By Captain Jason Moore

They slip in on the rising summer tide, largely unseen and certainly unheralded. But for a (very) few knowing fly anglers, cownose rays bring the heat.

It took a few seasons to crack the code on these rays. Summers along this stretch of coast can feel still and slow. Flounder settle near the cuts, and bluefish might light up the surface occasionally, but the fly game stays subtle most days. Then the rays showed up. Clean water sweeps over sandbars with the tide. Big fish move with intent and are more than willing to eat a fly if it moves just right. It felt more like the tropics than southern New Jersey.

It made sense to go looking.

Wild Bill stood on the bow of the panga, relaxed, rod tip low, line stripped out and at the ready. The tide flooded the flat, rolling up the edges and across the sandbars. Ripples were starting to show, carrying everything the rays came for—small fish, sand crabs, and anything else caught in the tumbling current, or that moved too slowly without burrowing into the sand. From up top, dark shapes slid in and out of the flow, wings just breaking the surface as they fed, pivoting and leaving clouds of fine sand in their wake.

Cownose rays (Rhinoptera bonasus) are a seasonal fixture here, showing up each summer as the water warms along the shallow inlets and bays of the Atlantic seaboard. Averaging 20 pounds and sometimes pushing twice that, they cruise the flats, bays, and beachfront troughs looking for small fish and crustaceans, turning over sand and leaving behind the plumes that give them away.

The skiff is panga-style with a mostly flat bottom, a poling platform, and an honest eight-inch draft. It’s built off the same commercial lines still used across Latin America—clean, simple, efficient. It tracks quietly, floats skinny, and gets into water most boats can’t.

At dead low, the flat is barren. Dull brown sand stretches wide under harsh light, soft underfoot, and still. But as the tide begins to push, the flat changes. Water creeps in. At first, it’s a slow fill through the deeper cuts, then it builds. Fish start moving. Crabs scramble. Everything that feeds, crawls, or drifts starts shifting. And right behind them, the rays.

They don’t show up early. They hold just off the edge where the current stacks, sliding in only when there’s enough depth and enough commotion. They appear just as it all comes together—slow-moving shadows drifting with purpose, wings tipping slightly with each adjustment. They come in low, sometimes so close you’re sure they’re stalking you.

This time of year, sand crabs and small fish are everywhere. Female crabs flash bright orange egg sacs beneath their bellies, and the rays don’t pass them up. They track low, lift slightly, then drop to pin their food. That’s why the take isn’t always seen—it’s felt. A hard pull, sudden and heavy, like someone trying to rip the rod from your hands.

When the tide tops out, the flat exhales. The fish don’t leave, but they vanish under depth and glare. The current spreads, and the surface goes glassy. Contrast disappears. That narrow window is all you get—just enough water to bring the flat to life, but not so much that it hides everything.

And that window doesn’t last long.

The Right Stuff

It’s timing. Knowing when to push and when to post up. When the rays decide to eat, they’re looking for a fly already trying to get away—tumbling in the current, bouncing off the bottom, fighting for the edge.

They aren’t easy. Like any good saltwater prize, cownose rays force decisions. They’ll make you question the cast, second-guess the strip, and lose the angle. Rush it and you’re late. Wait too long and she’s gone. Everything has to line up—the cast, the fly, the retrieve. Miss any one and you’re done.

The flies are simple. Sparse baitfish in light tones with a little flash, tied on stout 2/0 hooks. Sand flea profiles with a sash of orange or green Alphlexo crabs. But it’s not just the fly—it has to move like it’s trying to stay alive. Move like it’s getting thrown out of a bar, a bit frantic but still trying to stay in control.

A 10-weight is standard, paired with a good reel and at least 200 yards of 30-pound backing. Rays run wide, dig deep, and don’t quit just because you want to.

Leaders are basic. No taper unless you’re feeling fancy or are getting ready for a trip to the Yucatan. Twenty or even thirty-pound fluorocarbon stays connected without drawing attention. Go heavier and they’ll see it. Go lighter and you’ll regret it on the first run or when the line scrapes across their back.

Flat on Flat

Bill was ready. His flies were tied for this place and these fish—no bulk, glued wraps, weighted right. They dropped fast, didn’t tumble, and held bottom when needed. Flies that looked like they didn’t want to be seen.

