Venomous Fish and the Bridge Monster

Some fishing days are made permanently memorable with one striking occurrence, like the capture of a remarkable fish. Others are made memorable by the sum total of a bunch of independently notable moments, surroundings, and the people you are with, though individually each wouldn't have made the day as exciting as it turned out to be. This post is about a day of fishing that I will never forget because it was full of extremely exciting and independently notable events. Each event on its own would have been memorable, and put together they result in one of the most wild and unique fishing days I have ever had.

On March 5th, Noah and I returned to the bridge we fished the night prior, spurred on by our quick success there, and began targeting the reef fish there. I started out fishing small nymphs and streamers under indicators again, this time defiant on getting new species on the fly and avoiding using bait as long as possible. I worked the water like it were a trout stream, casting my rig up and across current, mending, and watching my indicator for any shudder or tick or, in the best case scenario for it to just drop abruptly. What it produced, very immediately, was a ton of hairy blennies. But eventually my rod bent under the weight of something a little more substantial, and when I saw the fish break the surface I could hardly contain my excitement. This was likely the most dangerous fish I'd ever set a hook in, and I'm the sort of person that gets enjoyment out of being around wildlife that can be dangerous under the wrong conditions; be it venomous snakes, large ungulates, big cats, or, in this case, a venomous fish. There are a number of venomous fish species in South Florida, including invasive lionfish, but in this case I'd caught myself a spotted scorpionfish... on a nymph under an indicator. Ain't that somethin'?

Spotted scorpionfish, Scopraena plumieri. Life list fish #159. Rank: species.

The dorsal spines of a scorpionfish inject a painful venom into anything they penetrate. Stepping on, poking, or grabbing a scorpionfish is not a good idea. Though not deadly, any envenomation by a scorpionfish demands medical attention. I was very careful with this fish.

Upon release it was quite clear how someone could step on a scorpionfish. He is there... can you see him?

Not that long after I caught the first, I caught another spotted scorpionfish. Look at this fish and consider everything about it and everything that went into catching it. Look how beautiful it is. Look at how well evolved it is as a small ambush predator. Now you may have some sense of exactly why it is that I do what I do. These fish are incredible.

I caught a number of other species on the fly that day, but no new species. I did catch a schoolmaster snapper, a species I'd only caught one of before.

Schoolmaster snapper, Lutjanus apodus

And, after a while, I started to fish bait in an attempt to catch enough good sized spottail pinfish for a meal later. While using bait I caught this beautiful terminal phase slippery dick: 

Halichoeres bivittatus

By midday we had a pretty decent pile of spottail pinfish and Noah decided to cut some up to use as bait. Standing in the water at the edge of the sloping concrete bridge abutment, he started to cut up the fish and discard the guts in the water next to him.

Uhh... don't do this. It's a stupid idea. Don't essentially chum the very water you are standing. 

I was minding my own business 20 yards away when I heard Noah give a frightened yell and jump out of the water. He yelled "Holy s*** I just got attacked by a huge moray eel!". Attracted by the pinfish guts, a green moray eel had lunged at him and fortunately not made contact. I went over there and we looked around to see if the fish was still around. It was, we found it sticking its big scary head out of the crevice under the concrete slab. It was indeed an imposing creature. We immediately set about trying to catch it.

