Ancient Greeks believed the sun god Helios, offspring of Hyperion and Theia, crossed the heavens every day in a burning chariot. With our modern sensibilities, we snicker and guffaw at our simple-minded forebears for ascribing deity status to a sky-crossing orb of flame. Oh, the naivety!

Actually, a significant cohort exists among south Louisiana anglers who rival the early Grecians in their love, worship and adoration for the almighty Helios. These are the guys who push their boats and motors to the absolute limits to access glorified mud puddles deep in the Louisiana marsh, places that seem inaccessible and entirely too shallow to support any fish bigger than a bluegill.

But somehow, these backwaters — colloquially referred to as “duck ponds” — are exactly where thick-bodied redfish want to be, engaging in a Sisyphean quest to fill their bottomless bellies. The duck ponds are an all-you-can-eat buffet of crabs, shrimp, killifish and finger mullet, and the reds push into them in numbers from one to hundreds and absolutely terrorize the local baitfish population.

Sight Fishing for Louisiana’s Redfish

In these backwater ponds, which are often filtered by submerged aquatic vegetation, water clarity can range from gin-clear to tannic, and the redfish in them glow like stop signs — but only when the sun’s out. In fact, under a cloudless sky, the fish are so easy to spot, shallow-water anglers won’t even make a blind cast. I mean, what’s the point? They’ll simply pole around in the really shallow stuff or use a trolling motor in water that’s deep enough for it, and scan the water through polarized sunglasses, searching for the fish. Baits dangle patiently at the ends of rods, eagerly awaiting the moment a fish is spotted and they can fulfill their purpose.

Accurate casts are absolutely critical, and placement depends entirely on the demeanor and angle of the fish. Generally, an angler wants to cast past the red at a trajectory that will allow the lure to be retrieved a couple feet ahead of the fish. On some days, it’s best to drop the lure when the fish first sees it, and on others, bites are triggered when the angler plays keep away with the lure. Bites are intense, as the clear water allows every aspect of the take to be witnessed — the charging at the bait, the flaring of the gills and the vanishing of the lure as it’s sucked, along with the water around it, into the gaping maw of a hungry redfish.

Then the fights are the ultimate in intensity. Hook a redfish in a deep bayou, and it will head immediately for the bottom, trying to pull you, your rod and your boat down with it. But in the shallows, that’s not an option, so the fish strips as much line as it can on its first run, and then circles the boat like a distance runner on an Olympic track. That’s especially true with fish that locals call “overs” — redfish that stretch beyond the 27-inch maximum size limit.

Oversize Redfish in the Marsh

Biologists say that’s right around the size that redfish mature sexually and get the urge to move out to the Gulf to spawn. But many are late-bloomers that seem stuck in perpetual adolescence and refuse to put on their big-boy pants. Sometimes fish up to 35 inches are encountered in the ponds.

Regardless of size, these shallow, clear-water fish are the prettiest seen anywhere. Like chameleons, their skin changes color to suit their environment. Deep-water or dirty-water reds will be silver in color, with dark-bronze or brown backs, but in the shallows, the fish are bright orange, with the rich color often extending all the way around their normally white bellies.

This trait obviously gives them some camouflage advantage when targeting prey, but it completely betrays them when they themselves are the prey. Even Ray Charles could spot them. But only when the sun’s out. On cloudy days, the fish are nearly impossible to see, and lots of blind casts are necessary for success. It’s still fun and productive, but there’s nothing like casting to a fish you see and watching it suck in a lure. That’s why shallow-water redfish anglers are strict adherents to a religion, and Helios is their god.

The post Sight Fishing Louisiana’s Duck Ponds appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Even as Capt. Lori Hall wrapped the anchor line around a cleat, I cast across a canal a short run from the boat ramp at Simmons Park in Ruskin, Florida. As my Yo-Zuri 3D inshore twitchbait touched down about a foot from the grassy bank, in inches-deep water, I quickly began a jerk-pause retrieve to keep it off the bottom. About three jerks into it, something smashed the lure, and a small snook sailed out of the water. Hardly a trophy, but still, a pretty nice payoff for the first cast of that fall day.

Hall, who runs Ladyfish Charters in Tampa Bay, fishes from Apollo Beach to the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. She had promised we’d find willing snook on the low flood tide, and so we did. That was our main quarry of the morning, and we caught a bunch. The twitchbait proved a hot ticket for quite a few snook—and many missed strikes—while live pilchards (more properly known as scaled sardines) also accounted for plenty of action. Hall’s generous live chumming near the boat certainly didn’t hurt.

Fishing Spots in Tampa Bay

A bit farther south from where we fished is the Terra Ceia Aquatic Preserve, also a great spot for snook. I’ve fished there successfully with angler Jose Chavez, a fishing industry vet, where we caught snook in the virtually hidden openings of creeks and bays.

“That’s one of my favorite areas to fish,” agrees retired guide Capt. Ray Markham, out of St. Petersburg. “The habitat in Terra Ceia has been relatively untouched by development and the encroachment of people, with lush mangroves and oyster bars in the clean water,” Markham says.

With winds light, we switched during the afternoon from fishing mangrove-rimmed bays and canals to drifting grass flats in the open bay in 3 or 4 feet of water. The turtle grass offered a welcome change from many areas of the beleaguered Indian River Lagoon on the east side of the state that I was used to. When it comes to water quality and habitat, Tampa Bay has really cleaned up its act over the past. But Tampa Bay waters do face new water quality issues, as do many parts of Florida.

Over a couple of days, we fished only a small ­portion of Tampa Bay; I felt we could have spent many days doing so and not have begun to explore even that limited area. In fact, Tampa Bay is Florida’s largest open-water estuary, covering more than 400 square miles. The main shipping channel is a busy place, since Tampa is one of the 10 largest ports in the nation. Fortunately, we remained far from that sort of traffic.

Tarpon Fishing Tampa Bay

The high flooding tide meant good conditions, and while Hall often finds redfish ­readily available over these flats, we didn’t locate them that afternoon. But from her high vantage point standing at the Blue Wave’s second station, Hall did spot a big bonnethead shark cruising the ­shallows, in its typical zigzag fashion, just off the bow.