The first school came through, rays packed close, almost touching. A push of shadows fanning across the flat. Bill dropped his cast just ahead of the lead ray. Let it sink—two slow strips. The fish flared, hovered. Then came the take, and the line went tight and the rod bent, and it was on.

The flat erupted. Wings slapped the surface, and the ray surged. Not quick like a bonefish, but deliberate, like she meant to drag us across the inlet. The rod bent deep. The reel screamed. I don’t remember the line going; it was just the backing melting away as she ran.

Rays don’t bolt. They tear into long, heavy runs with wide arcs and no give. It’s like pulling burlap through current—nothing flashy, just constant resistance. The first run was long. The second longer. When it slowed, it didn’t get easier. Rays settle and pull harder, fanning their wings into the pressure like it’s personal.

You need to feel this in your legs. The rod stays low. Steady pressure.

Bill worked the fish slowly. I turned the skiff to hold the angle. The ray surfaced—still heavy, almost calm. We brought her close, popped the hook, and watched her slip back into the current. One last pulse of sand, and she was gone.

Line was stripped out again. Another fly tied on. Another school already sliding in. Same angle, same game.

Catching rays isn’t about numbers. It’s about reading the push. It’s about one fish at a time and, if everything lines up, then another.

Barracuda Breakdown by Chico Fernandez

Fly Fishing the Surf with Bob Popovics

Bison Of The Flats: The Bumphead Parrotfish

The post For a (very) few knowing fly anglers, cownose rays bring the heat. first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post For a (very) few knowing fly anglers, cownose rays bring the heat. appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Many coastal fly anglers consider surf fishing to be the ultimate challenge. Fortunately, most of us live within a coffee-mug drive from some of the best surf fly fishing opportunities in the world. Down South, the snook is king, while Up North the striped bass wears the crown. There’s a supporting cast of bluefish, mackerel, trout, and jacks.

Bob Popovics is one of the best at the game of surf fly fishing. He’s been at it for more than 50 years and lives only minutes from New Jersey’s Island Beach State Park, a favorite for striped bass hunters. His surf experience also includes time at surf fly fishing haunts like Martha’s Vineyard, Montauk, and the Outer Banks.

Just back from Vietnam in 1970, the young Marine was eager to get on with his life and get back to fishing with his dad and working at his family’s Shady Rest restaurant in Bayville, New Jersey.  A lunch get-together with high school buddies Jimmy Magee and Butch Colvin (whose dad owned the iconic Cap Colvin’s Tackle in Seaside Park), was the first step in a lifelong fly fishing journey that has made Bob one of the most influential fly tiers of the second generation of saltwater fly fishing pioneers.

The three buddies arranged a trip off Harvey Cedars to jig weakfish, but when bluefish crashed the party, Butch grabbed a fly rod and began casting. “I thought that was pretty cool, and wanted to learn more about fly fishing, so the next day Butch took me to Cap Colvin’s to buy my first fly rod, reel and line,” Popovics says. “I was hooked. It was like therapy, and the process of learning to cast and catch fish was soothing, and great fun. I fished with the fly rod as often as I could.”

Later that winter, Butch gave Bob a cardboard beer flat filled with a fly tying vise, bobbin, thread, and some feathers and bucktail, and said, “You’re going to learn how to tie flies.” Back then, there wasn’t much information about saltwater fly tying, but like the promise of a full moon at high tide, a new organization called the Salt Water Fly Rodders of America (SWFROA) brought a fresh level of excitement to coastal fly fishers with an exchange of information, techniques, tackle, and fly tying. Bob was an eager student.

Annual get-togethers were sponsored by SWFROA and its chapters at places like Tilghman Island, Maryland; Key West, Florida; Newport, Rhode Island; and Sag Harbor, New York. Bob attended one on North Carolina’s Outer Banks, where he met Lefty Kreh, who became a good friend and mentor. SWFROA had many well known fly anglers on its board of directors, but Fred Schrier of Toms River, New Jersey, was the dynamo, “the juice,” that drove the new organization.

