Parrotfish, Cowfish, and a Puffer on The Fly

After sleeping in and just being well tired  most of the morning after fishing dock lights with Kirk, Noah and I eventually found the energy and headed out to fish Boca Raton inlet once again. I was ready to settle the score there and finally catch a damn parrotfish on the fly. But first, here's an obnoxious amount of sergeant majors:

Actually that's a pretty normal amount of sergeant majors. This seems to be more or less the rule at an inlet or reef in South Florida. The sergeant majors are ever present and ever annoying, but a little bit fun to catch on small dry flies. After all, how often do you get to say that you've caught a reef fish, a damselfish, on a dry fly? It is pretty cool, honestly. 

Abudefduf saxatilis on a bread crumb dry fly.

After fooling with the sergeant majors and pinfish until I became sick of them once again, I buckled down and started on focusing on acquiring my parrotfish. There are a number of parrotfish species there, including queen parrotfish and stoplight parrotfish, and some were feeding off the rocks, which I figured would make them viable targets. I put flies in front of both cruising parrotfish and ones that were feeding and struggled to get a reaction. I eventually snagged some sargassum and dressed the hook with it and that's how I got my first take, which only lead to a break off. I'd almost considered counting any fish I caught on sargassum tied to a hook but quickly changed my mind about it. Sargassum isn't meat, nor is it a traditional bait, but it wasn't an imitation, it was exactly what once of the fish were eating. So, even though it was tied to the hook no differently than would be a feather, some hair, or and artificial product, it was still bait. I decided to keep trying to get one to eat an undressed fly. This was a serious chore made harder by a variety of variables. Though the water was very clear and I could see the fish, the ripping current and surface disturbance made sight fishing thee parrotfish tricky. I knew I'd pretty much have to set the hook the instant a parrotfish took, as my experiences fishing for these reef species told me they'd nip then react the fly without me feeling anything. It's very difficult to set on sight without being able to see the fly in the water. I'd have to read the fish's body language, and they were behaving in ways I'd not seen other fish behave. I tried sitting the fly still on the rocks near where they were feeding, and I could have, for all I know, had a few takes doing so, but I just didn't notice them. Eventually I got smart though, and as a parrotfish got close to where I thought my fly was, I dropped my rod tip about a foot and let the fly and splitshot roll down the rock. The fish turned completely around and quickly pursued, travelling about a foot then stopping. I set the hook, was on, and prayed that I hadn't just snagged the fish. Miracle of miracles, it had eaten the fly. I didn't know what species it was at the times, but it was a parrotfish so it was new by default. 

Redtail/yellowtail parrotfish. Sparisoma rubripinne. Life list fish #151. Rank: species

That was the initial phase of the species. Parrotfish, like many wrasses, often have two color phases during their life, with variances overall that make it not immediately clear what they actually are. Not long after I caught my lifer, I caught another yellowtail on a piece of sargassum hooked on the fly that looked very different: 

With one really cool lifer down I was a bit more excited than I had been much of the day prior. The presence of a few huge scrawled filefish served to hype me up even more. Though I got one of a pair to chase a fly a bunch of times I couldn't seem to get it to eat. Fear not, another oddball showed up. I was using another version of the orange chenille worm I'd caught the parrotfish on, but one with a small light pink marabou tail when I spotted a scrawled cowfish. I put the fly in front of it and it quickly showed interest. 

Now, filefish, cowfish, boxfish, puffers, and other such odd shaped fish have sort of a... stupid quality. I love them, they're really cool, and they aren't actually stupid, but the way the swim and the way the approach and eat thing just makes them seem like idiots. If you've seen it you know what I'm talking about. They're the dumbest looking things, to the extent that I often can't help but laugh out loud watching them react to a fly especially. This little cowfish was no exception, it wandered on over and started sucking and chewing on the marabou tail of my fly, sort of blowing it in and out of its mouth. It was very goofy. It took me a number of tries to actually get the hook in him but I eventually did. The fly didn't stay in him long, but I had him over land when it popped out... disaster averted! 

Scrawled cowfish. Acanthostracion quadricornis. Life list fish #152. Rank: species

Look at this fish! What a weirdo. 

