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.

Convergence '21: Shad

 Once each spring, I make a run north to get on the American shad run. The American shad draw big striped bass, just as the river herring do, but I'm not after them for that reason. Unlike the herring, the shad are big and aggressive enough to be an excellent game species. Large American shad are hard fighting, often acrobatic chrome beauties that still have traces of that saltwater pull left in them even once they're 100 miles or more inland. And that's where I chase them, because if I'm honest the shad fishery in Massachusetts- at least for a fly rodder -is leaps and bounds better than what we have in Connecticut. 

Catching shad on a fly is simultaneously very simple and very complex. The flies and general fishing style are not complicated. I carry a bunch of very simple, colorful, flashy, weighted flies. Most of them use either a bead or dumbbell eyes, chenille, and flash... nothing more. The method is swinging. When it gets right down to it though, there's quite a bit of minutia involved. The fish can move a lot. They may change what color they want at the drop of a hat. Depth control and swing speed are incredibly key. Casting angle can make a huge difference. Well, it really isn't that simple is it? Some days it is, the shad go nuts and hit anything almost anywhere in the water column. But it's best to be prepared for it not to be that way. 

On my one trip this year, I was showing my friend Mark Alpert the ropes. Mark is a more than adept fly angler but had never caught a shad and this was his first time looking for them in Massachusetts. I knew what we'd likely be met with and was prepared for a decent day. The fishing played out very differently for each of us. 

Upon arrival, I was making constant little adjustments until I finally got a take. Depth, color, retrieve or lack thereof, position, etc. Eventually I finally started getting fish. They were in a seam right next to some pretty hard water and it was a pretty tight swing. By the time I'd called Mark and he'd gotten over to me, they were done there. 

After a spell we changed location entirely. Once there, it took me a while to dial things in. I was picking up fish, but not the way I wanted to (every cast), until I got my casting angler and swing honed just right. Then I had a steady pick that lasted a little while. Mark, fishing with a single hander, was compromised. I was able to lob a very long cast even with a steep slope right at my back. 

When that dried up, I wanted to return to the pool we'd started on. I felt that even if things picked up again where we were, Mark would have a better shot at the original pool. It was pretty immediately active upon our return, and I soon honed in on a color and swing speed that were working very well. That got me a good number of fish including a few beautiful big fresh roe shad, one of which was my personal best.

Eventually Mark was starting to get his presentation more tuned in as well and he was starting to get hits. Unfortunately, the bite slowed and then stopped completely, right before we had to leave anyway. I felt bad, but I knew it had nothing to do with his skill and encouraged him to make another trip. Mark got his first shad a few days later, as I expected he would. 

Shad are a perplexing and mysterious fish. They're a filter feeder at sea, so it is bizarre that they are so inclined to bite a fly so man miles inland. They've managed to survive through American industrialization, no minor miracle. Though they're far from my favorite fish, I think I'll always make that one trip a year. Maybe, if I get skunked, two. Catching a good shad bite is a pivotal part of experiencing the convergence of anadromous fish on inland rivers. It remains one of the greatest shows of life each spring.

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

Don't Catch on your First Drift

 There are some easy to make mistakes in fishing. One of them is catching a nice fish right away when there isn't an obvious and sustained bite in progress. Perhaps you make that first cast and catch a good one. Or maybe you make the first drift in the boat down a decent looking line before you really know what's happening and nail a nice fish. It's probably all downhill from there. I made that error last week. Noah and I set out looking for some good bass, and on the first drift I stuck a nice one on a beast fly fishing a 400 grain sink tip. She wasn't much over 30 inches but she was a perfect fly rod fish and fought fabulously. We thought we were in, that every drift would give up one or two really nice fish... 

That was both the beginning and the end of that success. We didn't put another sizable fish in the boat all evening. So let that be a word of caution... be careful how soon you catch a really good fish.