“Bonnethead, 10 o’clock!” she called out, and my daughter, Rachel, visiting from Virginia, dropped a pilchard just ahead of the fish, about 40 feet out. It looked like the shark would pass nearby but keep moving on when it suddenly turned 90 degrees and pounced on its newfound prize. The circle hook bit where it was supposed to, and the fish offered a real test for a tiny Daiwa with 10-pound braid and St. Croix Legend XTreme Inshore rod, making repeated runs around the boat.

Chavez focuses much of his attention on snook in the lower bay, particularly during outgoing tides, when he works mangrove points, oyster bars, docks and potholes. “Snook basically set up on prime ambush points where there’s a good current,” he says. Find places where water has to funnel through a choke point on an ebb tide, and “you can expect snook to be there waiting for an easy meal.”

Read Next: Tarpon Fishing Tips

As much fun as snook are, Hall—who has been fishing Tampa Bay since the mid-’80s—cites tarpon as her favorite of all the bay’s many gamefish species. And she’s caught some monsters, including “the greatest catch of my life, a 214-pound tarpon.” Once in a while, Murphy takes a nap, as on that day when ESPN happened to be on board filming a show and caught it all.

For tarpon, Markham’s a summertime guy. While even then it can be hit or miss, the action can also be “insane—especially when you see pods of fish coming right at the boat,” he says. “Big-game fishing in the shallows.” Then, he focuses on days around new and full moons when big tides flush crabs and shrimp out of the bays. Similarly, Chavez likes May and June for tarpon, when they might move in by the thousands, he says.

Fishing All Year Long in Tampa Bay

And while Markham is also a snook devotee, he says: “In the fall, I love fishing reds. They can be big and, like bulldogs, they just don’t give up. When the water temperature in the bay drops to between 72 and 78 degrees, with oxygen levels strong, that’s prime topwater time.”

Of course, jacks of various sizes patrol the bay, and when they’re on the attack, can be a blast. They gave us some good battles on our second day out with Hall. Somewhat less likely, a nice flounder surprised one angler. Not many Tampa Bay fishermen target flounder, mostly catching them incidentally, but they’re here. “Find good sand-and-shell or grassy habitat with channels and potholes in moving water, and you’re likely to find flounder much of the year,” Markham says.

With so much variety when it comes to ­gamefish species, the bay offers worthwhile action in all seasons. Chavez does indeed fish it year-round but says winter’s his preferred season. That’s when he really likes fishing the negative low tides, “especially during the start of the incoming. That really narrows down the places where the fish can be, and you get to transition up the flat to mangrove shorelines with them as the tide comes in.” Chavez acknowledges that conditions in the dead of winter are often cold and breezy, “but the fishing’s great, and it’s uncrowded because most people don’t want to deal with the discomfort. It really is my favorite time of year.”

Catching Two Redfish at the Same Time

These productive waters harbor many surprises, and Markham recounts his most indelible Tampa Bay memory: “One morning I was fishing a small cove within lower Tampa Bay using ultralight spinning tackle with 6-pound Ande tournament monofilament and a tandem-rigged jig. As I gazed down the shoreline, I saw what looked like a school of huge jack crevalle racing up the shore, eating everything in its path. Mullet were flying, schools of glass minnows were showering, and everything was getting devoured. I waited until the school came just within casting range and made a throw ahead of the lead fish.

“Instantly I was hooked up, and my 70-yard spool of line disappeared at a quick rate. I started the outboard to give chase and get back line. As I did, I got close enough to see that I hadn’t hooked a jack crevalle but a big redfish that looked to be at least 34 inches. When it saw the boat, it bolted back toward the school.

“As I followed it to regain line, the fish caught up to the school, and I felt a big thump on the line. Instantly the fish was ripping off drag again, and then the line went limp and I cranked hard, ­realizing the fish was running toward the boat.

“That’s when I saw that I now had two fish on my line—and the second fish was even larger. But the tandem rig soon parted, and I was left with only one fish—the larger one. I fought it for another 15 minutes or so before I finally subdued it, taking a measurement before I released her. She was a 46-incher with a massive girth. She bottomed out both scales on my boat, so I don’t know the weight, but to this day it remains the biggest redfish I have ever landed, and on 6-pound ­tournament mono at that!”

Planning A Fishing Trip to Lower Tampa Bay

Who: We fished with Capt. Lori Hall, Ladyfish Charters (ladyfish​charters.com, 813-967-5032). Good knowledge, good rig, good gear; easy to recommend. Special kudos to Hall for her people skills—her patience and great sense of humor make her an exceptional guide for families who want to fish the bay.

Where: We stayed on Anna Maria Island, which guards the yawning entrance to Tampa Bay at its southern end, due west of Bradenton. There, we spent several days and nights at Waterline Resort (waterlineresort.com) in one of its Island Suites, and were thoroughly impressed. The suite was provisioned more like a luxury home than a vacation unit, and the kitchen had everything we could possibly want or need. Comfortable and quiet, the suite made us regret having to leave. Also, the resort staff raised “cheery” to a whole new level I hadn’t seen; if these folks don’t truly love their jobs, they’re world-class actors.

More: The Tampa Bay/St. Petersburg area has much to offer for extended trips or larger groups. You can explore it all online at visittampabay.com and visit ­stpeteclearwater.com.

The post Fish Tampa Bay for Inshore Action appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Leave the micro-skiff at home and keep the light-tackle outfits in the garage. If you want to catch bull redfish, think deep water and make sure to bring out the big guns.

The differences between adult and puppy red drum are so vast, you might as well treat the two like different animals. You’ll need to if you want to catch bull reds. Adult redfish lose their endearing adolescent spots, replaced with armor for scales and a caricature mouth only a carp could love. Their demeanor is bullish, using current and mass to fight down-and-dirty. And their meat turns from refined to tough, mirroring their aggressive mentality.

Bull redfish are the “big uglies” TV football commentators always talk about. Although “big ugly” is truly a nickname for a different drum — the black drum. Want to know how to catch these red drum? Conquering them requires sound technique, strength, specialized tactics and a keen eye. Learn how some of the best bull-beaters in the biz stay on top of their game.

Where to Catch Bull Redfish

Bull redfish inhabit waters from Chesapeake Bay through the Gulf of Mexico, making this illustrious species readily available to huge numbers of anglers. Their pervasiveness is outstanding but requires anglers to understand local population habits.

