably, I’ve not been catching many truly giant pickerel in recent years. That changed one day in February while out on the ice.

Rick and I were actually looking for panfish, mainly big bluegills and crappie. We set out on a shallow, weedy lake that we knew had a large abundance of both species in good sizes. We also knew it had a lot of chain pickerel, and we certainly wouldn’t mind catching those. The first few spots we tried weren’t especially active, we may have gotten a bluegill or two. But eventually we set up in a deeper spot and could see fish moving around in the weeds on the flasher. They were a little finicky, but we were soon slowly picking up bluegills. Eventually I got a crappie as well. There were a few “up bites” that I was missing, and these are usually indicative of crappie bites. 

I got a pickerel too, maybe half a dozen fish in. It was a small one- beautiful but not impressive in stature. I always find it fascinating that pickerel will eat a tiny tungsten jig with only one or two spikes on it; it seems so small. It’s not really in their character. They’re smaller than pike but if anything, have even more attitude. Eating such a tiny bait just seems unlike them. They will, though, and nothing could prepare me more for the next pickerel that ate my little jig. It came out of the weeds and I saw the eat clear as day on the flasher. It felt heavy and immediately began running hard. I was using the equivalent of 5x tippet, so I felt I couldn’t possibly land this fish. The fight was a jaw clenching give and take, and when I got the fish to the hole I could see that not only was it a really nice pickerel but my line was crosswise through her teeth. With my heart in my throat, I shoved my hand into the frigid water and miraculously managed to get her through the hole. 

What a fish she was! Long, but more impressively, very girthy. There were clearly a few panfish in her stomach. This was the sort of pickerel I’m hoping I’ll get on the fly sometime this month or the next. The fact that this big predator -with 3 inch panfish in her belly- felt the need to eat that miniscule jig, and that I then got her to hand? Incredible. The highlight of the ice season for me. 

We ended up picking at panfish and pickerel the rest of the outing. The bites came in bits and spurts. A couple of the pickerel were nice ones, though not nearly as impressive as the second one. It was an excellent day out on the hard water- one of my favorite days ice fishing ever.

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.

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Edited by Cheyenne Terrien