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

Bowfin Ecstasy

 After an extended run of extremely frustrating bowfin excursions, I felt I needed to change my location a bit. I knew somewhere I could almost certainly get bowfin. I also knew my chances of getting a really colored up male there were on the slim side because I never had before and they always seem to show up at this place right after the spawn. The males drop the bright green pretty quickly, it seems. I also encounter far more females at this location. That's not a bad thing because they are always bigger and I would very much like to break the 12 pound mark soon. I've seen them, I know they exist here... I just need to get a fly in front of one. 

The day was bright and hot, and the tide conditions were excellent. I put my kayak in under a high sun an paddled to the flats that usually hold fish. It hardly took any time at all to find a pair of bowfin, a large female and a slightly smaller male, hunting in about 8 inches of water. The larger fish smoked Drew Price's Mr. Bow-regard and so began the bowfin day I'd been hoping to have for well over a month.

For the rest of the day it was pretty consistent action. I got about a dozen shots. Six fish committed, and I got four of them to hand. Three were big females and the fourth was a pretty nice male that wasn't completely lacking color. It was a gorgeous fish, actually, they all were. Just not the crazy emerald green 'fin I was hoping to find this spring. 

I wouldn't call this an ugly fish... would you? It was gorgeous.

I can't get enough of these strange prehistoric monsters. Every encounter feels like meeting some sort of small dinosaur. They're gnarly fish, hitting and fighting with a force that would knock a black bass out cold. To me, bowfin are the original American sport fish... largemouth bass don't even hold a candle. 

Of course there are noteworthy aspects of any day on the water outside of the fish themselves, and on this occasion the turtles were a nice addition. I hand caught a few that were in shallow enough water, including a tiny common snapping turtle and a lovely musk turtle.

Of course I've always been enamored with turtles as I have been all reptiles. If only I'd known about bowfin when I was five years old... 

There is something vaguely reptilian about these air breathing fish. They seem just steps away from leaving the water entirely. I can't wait to do battle with them again 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, 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. 

June Scup on the Fly

 I've become very interested in catching saltwater bottom fish on the fly in recent years. Scup, fluke, black seabass, tautog... they're not frequently targeted by fly anglers but most of the time they're perfectly willing to take a well presented artificial fly. My methodology has evolved, or rather simplified, withing about the last year to using simple sinking and sink tip lines with a pair of flies and fishing on slow drifts. I'd spent a lot of time trying to use all sorts of drop shot rigs and other such things, most of which proved to be effective at times. They were mostly unnecessary though. What I do now is akin to a typical Great Lakes steelhead and salmon "nymphing" swing, but with a far heavier line and in much deeper water. It works well though. 

Not long ago Noah and I went out for some of the first scup and fluke of the season. He'd already been out a couple times, but this was my first run of the year. He fished primarily with a cheb rig, which is something knew to us and a methodology I intend to apply to tautog in the fall. I was using my 400 grain sink tip, 12 foot leader to 12lb tippet, and a Clouser and worm fly, one tipped with a thing called "fish bites". Fish bites are an artificial attractant Noah had been experimenting with, and being artificial I didn't particularly think it was cheating. Nor do I really care if you do. It wasn't necessary but I did catch more fish because of it.

The fish were averaging pretty large, and most were extremely hefty. We're pretty sure many were gravid females. Though fought pretty well, even on a 10wt. Both Noah and I were having a lot of brief fights though, and having a pretty hard time keeping fish pinned. Had we landed even half of the fish we dropped it would have been a really stellar day, and it wasn't bad to start with. We even tripled up at one point. 

We also got a few other species out there, including a couple sizable sea robins and one small fluke. It was a fun outing and a good start to a season of dredging flies for underrated fish. Most will go back to the depths but a few will end up in the pan.

 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. 

Carp Spawn Chaos

 Can carp be caught during the spawn? Most of the time, yes. Actively spawning carp probably can't be, but rarely ever does ever carp in an given lake or river spawn at the same time. Some even go crazy eating the very eggs dropped by the carp that are spawning. I've never seen a better example of this than my home lake. The spawn actually results in far and away the best carp bite of the year, at least for those of us who primarily use artificial lures or flies. After a school of spawners work through and area, a school of post or pre-spawn carp will roll in and start feeding on the eggs. It's the only time I've found I can get more than a few shots in a morning on this water, at least on foot. 