In the Chesapeake, May through September is the optimal time to target big reds in nearshore waters. Giant reds school up in spring outside Hatteras and Ocracoke inlets before moving into Pamlico Sound for the summer spawning season. In fall, those same reds leave en masse and stay along the beaches until water temperatures plummet, pushing them offshore for winter. The Cape Lookout fall run lasts into December and sometimes all through a mild winter.

In Florida, northeast bull redfish start spawning in deeper sections of the St. Johns River during the first big moon in August. In the Gulf, Tampa anglers head to deeper waters near Fort Desoto, off St. Pete, next to the Skyway Bridge and near Egmont Key in fall and early spring. Florida Panhandle action starts right around Halloween and lasts all the way to February, with the most productive time in November and December near the beaches. These large schools of redfish can even be found off the coast of Louisiana and Texas, and range from 500 to 5,000 fish.

Your fishing location will dictate the season to fish, but once you’ve figured out when, and a general where, the task turns to locating the red drum schools.

Find the Hot Spot for Bull Redfish

Locating bull redfish can be difficult, so consider every tool in your arsenal.

“Sometimes I’ll look for indicator species such as cownose rays to lead me to schools of redfish,” says Capt. Tyler Nonn, of Chesapeake Bay, Virginia. “After the fish move out of their early-season patterns, anglers can bottomfish outside the inlets, shoals and ledges in up to 50 feet of water.”

Concentrations of menhaden near drop-offs and ledges of a shoal are a good sign to look for on your bottom machine, especially at the mouth of the Chesapeake. Later in the year, fish can be marked on bottom machines under and around schools of small bluefish or spinner sharks.

“Red drum have a very unique ­signature, much like amberjack,” says Capt. Brian Horsley, of Oregon Inlet, North Carolina. “They will show on your bottom machine as layers, and sometimes they’ll mark diagonally. Deep reds are difficult to target; most anglers actually find them while fishing for something else.”

I had my first run-in with Panama City Beach bull redsyears ago during a paddle-craft media event. Only a few of us had ever fished off the beaches in kayaks, and we were content to target red snapper and groupers with metal flutter jigs. After gathering over good marks on the bottom machine, we dropped down quickly to see what was there. To our surprise, all three of us soon landed 20-plus-pound red drum. That’s when I learned that if you can find the reds bunched up, they’ll eat just about anything.

Redfish in the Panhandle and Tampa areas start to show in strong numbers only when the water temperatures hit the mid-60s, says Capt. John Rivers, who’s fished both areas extensively but now guides in Tampa.

“One easy way to find bull reds is to look for birds diving on the large schools of baitfish that the redfish have pushed to the surface,” says Rivers. “Another way is to have a reliable bottom machine with side imaging that can mark fish when there’s no surface activity.”

In Jacksonville, Capt. Kirk Waltz searches the mouth of the St. Johns River as far upriver as EverBank Field (home of the Jaguars) downtown.

“I begin my search by watching the bottom recorder for distinct breaks on the edges of deep water adjacent to the shipping channel,” says Waltz. “These bottom-contour changes look almost like offshore ledges but can also be sloping drops from deep to shallow water.”

Waltz believes the reds use ledges to block current to conserve energy but also to provide ambush spots as bait washes overhead. Most of these spots are from 29 to 46 feet deep.

Best Lures and Baits for Bull Redfish

Your redfish tackle can make all the difference. The closest thing to a guaranteed bite, especially after locating fish, is to bait with fresh bunker or blue crab on the bottom. Terminal tackle is a simple three-way swivel system — the same rig many anglers use to bottomfish offshore — using 60- to 80-pound ­fluorocarbon, a 5/0 to 7/0 circle hook and a loop to interchange bank sinkers from 6 to 10 ounces.

“I like fresh blue crabs, mullet, pogies or ladyfish chunks,” says Waltz. “Chumming can be very effective. I like to find a spot and deploy four rods using two different baits to see what their preference is. A good soak of 15 to 30 minutes is preferred to allow the scent track to feed back in a light current.”

For the best redfish lures, captains Horsley and Rivers both prefer bucktails ranging from 1 to 8 ounces. “When they are schooled up, they are not too smart and will eat just about anything in their face,” jokes Horsley. Rivers dresses his bucktails with plastics. “I’ll use a 1½-ounce Spro bucktail jig in white, pink or chartreuse with a 4-inch soft-plastic tail,” he says. “Some guys use a plain 1-ounce jig rigged with a 7-inch curly tail.”

What’s the best bull redfish rod and reel? A 7-foot heavy-action rod paired with a 6,000-plus-class spinning reel, spooled with 50-plus-pound braid, is a great setup for any situation in which an angler will encounter bull redfish. Nonn prefers Shimano reels with PowerPro braid, while Waltz uses Penn reels with Berkley braid.

“If the fish are finicky and won’t touch jigs or dead bait, cast out a live bait rigged on a 3/0 circle hook and 40-pound fluoro,” says Rivers. “The [minimalistic] rig catches fish when nothing else will around Tampa Bay.”

Topwater Lures for Bull Redfish

When conditions are right, large schools of reds will hang at the surface in deep water. Each captain I spoke with encountered this behavior, so it’s not location specific.

“When an angler finds an aggregation on top, it’s best to pick off fish from outskirts of the school and try to keep the boat away to avoid putting them down,” says Capt. Tyler Nonn. “Doubles and triples are real possibilities.”

Nonn will cast large soft plastics, such as Hogy Lures, while Horsley and Rivers prefer to work loud surface poppers. “As long as the birds aren’t diving around the large schools, it’s a blast to watch reds fight over and try to smash your plug,” says Rivers.

One sign that bull redfish are around but not necessarily at the surface is the presence of mud balls.

“Reds are famous for attacking schools of bait on the bottom during the spring, and are easily detected by the huge muds under the bait pods,” says Capt. Kirk Waltz. “Catch a few baits from the edges of these schools, and flip them back into the mud balls for quick hookups.”

The post Fishing for Bull Redfish appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

The water along the upper Texas coast usually stays too murky for sight fishing, but on this particular late fall day, it looked crystal clear in the tiny canal that runs along Highway 87 in Bridge City. I saw flounder everywhere. I could see some as sandy outlines on the bottom; others aggressively blasted toward the surface, feeding on shrimp. Certainly, this would be a flounder fisherman’s dream come true. Not so. I offered multiple baits as I walked along the canal’s edge. The flounder refused all of them.