“I owe a lot to Fred,” Popovic says, “because he was a great motivator, always encouraging me to try new things, and he helped introduce me to so many people like Mark Sosin, Poul Jorgensen, Bub Church, and many others who generously gave me advice and support. Fred’s really the guy who gave me the biggest boost.”

“Surf fly fishing is a very visual experience, and to be good at it you have to be an observer, be aware of your surroundings, the type of beach, the breeze, the currents, and beach structure. Watch everything that happens all around you. Before you make the first cast, walk up to the beach, wait a few moments and observe. Watch the wave sets, get the feel of the rhythm of things before you start fishing. Before I make the first cast I check out the water for signs of bait, cloudy and clear water edges, the formation of bars and points, the location of white water and calm water, and the types of birds in the area. You need patience to be an observer, but it makes you a better fly fisherman.”

Bob likes to keep things simple. He may have plenty of fly gear and equipment in his beach buggy, but keeps only the bare essentials in a shirt or jacket pocket when he’s standing at the water’s edge fishing. “I always have my stripping basket, and like to use a Velcro belt, which is so much easier to get on and off than a buckle-type belt. My pliers are on my wading belt. I pare down what I need to just a few flies and essentials. Instead of taking 20 of each type of pattern, such as crab flies, or bucktail Deceivers, or Jiggies, I take maybe three of each so I have enough on hand to replace a broken-off or fish-chewed fly. I like soft fleece wallets that fit into my shirt pockets to keep a supply of favorite flies close at hand.”

He also keeps a spool of 16-pound tippet handy, and another of 12-pound for very clear water. He usually doesn’t use a heavy mono bite tippet. If blues show up, he has a screw-top tube container in his pocket (like the kind that hold cigars), with 8-inch wire leaders tied with a haywire loop at one end to attach to the tippet. The open end is then haywired to the fly.

“Most of the time I know what to expect when I hit the beach, so if the mullet are running, I take mullet patterns and don’t bother loading myself down with a bunch of flies that probably are not appropriate,” Popovics says. “I do like to have a color selection on hand in case I need to change from a bright fly to dark one, and same goes for short and long patterns.”

Bob favors a 9- or 10-foot, single-hand rod, and says, “Although I’ve tried, I haven’t gotten into the two-hand casting style, and prefer to use single-hand rods most of the time. I like a rod that is not an ultra-fast design. In my consulting work with fly rod manufacturers and in teaching fly casting, I’ve come to like fly rods that have a tad more bend in the butt section as compared to stiff, ultra-fast taper fly rods. Some of my favorites include designs by St. Croix that give the surf fly caster better control of the fly presentation when mending the line or when lifting the line to make a quick cast to reposition the fly. This is an essential feature for any good surf fly rod.”

“When fly fishing the surf, it’s common to retrieve the fly all the way to the rod tip. To quickly and efficiently make the next cast, I like a short, blunt-head line that will load the rod with less line outside the tip. You’re looking to make as few false casts as possible, so a short compact head will load the rod quicker and more efficiently. Use the resistance of the water to help load the rod as you lift to make the backcast, shoot some line on the backcast, then shoot the works on the forward cast. Depending on wind you may need another false cast to reach out to the fish, but always strive for the fewest number of false casts. The goal is to lift for the backcast, shoot, and shoot again on the forward cast.”

“A floating line is my first choice when selecting a fly line. Most fly anglers can dependably cast 50 to 70 feet, and at that distance most beaches will be about 5 to 7 feet deep. A striped bass can easily see the fly at that depth and if you need to go deeper, a weighted fly like a Jiggy or a Clouser Minnow will get deep enough,” Popovics says.

A floater with a short intermediate head is his second choice. “You want to be able to pick up line and recast if necessary, and this is still possible with an intermediate sink tip fly line. You need to do this if the fish moves away from you after you’ve made a cast, or if the fish veers off at an angle from its original swimming direction.”

“A floating line only behaves badly and makes a poor presentation in the surf when you allow the line to be carried away by a breaking wave. You can overcome this by working the line in between the waves, letting it ride and fall with the waves as they roll to the beach. Watch the sets. After six or seven waves, there’s usually a calm area before the next set starts and you can make a nice presentation into this calm water.”