Noah was the first person to hook it. A chunk of pinfish very quickly got grabbed. It didn't last, and soon Noah was running up to the car for the shark rod. He hadn't even left when I put a chunk of pinfish on a fly and lobbed it to the monster. It ate, I set the hook, and it promptly retracted into the crevice. I was still on though and the fish hadn't yet buried itself. I put my hand in the face of the reel, locking it down completely, pointed the rod directly at the fish. To my enjoyment this actually worked quite well, I was able to keep the fish from going deeper into the crevice. I Even got it to come out a little further. But 30lb fluoro can only take being grated against cement for so long before it gives, and eventually it broke. But I'm confident that, had I been using wire, I'd have been able to pull that fish out of its hole with my 10 weight. I very nearly did so with fluoro. I'd been told in the past I wouldn't be able to fight and land a moray eel on a fly rod... I'm now entirely certain I could do so, but less certain I could easily convince one to eat an artificial. Noah came back with the shark rod. Things devolved into chaos. The shark rod did not last. He stood much too close to the fish's position, forcing him to have too much of a high rod angle. I repeatedly told him to walk backwards. Yes, the water was deeper behind him, but I could see what was coming. On the third time Noah hooked the big morray (this was a remarkably persistent fish), when it broke off the rod whipped back, hit the bridge piling, and exploded. I knew it would happen. High rod angles on big fish are almost always a bad idea.

Eventually, we just did what we should have done from the start and tried to handline the fish. We lost a good many hooks to it before it finally decided to leave, and perhaps the most remarkable thing is that most of the hooks we lost to it were never even in its mouth. The fish was so strong that it was able to break off the hook simply by yanking on the chunk of meat. After that monster green moray left, we were int the mood for redemption and looked round for another. There was a tiny one that I embarrassed for bit, but eventually we found  substantial one. It wasn't nearly as big as the first but big enough. I tied a size two hook only 90lb wire, and Noah and I prepared to wrench the fish out of its rocky hole as a team. I caught a hairy blenny, which the moray consumed whole, somehow without getting the hook. I caught more bait, put it in front of the fish, and this time it got hooked. We pulled like hell and walked toward the bank, wrenching that powerful creature out of its hole and finally catching the little monster. It was an incredible and even scary creature. We were on top of the moon in that moment.

Gymnothorax funebris

Sometimes, the struggle is what makes the day. When you plan on fighting the bridge troll, you'd better come prepared and with your wits about you. That first moray kicked our asses. But I've very proud that I fought it on the fly rod and it wasn't the fact that I was using fly tackle that led to the loss of the fish. I WILL catch a large moray eel on fly tackle, if only so that some people have to eat crow....

One rod, all of our pinfish, a few hairy blennies, a couple feet of line, and a bunch of hooks were lost that day. I'm not sure I'd change the outcome though. It's a much better story.

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. 

Indicator Fishing for Reef Fish: Failure and Redemption

Maybe this would more appropriately be called float fishing for reef fish, because for the most part that's exactly what it was. Whether indicator nymphing is fly fishing is neither here nor there, I contest that it is, but I was categorically not fly fishing.

After catching three remarkable new species at Boca Raton Inlet Park, Noah and I left to try a place nearby that we'd never fished before. Satisfied with how I'd already done, I wanted to just relax and catch a bunch of fish, so I decided to fish with bait the rest of the day. I tipped my fly with squid and affixed an indicator to my leader and promptly began catching a ton of fish. Noah followed suit and started using a float as well. It was wildly effective, didn't result in as many hangups, and produced  variety of species.

Slippery dick, Halichoeres bivittatus

Pinfish, Lagodon rhomboides

Spottail pinfish, Diplodus holbrookii 

Slippery dick, terminal phase.

 I spent a lot of the time just sitting on the wall, relaxing, enjoying a kind of fishing not comparable to anything I've done in the northeast. In the back of my mind though was the distinct and very likely possibility that I could at any point hook a species that I'd never caught before. I don't keep a hook and line lifelist, I'm not particularly interested in trying to catch every species possible on hook and line. I am really only interested in catching as many species as possible on the fly. So any species I caught doing this would represent, essentially, a failure on my part to take advantage of a possible opportunity to catch a new species on the fly.

Inevitably, I caught a species I'd not before: a lane snapper, probably the prettiest snapper species in Florida. That was a disappointment. I would have loved to have caught this fish on the fly, and maybe I could have.

Lane snapper,  Lutjanus synagris

I didn't change what I was doing though as I really wasn't that confident I'd be able to catch a lane snapper on the fly at this spot anyway. a short time later I caught a very cool looking scrawled cowfish. I was thankful I'd already caught one on the fly the same day.