Now I had to long standing targets out of the way, and I relaxed a little bit. I was still excited but I wasn't nervous. I kept trying to catch new parrotfish and dropping a small white Walt's Worm into crevices hoping for a bluehead wrasse. A couple dusky damselfish found it instead.

Stegastes adustus

Then, from one of the crevices came something I'd not expected, something I'd never even heard of. It was clearly a puffer of some description, but as I held it in my hand I had no clue exactly what it was other than simply one of the coolest fish I'd ever caught. Later, I'd learn that it was a Caribbean sharpnose puffer, a species I'm certain very few have ever been privileged to catch on the fly. For me, this is what it's all about. Look at this freaky, beautiful little fish!

Caribbean sharpnose puffer, Canthigaster rostrata. Life list fish #153. Rank: species.

That's the last fish I caught on the fly in daylight that day, I spent the rest of my time fishing bait. It lead to a couple of frustrating captures. The next story in the Florida saga will about that frustration, and the redemption that followed. Stay tuned.

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, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon.

Snapper, Puffers, and Snook in Small Canals

What do you do in Florida when it's cold and windy and you aren't in a good trout and redfish spot?

Snook and tarpon aren't fans of the cold. The area we'd elected to spend our first week is an area we'd chosen specifically for it's tarpon and snook potential. Left with wind that made fishing even moderately open water next to impossible and cold that meant fish there probably wouldn't eat anyway, we were left with limited options. The bass freshwater fishing was pretty mediocre in places we'd fished the prior year, when low water had concentrated large numbers of fish in small, isolated pockets. Now the wetlands were flooded and most of the fish were tucked away, spread out in the grass. The best viable option close to camp seemed to be residential saltwater canals, where we could get away from the wind and potentially find some pockets of sheltering snook while also getting shots at new species.

The canal we spent much of our time in alternated between natural mangrove banks and houses with docks, also a seawall or two. There were a few healthy oyster beds here and there which was great to see, and there were fish hanging out around them. I'd rigged my five weight with a size 12 BHHESH, not a bad small shrimp imitation, for these sorts of fish. Small mangrove snappers as it turns out are quite fun on a 5wt. Pound for pound, they've got even wild brown trout beat in the hit and run department. They'd come out and absolutely slam the fly, then dig like hell and sometimes even jump a bit if they were in very shallow water.

Lutjanus griseus

The only predator species that seemed to be working the abundant the abundant school of extremely small baitfish were small crevalle jack.. What species the bait was I have no clue, but the jack eating them were puny. In the main river, we saw big jacks blasting adult mullet. That was spectacular to behold. Loud, fast,and violent are applicable descriptors. I want one of those jacks. THAT would be a blast.

Caranx hippos

What I most wanted, other then for some sign of large predators getting frenzied enough to catch, was a puffer to show up on my nymph. And eventually one did! A checkered puffer, lifer #145.

Sphoeroides testudineus

 Later a frillfin goby found the same fly, the first goby I'd caught in more than a year. I'd caught this species before but I knew crested gobies, a species I hadn't caught, weren't at all unlikely to be in the same area. I hoped one of them would show itself. Gobies are adorable little monsters, popping out from their holes to make quick attacks at intruders and potential food then darting back inside. Often it's a one and done proposition with them. Hook them briefly an lose them, they don't seem likely to come back for seconds.

Bathygobius soporator

The next day, spurred on by warmer weather, somewhat manageable wind, and the crazy big jack blowups we'd seen the day prior, we returned to the same area. The wind was still pretty bad, but the mangrove snappers were, if anything, even more fired up.

Then, it happened. Noah FINALLY caught a snook and got it to hand for long enough to photograph it. I've personally watched him catch a snook larger the most non-Floridian fisherman I know have ever caught, but that was a disaster. I was battling a pelican that had flown into my line while Noah's big snook flopped off his board. He lunged trying to grab it and sliced a chunk out of the tip of his finger on it sharp gill plate. So, unfortunately, Noah can't say his first photographed snook was that monster... but you know what? We love the little ones. Tiny or big, snook remain one of my favorite species of fish to present a fly to. Give me a choice between catching a brown trout or a snook... I'm choosing snook, no further questions.