Bob recommends that every surf fly angler learn the skill of mending line. This quick, circular flip motion of the rod tip adjusts the line’s position in a current or wave to keep the fly tracking nicely. If the wave action makes it impossible to control the fly, he uses a roll cast, then lifts for a backcast, and shoots a forward cast to reposition the fly in calm water. “Rod handling becomes second nature, and after awhile you don’t even think about it. The line mending and lifting just become automatic responses to the motions and actions of the waves.”

We all dream of catching a fish so big we won’t have to fib about it, but typical surf-caught striped bass run from schoolies to teen-size and maybe into the 20-pound range. A 30-pounder is an astonishing catch. Even the biggest striped bass will not take too much line, so Bob prefers lightweight large-arbor reels that can hold about 150 yards of backing. “You don’t need a huge reel. The weight of a big reel gets tiring and feels like you have an anchor under the rod. More important is a large spool diameter that retrieves line quickly. Keep in mind that most fish I can play by simply bringing the line in by hand and dropping it into the stripping basket.

“Most reels today are saltwater worthy,” he says, “and it’s probably more important to consider which hand you use to crank the line in. Right or left, the dominant hand is your best choice. A right hander will reel faster, longer, and more smoothly with the right hand; the opposite is true for a southpaw.”

It’s natural to want to walk into the surf up to your knees, but Popovics prefers being higher on the sand because many times the bass will be right in the wash. When fly fishing a beach, the currents and structure are important. The basic current is from the incoming and receding waves, but there are also beach currents generated by wind that often run along the beach. These areas can be worked by letting the fly swing in the current, mending the line as needed to keep in touch with the fly and not let the waves pull line and cause an erratic retrieve and slack.

Bob suggests surgically casting along the beach structure just like a trout fishermen in a small stream. The bass aren’t everywhere; they hold and travel along definite structure such as a slough between the beach and a sand bar, a cut in a sand bar, a point of the beach with white water along its sides, the edges of clear and cloudy water, and also the calm water. “Work all of it,” he says. “Use wind and currents to your advantage when walking the beach. Keep the wind off your non-casting side when possible, or walk with the current a few steps in between casts.”

Bob’s good friend Lou Tabory told him, “There’s no substitute for time on the water,” and Bob echoes that with more good advice, “Even a fishless morning can still be a great day because of the experience earned and knowledge gained. Count the hours, not the fish. Be an observer, look for things, think about what’s going on around you, work the structure, and remember that time on the water builds casting and fishing skills.”

As the premier fall surf fly fishing builds, Bob uses specific fly patterns based on what bait is prevalent as the season matures from September through November. For the early fall, he’s usually throwing Siliclones and Bob’s Bangers to imitate mullet, and Jiggies and Surf Candies to imitate rain fish. When bigger baits are in the surf, his go-to patterns include bucktail Deceivers, The Beast, and Spread Fleyes. Later in the fall, when the sand eel invasion has hordes of the slender baits invading the beach, he’ll switch to longer but skinny Jiggy Fleyes.

One last tip, one of Bob’s favorite fall times to fly fish is the start of a fresh northeaster before the water gets all roiled up and murky, when it’s still clear. “The bass go on binge feed,” he says, “and if the water is real rough, I’ll use a 300 to 400-grain sink tip line to cut through the turbulence.”

Surf fly fishing is popular for many reasons, including its simplicity and nearness to home—and equipment doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg. It’s exhilarating when a full-blown bluefish blitz erupts, yet serene and calm as the sun ignites the dawn and striped bass begin to swirl at bait in the trough. Fly fishing the surf is a lifelong adventure that has captured fly fishing pioneers dating back to Rhode Island’s Harold Gibbs, New Jersey’s Cap Colvin, and Maryland’s Lefty Kreh—and it now inspires today’s new generation of fly fishers.

Read more great articles like this one and get expert tips from the legends of saltwater fly fishing in the pages of Tail Fly Fishing Magazine. If you love saltwater fly fishing and wish to improve your game, support conservation causes and become part of a small but incredible community, then subscribe to Tail Fly Fishing Magazine today.

You might also like:

Stripers in the Suds – John G. Sherman

Striper Redux – Jack Gagnon

Worm Hatch – Northeast – Striped Bass

California Corbina: Sight Fishing the Surf

More Articles by Pete Barrett:

Fiberglass Rods for Saltwater Fly Fishing

Who Caught the First Bonefish on a Fly?