Use Smaller Lures When Flounder Won’t Bite

Having just returned from a crappie-fishing expedition, I still had a medium-light-action spinning rod rigged with fluorocarbon line and a 2-inch curl-tailed grub in the back of my truck. A curl tail is my favorite flounder lure but this one was half the size of my normal presentation.

Out of desperation, I walked back to the truck and grabbed the rig. Then, I waited for one of the feeding flounder to move. The first cast produced nothing. But the second one scored and so did the third. By the end of the day, I had released 17 flounder.

That unexpected windfall happened in late November, just after the peak of the fall flounder migration into the Gulf of Mexico. On that day I learned a valuable lesson that allowed me to score on quality flounder during the run as well as successfully extend fishing efforts into the winter.

A few years back, a gentleman named Ben Jarrett outfished me on a redfish trip by using a tiny topwater when I was throwing a super-size Super Spook. “Elephants eat peanuts,” he said, echoing the familiar expression. To this day that serves as a reminder that sometimes I need to downsize gear to catch big fish.

While big flounder sometimes eat large mullet, they seem just as satisfied eating 100 tiny menhaden. They ambush prey, so they tend to feed on what the currents bring them. In the late fall and winter, that’s often tiny baitfish and crustaceans.

Light-Tackle Flounder Fishing

My favorite rod for this application is a medium-action Abu Garcia combo spooled with 8-pound-test fluorocarbon line. Fluorocarbon features the same refractive properties as water, and is killer for catching flounder in clear water in particular. It also offers better abrasion resistance than monofilament.

For general flounder fishing, I actually prefer braided line, especially when pursuing big fish. I normally use 50-pound SpiderWire on medium-heavy-action rods. However, when using microplastics, I need a finesse approach. Yes, I lose a few with the light tackle but I get far more bites than on the other rigs, starting about the third week in November through Valentine’s Day.

Soft Plastic Baits for Flounder Fishing

My favorite micro lures include the 2-inch Mr. Twister Teenie (in pink for off-colored water or luminescent for clear water), and the Mr. Twister Sassy Shad in the 2.5-inch size and in clear silver-flake/black-back. Mr. Crappie’s Shadpole Curlytail in the salt-and-pepper color and the Bobby Garland Baby Shad in the eclipse or hologram-ghost patterns also work. All of my small lures for flounder come from the freshwater world, which shows we should not limit ourselves to a particular section of the tackle shop.

If the water looks dingy, fish obnoxious colors like pink but if it’s clear, use natural colors. Flounder are very visual fish and sensitive to tiny changes in water clarity and lure-color presentation.

I rig small plastics on a 1/16-ounce jighead and crawl them slowly across the bottom. If you feel a hard “thump,” count to two and set the hook. If you feel a slight tap on the line, wait about 10 seconds and then set the hook. Sometimes flounder simply grab a lure and hold on. Give them a few moments to move the lure inside their mouths.

How to Find Flounder Late in the Season

To target late-season flounder, look for canals and shorelines that provide the fish with quick access to deep water. When temperatures fall, these holdover flounder move into deeper, warmer water but come back shallow to feed as temperatures rise. Generally speaking, the southern half of a bay system and channels leading to the Gulf produce best.

When you start hearing about anglers catching big trout along the spoils in ship channels and around deep-water drop-offs, go to those same locations and look for flounder. Both species seem to move from deep to shallow water at similar times.

When south winds push slightly warmer water in from the Gulf, fish the rising tide for good action. Slight variations in temperature can make a huge difference to flounder. Any south-facing shoreline can also be good on days with strong wind because baitfish push up against the banks.

As fall segues into winter, fish slow. If you think you’re fishing too slow, you’re probably not fishing slow enough. Start with a super-slow approach, and then if you’re not getting bit, speed up. The fish don’t scatter at this time of year, so locate fish and focus on an area with a high probability of catches. Once you establish a bite, fish slowly and be aware of their delicate strikes.

When to Keep Flounder and When to Release Them

Flounder are super popular all along the Gulf Coast, but some issues have erupted for the stock due to rising Gulf water temperatures, commercial pressure, and other factors. In 2021, Texas instituted a closure to all flounder harvest from Nov. 1 to Dec. 14, making the fishery catch-and-release only during this time. I release all flounder measuring 20 inches or more any time of year and recommend other anglers do the same. The greater number of big, breeding-size fish we put back, the better chance for quality flounder fishing in the future.

Due to the incredible taste of flounder, anglers generally consider them a prize for the table and don’t generally release them as they do snook or speckled trout. But flounder deserve the same respect. Keeping the smaller, legal-size fish to eat and releasing the big ones has worked for other species and can help ensure the future of the southern flounder.

The post How to Catch Flounder With Micro Jigs appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Mississippi is just one of the 10 states touched by North America’s largest river, but somehow, it’s the one that inherited its name. Louisiana coastal anglers are fine with that because most have a love-hate relationship with “The Big Muddy.” In high-river years, when the Mississippi most lives up to its nickname, it shoves cubic foot after cubic foot of highly turbid fresh water into the marshes, bays and bayous of south Louisiana, giving inshore waters the clarity of an advanced lesson on quantum physics.

Estuarine species flee the scene, setting up shop in areas where they can actually see their fins in front of their faces. For anglers, that means longer runs burning more fuel and complete abandonment of familiar honey holes. Solicit an opinion from a south Louisiana angler about the Mississippi during a high-river spring, and you’ll likely get a string of expletives longer than Steve Martin’s in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”

But as with all things in nature, there is a yang to the yin. Though the high water makes fishing tough in the short run, it infuses the ecosystem with more nutrients than a vitamin factory, spring-boarding it to glorious days of truly incomprehensible fishing productivity once the river retreats. Exactly when that happens depends entirely upon how much rain falls in the Midwest, but south Louisiana anglers usually start looking at the readings from New Orleans’ Carrollton gauge around the beginning of summer, and typically sometime in August, the river first retreats below 5 feet there. That’s the signal that the river has gotten so low and slow that it’s lost its battle against the Gulf, allowing clean, green water to infiltrate all the major passes and even the Mississippi itself south of Venice.

Speckled trout will eventually find their way to all the bait the river fed for months, but redfish, flounder and largemouth bass get first crack at the menhaden, glass minnows, killifish and crabs in August and September. It’s some of the best fishing found anywhere on the continent.