Scrawled cowfish, Acanthostracion quadricornis

Mangrove snapper, Lutjanus griseus

About an hour later, another species I'd never caught before ate my squid. This time it was a grunt.

Smallmouth grunt, Haemulon chrysargyreum

With two species that would have been exciting editions to my life list caught on bait I started just fishing the fly under the indicator hoping to redeem myself, and I did catch fish on the fly... just tomtates and sergeant majors though. I left not really feeling frustrated, because what had transpired wasn't at all surprising. But I decided I'd like not to fish bit anymore that day. We headed back north but visited a place that Noah had found, a spot that definitely contained a lot of reef fish based on diving videos Noah had seen. Though it was now night, I kept with the indicator technique as I could still see it in the glare of the streetlights and it allowed me to keep the fly suspended on long drifts. I caught a new species on a small Clouser under the indicator almost immediately: a blue striped grunt. The the smallmouth grunt would remain one of only a tiny handful of fish species that I've caught but not caught on the fly, at least I'd add a fourth species of grunt to my life list. And it was a beautiful fish.

Blue striped grunt, Haemulon sciurus. Life list fish #154. Rank: Species

I then hooked and lost two fish on the same small clouser that fought in an incredibly strange fashion, completely unlike any fish I'd ever hooked before. They were both substantial, and the second broke off. In retrospect I think they could have been small morray eels but I'm not sure. The fight was closer to that of an eel than anything else I can think of. However I wasn't out of the count yet. Changing to a size 12 Hare's Ear, I then caught my lane snapper!

Lane snapper, Lutjanus synagris. Life list fish #155

I felt a bit redeemed by those two fish, and we'd be back at this same spot very soon to see what we could find there during the day. We had no idea what we were in for.

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.

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.

Reef Fish Frustrations

If you go to South Florida and you want to catch reef fish, don't use a fly rod and flies. It's probably the stupidest thing you can do. I got fairly lucky in getting a number of species to eat on my first attempts more than a year ago, but I caught far fewer fish than if felt like I should have and I spent most of my time watching my flies sink through hoards of brightly colored fish that had little to no interest in it or would merely give it a tiny peck and then move on. I had a sneaking suspicion that, having gotten the easy species to fool with artificials out of the way on the first couple tries, I'd probably have a much harder go at it this time. But we rolled up to Boca Raton Inlet knowing full well we'd see a ton of odd and unique fish there, and I felt I had a few tricks up my sleeve.

I didn't, nothing changed.

I've made no progress in determining better ways to target these species on the fly, and I'm not sure there even is progress to be made. Maybe a little but not much. That said, collectively "reef fish" are a treasure trove of really cool new species and I find it really hard to ignore them. So, I beat my head against the wall for a while... then I tip the flies with bait for a while just to catch a bunch of fish quickly. Then I beat my head against the wall some more. And I do it for hours. And it hurts a little knowing at any moment, I could catch something really damn cool on bait that I haven't caught on the fly yet. Somehow, though my catch ratio on bait to on flies is something like 8/1, I'd managed to avoid such a catastrophe simply by not putting bait on species that I could see would be new and spending the majority of my time fishing un-tipped flies. This wouldn't work forever, as it turns out. Or, rather, when I got sick of not catching as many fish as I could be and started fishing bait exclusively, I caught some things I'd not caught yet. But that's a topic for another day. Every fish pictured in this post caught by myself was caught on an artificial fly. All you need to know is that trying to catch reef fish on artificial flies is a grind. I brought this frustration upon myself, you may say, so I have no right to complain. And you might be right.

Boca Raton Inlet is a known spot by lifelisters all over the country and the world. If you are heavily invested in the search for fish species you've never caught before and pay attention to what other people with the same obsession are doing, you've seen Boca Raton named and you've seen fish that were caught there on video or in photos. So I don't particularly mind naming it, because that's really what the place is best for and a bunch of lifelisters sporadically showing up trying to catch small unusual reef fish isn't really the sort of thing that ruins a place like this. There's really not much else that it is consistently good for. 