I blew it with snook that morning. I spooked some big ones and I broke off a small one. Even a small snook can rasp through light mono very quickly, I'm primarily using 30lb fluoro for all my snook fishing. I wasn't using fluoro for the one I broke off, of course. I didn't get a snook that day. That was fine though, the next would prove to be fruitful. More snappers and puffers though? I'll take them. There's nothing like the sort of fishing I was doing in CT. It was a lot of fun on my 5wt.

Though the forecast didn't look to be getting any better in term of wind for days and days and day, Noah and I both had some tricks under our sleeves. I may not be a local, this may have only been my fourth trip fishing in Florida ever, but Noah and I been known to accomplish things with exceptionally limited time and first hand experience before and this trip was not going to be an exception. When you live and breath fish and fishing, it doesn't matter where you go. Patterns reveal themselves and so do paths to success.

Until next time,

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon.

Florida: A Plethora of Weird Fish

If you enjoy what I'm doing here, please share and comment. It is increasingly difficult to maintain this blog under dwindling readership. What best keeps me going so is knowing that I am engaging people and getting them interested in different aspects of fly fishing, the natural world, and art. Follow, like on Facebook, share wherever, comment wherever. Also, consider supporting me on Patreon (link at the top of the bar to the right of your screen, on web version). Every little bit is appreciated! 

"What the f*** is that thing" was the common theme for Noah and I on most of our visits to inlets south of where we were staying on the East Coast. We saw some weird stuff down there. Huge scrawled filefish... like, easily world record sized. All manor of species and color phases of parrotfish. Some very strange wrasse. I saw a huge lime green moray eel. Giant angelfish. There were things swimming in that water that I just could not identify.

This was a life-lister's wet dream. How many species down there would be new ones for me? The number could easily have been north of 50. And throughout the year I have no doubt at least 200 species I've never caught spend some time in this same water. Noah and I knew this before we even saw a South FL inlet, and it's why we fished them so much. We were down there to catch new species, and inlets and piers were going to put us very close to a lot of them.

I myself got 13 new species from one inlet that we fished three times. I'm not sure exactly how many Noah got but it was substantial as well. I should add that just because there were hundreds of fish and a lot of new species didn't make it easy to catch them. I had to work for new species. But the sheer biomass of the place meant I was assured to catch at least a few new ones. If you haven't already read it, this post covers the first trip and six species I got at this inlet: flyfishingcts.blogspot.com. Ideally you should read that one before finishing this one.

Our second visit to this particular inlet was great fun for me because it yielded a few species that I really wanted to get. Of course I started out catching the ever present sergeant majors. We need to find a time when those buggers aren't so prevalent. I do wonder if there even is such a time.

Abudefduf saxatilis

Noah saw a yellow thing in the mix. He dropped his shrimp in front of said yellow thing, then hooked said yellow thing. The yellow thing turned out to be a French grunt. Did I say yellow thing enough? Yellow thing. You'd get it if you had been there.

 Haemulon flavolineatum (yellow thing)

Noah then went up the wall, and I was left to catch one of two new wrasse species I would catch at this inlet. Both have very hilarious names. This one probably has the funnier of the two. On a pheasant tail nymph with a soft plastic tail, I caught two slippery dicks. No, I did not make that name up. They are slippery though, and they are dicks about letting you get your fly back from them. So, aptly named I guess. They are gorgeous little fish though, in contrast to the rather dull colored wrasse we see in New England, bergalls and tautog.

Halichoeres bivittatus

Not long after I caught the slippery dicks I got a couple of damselfish. Some of the damselfish in Florida are very tricky to identify, namely longfin, cocoa, and dusky damselfish. Sergeant majors are a damselfish as well but they stand out from the crowd. Cocoa and longfin damselfish havevery distinct color phases, unfortunately when inshore their color varies almost none from eachother and dusky damselfish. I am fairly confident though that both of the ones I caught were dusky damselfish, Stegastes adustus.

The blue on this one's fin threw me off. Thanks to Patrick Kerwin I learned that dusky may have some blue.