Charter captains who ferry inexperienced tourists use live or dead shrimp under corks to make harvest easiest, but veteran anglers who like a little more sport channel their inner Kevin VanDam and hit the passes like they’re out to win the Bassmaster Classic.

The roseau canes that line these waterways are hideouts for staggering numbers of bass, redfish, flounder and more, and when waters retreat, these fish get exposed. Venice regulars schedule their trips this time of year around falling tides, and hit major and minor passes that have steeper banks that allow game fish to wait for bait that gets sucked out of the canes.

In this scenario, a wide range of lures will work, but arguably the most productive and enjoyable technique is to flip soft-plastic worms, craws and creature baits to the edges of the canes. Bites are seldom ferocious, but the fights after hooksets sure are. It’s close-combat fishing, with anglers often getting splashed by angry redfish and bass erupting a rod’s length away.

Best gear includes heavy braided line, tungsten bullet weights of at least 3/8-ounce and 3/0 or 4/0 standard J hooks. Extra-wide-gap hooks tend to emerge from fish’s lips, snagging the tough roseau canes in the process. It’s not uncommon for anglers to watch helplessly as a violent bass, red or flounder earns its freedom due to a hook point that’s embedded in a cane.

Newcomers are often stunned to discover all three of these species cohabitate side by side by side, and when setting the hook, it’s impossible to know which type of fish will emerge through the surface. That always adds an exponent to the fun factor. There’s no telling exactly when the river will fall below 5 feet this year, but interested anglers can check the level and forecast depth. Whenever it is, fishing will be off the chain, and anglers will owe it all to the tough spring days when the water was dirty and the fish were far out.

The post Saltwater Flipping and Pitching appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

The razzle-dazzle of a slurping, clacking popping cork might seem off-putting at first, but its effectiveness and dominance as a fish catcher is indisputable. While particularly effective and popular in Gulf Coast states, the technique has followers in the Carolinas and beyond.

My baptism into popping corks occurred on my first-ever trip to the toe of the Boot State. Fishing the turbid open bays close to the Gulf, anglers in our boat caught oversize redfish hand over fist until we begged for mercy. What was the best rig for redfish that day? A flashy cork, about 4 feet of leader and a jig-and-bait combo. A topwater plug or “tight-lined” soft plastic did not attract the same interest from the bull redfish we were targeting.

Ever since, I’ve been hooked on corks in off-colored water, paired either with natural baits or lures. It’s my go to redfish rig, and sometimes the popping-cork rig is the only presentation a redfish or speckled seatrout will hit. The main draw of the popping cork is an attention-getting clacking or clicking sound created by beads hitting a foam cork along a metal through-wire. Second, when a cork is jerked by the rod tip, the lure or bait presentation jumps off the bottom like a fleeing bait. A weight attached to the bottom of the cork adds casting distance and stability; swivels at the top and bottom of the wire serve as line ties for the main line and leader. The sound mimics fleeing shrimp, crabs, baitfish or even other game fish attacking prey. Some models of corks also throw a disturbance splash.

When and Where to Use Popping Corks

Popping corks are prime to use when water conditions are choppy or turbid, with the best depths from 2 to 6 feet. “If you tie a leader much longer than 6 feet, then casting is difficult with 7- to 7½-foot rods,” says Capt. Ray Markham, of St. Petersburg, Florida. Use light leader material, such as 15- to 20-pound fluorocarbon, in clear water, but bump up to heavier leader in specific situations.

“You can use 20- to 50-pound leader, no problem, with a popping cork, especially in dark-colored water,” says Capt. Richard Stoughton, of Charleston, South Carolina. “I’ve even used 80-pound around structure like docks with success. I tie long leaders in spring and shorter leaders in fall, mostly because fish move into deeper waters in the spring.”

Anglers on the boat should cast ­different-colored corks so they can pick out their own float in a crowd. Markham prefers to throw less-noisy corks when fish are skittish.

“Where I fish, there isn’t much boat traffic, but the more traffic, the spookier the fish and the less noise I want from my cork,” he says. “Mostly we catch trout and redfish, but incidental catches include bluefish, snook, Spanish mackerel, snapper, grouper, cobia and others.”

Stoughton prefers to use corks because of the motion of lure imparted by the cork — if done correctly, when a cork is twitched or popped the lure will jump in a vertical motion. When an angler stops popping the cork, the artificial shrimp, jig or live bait will settle back to the bottom. He prefers to impart a double-pop action so the lure jumps twice and then falls.

“Often, I’ll add an egg sinker below the cork on the leader,” says Stoughton. “Pass the leader through the egg sinker twice so a loop wraps around the weight and holds it in place. Don’t let the egg sinker slide too close to the shrimp or jig because it will affect action negatively. Split shot can fall off the leader when a seatrout shakes its head near the boat.”

Some captains will tie their braided main line directly to the top swivel; others add a trace of leader material first. “I use braided lines on my rods, but tying directly to the top swivel of the cork can cause tangling issues,” says Markham. “Instead, tie a short piece of 30-pound fluorocarbon or some other stiff leader that stands away from the cork.”

Popular cork makers include Bomber, Cajun Thunder, Comal Tackle, D.O.A., H&H Lure Co., Red Alert, Four Horsemen and plenty of others. Soft lures to tie below the cork include artificial shrimp from D.O.A., Berkley Powerbait, LiveTarget, Berkley Gulp!, Savage Gear and Z-Man lures. Also, soft plastics pinned to a jig head are popular. But watch out: Sometimes trout or redfish will attack the cork itself. Try casting out a topwater in those situations for exciting surface strikes.

Using Popping Corks With Live Baits

Capt. Jeff Poe, of Lake Charles, Louisiana, ties on a specific type of cork for those customers who want to use live baits, such as shrimp, crabs or fish. “We use spinning tackle with football-shaped weighted corks that have beads on either end,” says Poe. “Their weight makes it easier for our clients to cast farther. Whoever casts farthest wins with the most bites, usually.” The average depth in Calcasieu Lake, where he fishes, is 6 feet, so a cork works anywhere in the lake.

“The deepest water where I’ve ever caught fish with a cork is about 35 feet,” says Poe. “That was around an oil platform in the Gulf. I’ll try a cork anytime I feel I’m around fish but we’re not getting the amount of bites I expect. Corks are a great way to catch fish in dirty water, as the noise attracts and the float suspends your bait in the strike zone.”