My strategy, basically, was to put small pale nymphs or bread crumb flies in front of the smaller species, and things that looked like sargassum, algae, or chunks of meat in front of the larger species. I also fished some small brightly colored nymphs, and things with rubbery or foam element in their construction to give fish something to chew on. I even fished mop flies a bit. Considering how many fish were down there in the rocks, hovering under the buoys,  and schooling along the wall, nothing really drew a lot of attention. It seemed pretty random. Every once in a while, very suddenly, a fish would take a fly. The sergeant majors and spottail pinfish though were very easy, those could be fooled relatively easily simply by chumming them into a frenzy and dropping a fly in the mix and I'd catch plenty otherwise anyway. They become very annoying very fast.

Abudefduf saxatilis

Diplodus holbrookii

Down in the rocks are probably the third easiest fish to catch on the fly in Boca Raton Inlet, the blennies. Fortunately for me, the first blenny to come topside on our first visit this trip wasn't a hairy blenny, the species I'd already caught, but a masquerader blenny, distinguished by a more ambiguous black oppercular spot lacking a complete white/blue ring around it. 

Labrisomus conditus, masquerader blenny. Lifelit fish #146. Rank: Species

One of the diverse grouple of fish I was hoping to pick off a few new species from we grunts. There are a lot of grunts I've not yet caught. Of course, I've gotten the easier ones out of the way it seems and could only catch those. 

French grunt, Haemulon flavolineatum

Sailor's grunt, Haemulon parra

Tomtate, Haemulon aurolineatum

 Even when I thought I had a new grunt species, an odd looking small specimen with three distinct lateral bars and a black caudal spot, it turned out to simply be a juvenile sailor's grunt.

Haemulon parra, juvenile

Meanwhile, Noah was catching parrotfish, which I found very hard not to be jealous about. 

Stoplight parrotfish, initial phase, Sparisoma viride

Parrotfish are wrasse, and I was catching wrasse. Just not particularly cool wrasse. The most abundant species of wrasse in most of the south Florida inlets seems to be the aptly and humorously named slippery dick. I think they're cool looking fish, but they're so difficult to handle it makes it less fun to catch them. 

Slippery dick, Halichoeres bivittatus

Eventually though, I managed a sea chub. Knowing well there were two very similar species I'd only caught one of, yellow chub and Bermuda chub, I photographed it thoroughly. Not much later I caught another and did the same. And right at the end of the day I caught a third, not including the two others I'd caught in between on bait. Bermuda chubs have 11 soft anal fin rays, Yellow chubs have 12-14. I caught one or the other back in January 2019, I'm not sure which, so one of the two is lifer #147 as I caught both species on the fly this time.

Bermuda chub, Kyphosus sectatrix

Yellow chub, Kyphosus incisor

A third and final new species found its way to hand somehow as well, a new damselfish species. 

Longfin damselfish, Stegastes diencaeus. Lifelist fish #148. Rank: species.

 Now, you may see that I caught ten species and three new species and wonder how I could possibly complain about how difficult the fishing was with the fly. Now consider the fact that I was looking into water just packed full of fish species I'd never caught, hundreds of possible targets, and I only managed to catch three new species. The bulk of what I caught was the same fish: sergeant majors. So many sergeant majors. If I could opt out of ever catching a sergeant major ever again, I gladly would. They're beautiful little fish but I'd settle for just seeing them in the water and never hooking another in my life. All the parrotfishes, other wrasses like bluehead wrasse, the burrfishes, the filefish, the cowfish... they seemed like long shots. But I wouldn't stop beating my head against the wall just yet, and occasionally, I was breaking a piece loose.

Tricolor heron hunting and boat-tailed grackle sizing it up for a potential mugging.

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.