As time wore on I caught fewer and fewer fish, even fewer non-sergeant majors, and even fewer fish on the fly. But eventually I managed to get something interesting to take the artificial again. A bandtail puffer! I had seen a lot of puffers on this trip and I couldn't imagine leaving without at least one, but I thought it would have been either a checkered of southern. I will get those, but catching the less common bandtail was a wonderful compromise.

Bandtail puffer, Sphoeroides spengleri

I believe that was the last fish I caught there that day. But we came back the next for more. We thought there's be more potential for new species there at slack tide. That seemed to be validated. Quickly upon getting there I made casts out into deep water, which was not fishable with the fly rod when the tide was moving, and the first fish I caught was the second wrasse with a funny name. The puddingwife wrasse. In my opinion this was the prettiest fish I have ever caught. 

Puddingwife wrasse, Halichoeres radiatus

Then a yellow thing jumped on my little streamer and I had a French grunt of my own. Slack tide was working out well.

These guys' eyes are just mesmerizing. Haemulon flavolineatum

Then, another grunt species came to the fly, my third species of grunt of this trip: a sailor's choice grunt.  

Haemulon parra

And then, a new snapper species. Schoolmaster snapper. I think these are probably the most handsomely dressed of the snappers. I caught a mangrove snapper a while later, for comparison a photo of that fish follows the photo of the schoolmaster. Though many target snapper species as food fish, keeping a schoolmaster would be a poor decision. They often carry cigutera poisoning, something found in some reef-fish and fish that eat reef-fish. They are so frequently associated with cigutera that in some areas locals just label the species itself poisonous. Though that isn't true... don't eat one. Or any other species you have limited knowledge of, for that matter. 

 Lutjanus apodus

 Lutjanus griseus

Noah caught a couple fish that I was kind of jealous of. One of them was a big, gorgeous terminal phase slippery dick. Another was a juvenile gray triggerfish.

Halichoeres bivittatus, terminal phase (Photo courtesy Noah Johnson)

Balistes capriscus

But the fish I was most jealous of was a really bizarre one. We had seen this thing swimming around for about an hour. We both got casts in front of the thing and both had interest from it. In fact, the second photo in this post shows this fish. At the time we didn't know exactly what it was, which is a shame because it was actually an all tackle world record. Eventually Noah got the fish to take a jig. We walked it down the wall, where I hopped down to help him land it (this is where things broke down if we had wanted to get this fish confirmed as a record). I leadered the fish and led it around the rocks. Touching it was questionable. There were a lot of spines to get poked by and we had no clue what kind of strange toxins this fish could be carrying around with it. 

As it turns out, this was a spotfin porcupinefish. The world record was just over 8lbs, caught by a rather legendary angler in the life-listing community,  Steve Wozniak (not the apple one). This one would have gone 12 easy. And we didn't even properly identify it until we were on our way back to camp. Oops. 

Diodon hystrix

Missed world record opportunity aside, we did really well there on our last visit and really well there in general. We caught a total of 18 species between us at this one inlet, most of them new.

Blue runner,
Horseye jack,
Yellow jack,
Leather jack,
Sergeant major,
Dusky damselfish,
Tomtate grunt,
French grunt,
Sailors choice grunt,
Spottail pinfish,
Pinfish,
Puddingwife wrasse,
Slippery dick,
Mangrove snapper,
Schoolmaster snapper,
Bandtail puffer,
Spotfin porcupinefish,
Gray Triggerfish

That's just wild. And I know we didn't even catch half the number of species we saw there. I can't wait to return to that place. It has so much potential. When we finished out there that evening we headed for our last night of the Florida trip. I wouldn't catch any new species before we left. I ended the trip with 29 new species and 1 new hybrid, bringing my life-list total to 130. My goal of reaching 150 by the end of 2019 seems very attainable if not surpassable. Time to put an inhuman amount of effort into catching fish people rarely think to target.

This Florida trip is not entirely complete though. Expect one more post, hopefully just as exciting as the rest have been. Unfortunately it seems you all haven't enjoyed these as much as I did as my readership has fallen even further over the last month, but I plan to do more trips like this in the near future whether or not they result in good numbers here on the blog.