Poe strays away from corks in strong current because in those conditions fish hold tight to the bottom. He also won’t tie on a cork near large schools “because as soon as a fish eats your bait and pulls your cork under, other fish will attempt to eat your cork.”

Comparing Different Styles of Popping Corks

Anglers will notice a host of different-style corks available from a number of makers, with the most common styles shaped like an egg, a cigar or an ice-cream cone with the point bitten off. Each foam cork is different in how it’s built, so personal preference goes a long way in deciding how much you’re willing to pay, what style of cork you want, what type of beads you want, and through-wire ­material stiffness and durability. Here’s how some manufacturers describe their corks:

Bomber Paradise Popper

Bomber says: “The Bomber Paradise Popper’s wire is titanium. It springs back to shape. I have seen these corks with the paint and part of the cork gone, and they still produce fish. All of the other components are plastic or brass. The Popper is tested not to break at less than 70 pounds of pressure, and many don’t break until under more than 90 to 100 pounds.”

D.O.A. Popper Clacker

D.O.A. Lures says: “Between the cigar, oval and popper D.O.A. Clacker corks, some make less noise and have a different pitch in the sound they create. The popper style is louder and deeper in tone but also produces a big splash when worked aggressively. Due to the internal weight, the popper is durable and gets less wire bend than do other styles of D.O.A. corks.”

Red Alert Speckanater

Red Alert Lures says: “There are two unique features about my popping corks. One, the beads used are hematite, which creates a very distinct pitch like a shrimp slapping its tail. Steel inserts in the foam cork also contribute to the sound. Two, the through-wire is rated at 250 pounds but not rigid, with 100-pound swivels at the ends for a longer‑lasting cork.”

The post Fishing With Popping Corks appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

A couple of years ago, fishing partner Elliott Taylor and I drifted atop a conveyor belt of saltwater on the lower Connecticut River in Old Saybrook, Connecticut. As I cast a surface plug off the stern, we heard a whooshing noise like a bucket of water dumped into the river. I turned to see the lingering froth left by a big predator. Slammer bluefish and striped bass had invaded the river mouth, and we were poised for some wild battles that afternoon.

The lower or most-southerly portion of the Connecticut River is saltwater, and it separates the coastal towns of Old Saybrook on its western bank from Old Lyme on its eastern bank. The last seven miles of the river is a striper and bluefish haven, thanks to the abundance of bait in this large estuary.

North of the Bridge

Hamburg Cove lies 4 miles north of the Interstate 95 boat launch and bridge. This special cove is one of the first Northeast locales to hold feeding stripers each spring, and its schoolie fishery is world-class: a sure cure for cabin fever from mid-March to mid-April before action heats up farther downriver and in Long Island Sound. (Note: Fishing north of the I-95 bridge requires a freshwater/inland or all waters fishing license.)

After late April, the cove’s schoolies swim into the main river and downstream to the mouth and eventually into open water, where they mingle with adult bass. Located on the east side of the river, the cove is protected on three sides by hills and sheltered from raw spring winds. Hamburg Cove also appeals to boating anglers because it lacks prop-bending obstacles like rocks yet it’s shallow enough for fly or light spin tackle.

The stripers found here in early spring generally measure 14 to 20 inches. Numbers, not size, becomes the objective. Fan cast or troll small lures or tubes until you locate a school. Stop and drift with the fish to catch 50 to 75 fish on a given tide.

If you prefer to target bigger fish, large stripers do invade the north side of I-95. At one perennial hotspot—day marker 25 at the lower mouth of South Cove, which is on the west side of the river halfway between Hamburg Cove and the I-95 Bridge—bass in the 30- to 40-inch range set up to feed on herring, alewives, and menhaden starting in late April and running through June.

Motor 50 yards north of the marker on a running tide and drift south along the reef edge, fishing deep with large swimming plugs. During slow current periods, these fish sometimes come up and inhale surface plugs like the 5-inch Rapala Skitter Pop or the 7-inch Lil’ Doc. Beginning in late May, bluefish mix in and provide hard-hitting action as they follow menhaden schools in from the ocean.

South of the Bridge

Downriver and south of the I-95 Bridge, an excellent late-spring fishery starts at the northern confluence of the Back and Connecticut rivers, in an area called the Wood Lot. Here you can idle into a transition zone where the depth quickly changes from 4 to 10 feet. But do so quietly to prevent spooking the fish, especially on calm days.

Cast a medium-fast spinning outfit toward the shelf, and retrieve a soft plastic, like the Game On! Big Occhi, or a surface plug across the drop-off. Drift with the current and continue fan casting until you locate a pod of bass. The fish typically stalk the shallows, but you should explore the deep side too.

If you don’t find fish or when the bite wanes, motor south to Gibraltar Rocks—three large, clearly defined boulder fields. Anchor up, but heed your chart plotter and be cautious of subsurface rocks. Cast up or across current and retrieve just fast enough to keep a small swimming plug or metal lure from hanging bottom. Schoolie bass and hickory shad await prey in the slower and deeper water.

Farther seaward and just east of Buoy 10 lie Sodom Rocks, another perennial hotspot. Continue south from there to find another cluster of rocks and a small marsh island to cast to just east of Buoy 8. Griswold Piers, just south of Buoy 8, is a fishy area punctuated by three small rips. Finally, at the river mouth, cast to sandbars and the breakwaters, which provide good action on an ebb tide.

On a flood tide, work back upriver toward the Wood Lot. Begin by fishing the Great Island shore just north of Poverty Point, this time in the shallow 3-foot zone within casting distance of shore. From there, try spots like Great Island (south of the bridge) or Calves Island (north of the bridge).

If you’re new to fishing this area, be cautious of rock piles out of the main channel in the lower river, many of which are the remains from the days of haul seining. While these boulders attract fish, they can badly damage an outboard.

On the west side of the river lies Ragged Rock Creek and a rocky bar. These areas produce from late April into early summer. Some spots are shallow, but the area is lightly fished compared with others. Slightly downriver you’ll find a bridge and North Cove, which offers more structure than the Old Lyme side. This lower waterway near the main channel hosts monster bluefish in late spring and late summer as they maraud schools of adult menhaden. A large surface plug brings exciting topwater action during low light, when baitfish schools draw bluefish from Long Island Sound.