There have been decent spawns the last few years, but they didn't really last a long time, or involve the bulk of the biomass at once. This spring though was the best carp spawn I've seen in quite a few years. I haven't seen one significant enough to draw in panfish and big bass since before I'd ever picked up a fly rod... this year's was significant. Schools of perch pursued the egg layers, and smallmouth pursued those perch. I, however, was just trying to get as many carp to hand as possible. The other fish would only get in my way.

I really did catch a whole bunch of carp, actually. Rarely ever does it work out that way, but this time was borderline absurd. At one point I hooked fish on three consecutive casts. I used mop flies primarily until I'd literally run out, then I fished a Hybrid. Both worked perfectly well and got fish to eat very consistently. Some fish that were cruising would even stop completely and tilt down to intercept a slowly sinking fly. The ease with which I could approach, cast at, and dupe carp was astonishing. This was the day of days. I ended up catching more than a dozen commons. I even unintentionally fouled (and subsequently broke off) the first mirror carp I've personally ever seen in m home territory. 

Most of the fish were pretty beat up. This is very typical of spawning. Lots of the males were covered in small tubercles. One oddity I noted was a progressive decline in fight quality as the morning progressed.The first few fish burned right into the backing, but very few came anywhere near doing so after that. By the end the fights were still good, but definitely didn't feature any long, fast runs. 

This has been a pretty stellar carp year for me thus far. I've gotten size, I've gotten numbers, and I've gotten some pretty cool mirrors as well. Now I just need a koi... As the season progresses, I may drift more towards targeting grass carp or seeking koi, I'm not yet sure. But I'm certainly very pleased with what I've accomplished so far. 

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. 

One Daylight Mouse Fish

 Some days I don't care to do what will be most efficient, what will get me the most or the biggest fish, or what makes sense. I just want to see one fish smash something ridiculous. A couple weeks ago I had one of those days. I wanted to see a wild brown smash a mouse, and I didn't care to do anything else. I went to the sort of stream I knew would be conducive and I proceeded to have a riotous time watching trout slash, boil, and jump all over my fly. Only one ate it well enough for me to get a hook set, but that's fine. That was all I wanted.

That's really all I have for today. Tomorrow's post will be much longer; and it most certainly won't be about trout!

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. 

Bowfin Agony

 Bowfin are not always easy to catch. They're often pegged as being a dumb, overly aggressive fish. While it is certainly much easier to approach a bowfin in a small watercraft, that does not mean they are easy. I spent an exceptional amount of my available fishing time this spring looking for bowfin and not finding them or finding very few and getting my butt handed to me by them. 

I wanted an early season male bowfin in spawning colors. Bowfin have perhaps the most unique spawning colors of any fish in CT. They turn green. Not vaguely green, not olive, not light green... male bowfin turn a deep emerald green, mostly on their fins and stomach. I've caught one bowfin that had some nice green coloration, but never a fully lit-up one. It is something I badly want to have photos of. Unfortunately this might not be my year for it. May went by without any bowfin for me, and as June trickles along they just get less and less colorful. I had one shot that didn't pan out. It was a moderately warm day and cloudier than I would have liked. I'd hiked my kayak into a backwater that a friend had been absolutely slamming bowfin at just days prior. I got the first one I saw to eat, and he was a stunner: the most green, most reticulated, most brilliant bowfin I'd ever seen. And I lost him. I couldn't get an eat from any other bowfin I saw that day (and I didn't see many). The handful of football shaped largemouth and small small pike I caught were not a good consolation. 

My next bowfin hunt started out hot and sunny- nearly ideal -and ended cloudy and rainy, with some gnarly cloud to ground lightning barrages in between. I only saw two bowfin and I didn't really get a shot at either one. I fished two different water bodies and got one good carp at each... no predator fish at all.

These long kayak outings without a bowfin to hand were starting to get obnoxious. I was burning gas, hauling my kayak in and out of nasty bodies of water, and just not accomplishing what I'd set out to. It's pretty hard not to get discouraged. Soon though, my agony would be swept away. 

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