Whether fishing or just exploring the lower Connecticut River by boat, the beauty and diversity of this huge estuary is hard to match anywhere in the Northeast. Bluefish, striped bass, and baitfish are abundant, and you can usually fish the river when conditions on Long Island Sound are too windy.

The post Spring Striper and Bluefish Action Awaits on the Lower Connecticut River appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Admittedly, Capt. Brandon Storin first considered it an annoyance, but he soon realized that he had dialed in a cool Florida Keys fishery that goes largely unnoticed.

“During the time when we catch bridge tarpon in spring, sometimes we’d run into some bycatch of cubera snapper,” Storin said. “I think they’re chummed up because of all the people tarpon fishing; there’s a lot of scent in the water. It’s mostly just the scent of the baits. Some people chum for tarpon (with cut bait), but I don’t because it brings too many unwanted species like nurse sharks.”

Considered the most brutal of the snapper clan, the hard-fighting cubera is a straight-up string stretcher. As Storin notes, these aren’t the giant spawners that anglers catch at night over deep-water reefs with legal-size lobster as bait, but the 15- to 20-pounders common at Keys bridges will still give you all the fight you want.

How to Target Cubera Snapper in the Florida Keys

If you’re game to actually target these cuberas near the bridges, Storin offers a few tips.

When: April-May is prime time, but the small to midsize cuberas hang around the bridges throughout much of the year. Colder weather will slow the bite when big winds muddy the water; during these conditions don’t waste your time.

Storin said he’s caught cuberas on incoming and outgoing water, but the fish seem most aggressive at the change of the tide. The fish can feed much easier during slower water compared to when the tide is screaming — ideal conditions are when that heavy bridge current slacks up and starts moving again.

“They’re definitely more nocturnal, so the night action is great, but also, the first and last hour of the day can be good,” Storin said. “If you’re fishing for them during the day, I’d bet that you wouldn’t run into many of them during the full moon.”

Where: Storin does most of his tarpon guiding around Islamorada’s Channel 2 and Channel 5 bridges, and the Long Key area. Most of Florida Keys’ major bridges will attract cuberas.

How: Based on his tarpon fishing thefts, Storin can attest that cubera snapper like a big deboned mullet on a fish-finder rig or pinfish drifted near pilings. If he’s targeting cubera specifically, Storin would fish a smaller deboned mullet or a live pinfish on the bottom.

“I’d definitely fish the baits close to the pilings and close to the bottom,” Storin said. “You’ll want to make an upcurrent presentation so the scent will come down to where the cuberas are.”

Tackle: A 7-foot medium-heavy spinning rod with a 6500 series reel carrying 65-pound braid will handle most bridge cuberas, along with the abundant mutton snapper. Storin uses 60-pound fluorocarbon leader for tarpon, but he’ll drop to 40 for the wary snapper.

Cubers Snapper Fishing Tips

Land-Based: For anglers perched on Keys fishing platforms like the popular pedestrian-friendly Channel 2 and Channel 5 structures, a chum bag and a jumbo live shrimp can make big things happen.

What to Expect: Storin says bait size will determine how long an angler should wait to set the hook. A hefty meal might require a little chomping, but these fish are super aggressive, so they’ll snatch up a smaller offering and try to yank the rod out of your hand.

“If you feel them picking it up and turning the bait in their mouth, give them a few seconds,” Storin said, “but once they get a good bite, they’ll run hard. If you feel them batting at it, open the bail open to let them get it. I use the Owner Mutu circle hooks, so once they get the bait, I just let them come tight. Then you just have to (tighten) the drag and handle that run.”

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As founder of the popular community of trophy speckled-trout enthusiasts known as Speckled Truth, Chris Bush yawns at fish that cause most anglers to fight an irrepressible urge to wet their waders. The Holy Grail for trophy-trout diehards is a 30-inch fish, a true log of a lifetime, a fish that many anglers strive for, fully knowing they’ll likely never achieve. In his fishing career, Bush has landed six of them, and he’s got the pictures to prove it. So it took me less than two seconds to reply affirmatively when the San Antonio resident asked if I wanted to come to his home state and tag along with him in a quest to add another notch to his wading belt. 

A regular at the Texas coast, Bush said the absolute best place to do it would be Port Mansfield in the winter. So eight months in advance, we put some December dates on the calendar, and Bush lined up area guide Capt. Joe Prado to ferry us.

I’ve got four decades of speckled trout fishing experience, and two decades ago wrote a book on the topic, but nearly all of my pursuits have occurred in the marshes of south Louisiana, an area that produces numbers of fish that beggar belief but doesn’t offer a realistic shot at a 30-incher.

In fairness to my home state, I did catch my PB (personal best) there — an 8-pound, 8-ouncer — but that was during a five-year run of absolutely ideal conditions in the late 1990s and early 2000s. That fish, a remarkably rotund 28-incher, fell for a Norton Mud Minnow on Calcasieu Lake. I’ve caught some 24- and 25-inch fish since, but nothing approaching 30 inches.

Bush and I had agreed to fish two days in Port Mansfield, and when the dates for our trip arrived, we couldn’t believe our good fortune. A hard cold front blew through two days prior, leaving in its wake partly to mostly cloudy skies with absolutely no wind. Prado had scouted in preparation, and picked out an extensive grass flat with maybe a foot of water between the surface and the tips of the seagrass. We donned waders and fanned out across the flat.

It wouldn’t take long for the hopes and dreams I’d spent eight months conjuring in my head to be dashed. To my left and right, Bush and Prado were catching plenty fish, and a significant percentage of those were over 5 pounds with a handful over seven. I was catching as many fish as they were, but my trout were significantly smaller, and I seemed to be a magnet for redfish, nothing but a time-waster when you’re targeting big trout.

Only a foolish guest thinks he knows more than his hosts, so I studied Bush and Prado, whose cadences were markedly different but seemed to be equally productive. At various times, I tried to mimic each, but my results stayed consistent — lots of reds and small trout. My biggest of the day were a couple of 4-pounders — certainly not slouches, but not what I had driven 10 hours for, particularly when 28-plus-inchers were clearly in the area.

That night, I racked my brain trying to figure out what I was doing differently than the two much more experienced Texas wade fishermen who put on an absolute clinic. I vowed to keep trying different cadences on our second and final trip to the flat, but unfortunately, I got more of the same — except in addition to the reds and small trout, I caught two black drum and a sheepshead.

At a certain point, I wanted to snap my rod in two because Prado and I had wandered off shoulder to shoulder, casting to the same water, and within a 45-minute stretch, he subdued five fish over 7 pounds. I caught nothing anywhere close.

Then Prado gave me a lesson that would completely change my fortune. The hot bait of the trip was a MirrOlure Soft-Dine, a lure with which I’d had very little experience, and Prado offered that I was fishing it too slowly. Indeed, on maybe 10 percent of my casts, I’d come back fouled with grass, while Prado never did. He told me to twitch the lure almost as fast as possible and intersperse random short pauses — but so short that the lure would never fall more than four inches below the surface.

It felt quite unnatural to me, but I took the guide’s advice, and I’ll be forever grateful I did. Almost instantly, the size of the trout I was catching grew noticeably, and finally, with only 30 minutes remaining on our final day, I felt a hard thump, set the hook and knew instantly I hadn’t hooked a redfish.

Large trout sometimes fully breach the surface, but often, they’re so big, they can’t. The best they can do is emerge halfway, shaking their massive maws in what every angler hopes is a futile attempt to throw the lure. The ever gracious Bush, who had been pulling for me to catch a big one like I was a Make-A-Wish kid, saw the bite and the initial eruption, and rushed over, ready to stick a Boga in the fish’s mouth.

His first attempt was a swing and a miss, but the exhausted fish had little left in the tank. It circled back, and Bush clamped the prongs of the tool around the fish’s bottom jaw. It pulled the Boga to more than 7 pounds. Although it wasn’t a 30-incher, and wasn’t even my biggest trout ever, it was the biggest I’d caught in almost two decades, and made the trip more than worth it.

Bush said he regularly stresses to his followers the importance of fishing Soft-Dines almost impossibly fast when wading shallow flats, and the difference it makes was reiterated to him with my experience. That may be elementary to Texas wade-fishing veterans, but those traveling to the state in hopes of catching a big one should definitely keep it in mind.

The post After a Texas Trophy appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Louisiana’s robust marshes around the mighty Mississippi River might be the most-recognized backwaters in the country. The same can be said for Florida’s Everglades and its maze of mangrove-lined creeks and bays. But these two states don’t have a monopoly on backwater fisheries. Quite the contrary. Any of the states lining the Gulf of Mexico or Atlantic Ocean have backwaters worth exploring, so check out the areas below. Some of these spots may be completely new to you.

1) Thousands of Miles of Maine

Clouds of baitfish dart by my feet, glittering mesmerizingly like the facets of a diamond in the marigold yellow of false dawn. A violent splash out in the channel yanks my attention from the minnows.

Was that a striper? Perhaps a shad? A native brookie venturing into the brine? An elusive Atlantic salmon?

Maine is a cold-water paradise, with expansive mazes of pristine shallows that are home to a variety of fish. Thousands of miles of tidal shoreline—more even than California—give anglers virtually unlimited room to roam alongside the bald eagles, black bears and moose that call it home. The opportunity to find an unfished secret spot, devoid of other anglers, is easier than anywhere else on the East Coast. —Jerry Audet

2) Massachusetts Backwaters

While open-sand beaches and boulder fields get a lot of attention, Massachusetts’ tidal estuaries are an untapped labyrinth of shallow-water-fishing and sight-fishing opportunities. They are quiet and serene, but don’t let that fool you. Estuaries draw in fish of all sizes, including trophy-class striped bass. With thousands of miles to unlock in places such as Cape Cod and the North Shore, Massachusetts backwaters are ripe for exploration from shore, kayak, or skiff. —Jerry Audet

3) Long Island’s Salt-Marsh Complex

Though the nearby island of Manhattan is home to 8 million people, Long Island’s salt marsh is decidedly less populated. The soft, waterlogged soils that comprise this habitat slowed the pace of progress, leaving it mostly devoid of buildings, save for the occasional bay house. Instead of concrete and rebar, you’ll find invertebrate life holding the fertile meadows together. And instead of subways or yellow cabs, the inhabitants here move around with the aid of fins or feathers. —Joe Albanese

4) Crabs in the Delmarva Peninsula

Springtime along the mid-Atlantic, blue crabs emerge from the mud, as hungry redfish, speckled trout, flounder, tautog, striped bass and sheepshead line up at the seafood buffet. Blue claws are the heart of the Delmarva Peninsula, and provide meals for man and fish alike at every stage of their life cycle.

First, as they grow, crabs peel out of their old shell, offering a soft and defenseless snack. While mating, the immobilized crab couples make for two meals in one. Then, to release their eggs, female blue crabs swim along the surface, unable to hide from their enemies.

Anglers use whole blue crabs for big red drum and striped bass, a quartered crab for sheepshead and tog. Peeler crabs are a favorite for speckled trout and redfish. The best thing about fishing with blue crabs: When the trip is over, you can eat the leftover bait. In a large steamer, add equal parts vinegar and water. When the liquid boils, drop the live crabs into the basket and cover with Old Bay seasoning. The crabs are ready when their shells turn bright red. —Ric Burnley

5) An Ode to South Carolina’s Lowcountry

When the smell of puff mud at low tide hits my nose, I know I’m home. Palmettos and old oaks draped with Spanish moss give way to miles of wide-open marsh. Early fall brings a chill to the air and chases away the bugs. As the bait migrate out of the backwater, redfish become more aggressive.

I launch my kayak in water too shallow for any motorboat to reach and ride the last of the incoming current far into creeks and oyster flats. Then, as the tide changes and the marsh exhales, I wait for redfish to leave the flooded grass. Nothing gets my blood pumping like paddling around a marsh corner and seeing a half-dozen bronze backs slowly cutting a V-wake. A long cast with a light lure barely makes a splash.

Through the tannin-stained water, I see the school respond, attack, and my line comes tight. Redfish are called bulls for a reason: They fight headfirst and with their heart. Run, charge, cut and head shake—just when I think the fish is finished, a red will always find a second wind for another round. Then, when the gleaming bronze, gold and orange redfish is lying on my lap, I admire the iridescent blue-green tail with the trademark black dot before releasing the red to fight another day. —Ric Burnley

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