Amazing Autumn Fly Fishing

The post Fly Fishing the Surf with Bob Popovics first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Fly Fishing the Surf with Bob Popovics appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

When it comes to flies, I’ve always had an innovative attitude that I believe is due to my occupational background. As an AutoCad draftsman for the better part of 20 years, I’ve been able to use my everyday computer skills at home on my hobbies. When I sleep, I guess you could say that I’m haunted by fish-shaped foam.

Materials

• Hook: Mustad 3407DT O’Shaughnessy (or equivalent), Size 2/0
• Thread: Danville 210 Denier Flat Waxed Nylon
• Head: 2mm Craft Foam Sheet (craft store or fly shop)
• Adhesive: Super Glue
• Loops: 20- to 30-pound monofilament or fluorocarbon, 12 inches
• Beads:  Glass Beads – 3/16” to 1/4” diameter (Typical for 2) (craft store)
• Body: Letera’s 4” Magnum Dubbing by American Tied Flies (or equivalent)
• Eyes: Prism, self-adhesive, 3/16” to 1/4” diameter
• Body Art: Paint Markers, Airbrush, etc.
• Finish Coat: Flex Seal Liquid (Clear) or UV Flex Epoxy

Step 1

Starting at the hook eye, wrap a base of thread toward the bend a little less than half way. Wrap thread back to the eye before beginning step 2.

Step 2

Fold a 12-inch length of mono or fluoro in half, leaving a loop at one end. With the loop end, starting behind the hook eye, use the thread to tie in the mono, keeping both 6-inch lengths side by side on the top of the shank and down the bend, matching the wraps from step 1.

Step 3

Starting with the bobbin hanging near the hook point, place one glass bead on either tag end of the mono. Keeping both tag ends as even as possible, roll the mono forward, creating bead loops. Make about six wraps and adjust the length of the mono loops before continuing to tie in the remainder of the mono.

Step 4

Cut the remaining tag ends of mono behind the hook eye and wrap in completely. When completed, the loops should still be loose enough to allow the beads some freedom of movement.

Step 5

Starting with the bobbin hanging just ahead of the hook bend, tie in the first layer of body hair (belly color). Leave approximately 3 inches of hair extending beyond the bend. Finish wrapping any remaining hair along the hook shank.

Step 6

Matching the start point and length of the first layer, tie in second layer of body hair (back color). This time, pull the forward portion of remaining hair backward to be used as filler. When pulling the hair back, be sure to add a few wraps ahead of the hair to lock it in. Whip finish and prepare the foam head using the provided pattern.

Step 7

Once you have the foam head cut out and pre-glued into a tubular shape, rotate the fly 180 degrees and take a moment to test fit the foam head and see how you would like it to sit. Once satisfied with where the head will be positioned, put the head aside and add a few dabs of Super Glue along the bottom of the hook shank. Using a bodkin or toothpick, spread the glue evenly along the bottom and sides of the shank.

Step 8

Once the glue is spread evenly along the thread, slide the foam head over the hook, being careful not to let the foam touch the glue until it’s in the correct position. Let the glue set to the foam for about 15 seconds.

Step 9

Flip the fly right-side up. If you have not already done so, use a bodkin and poke a hole in the foam lip where it will be pushed over the hook eye. The hole should be approximately 5/16 of an inch up from the end of the lip. Carefully stretch the foam down and over the eye.

Step 10

Add prism eyes and any other body art, if desired. I’ve found both paint markers and airbrush paints hold up well when using a finish coat.

Step 11

Put a finish coat on the entire surface of the foam head. I prefer Flex Seal clear liquid, but it requires 4 to 6 hours of drying time. Use UV Flex Epoxy for faster drying times.

To learn more about Carl Harris’ innovative fly patterns,

you can visit his Online Store, Instagram, or Facebook pages

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The post Soft Chew Wiggler 2.0 first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Soft Chew Wiggler 2.0 appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

I developed the Candy Corn Crawler primarily as a redfish pattern for Florida’s central coasts. Obviously its application doesn’t stop there. If tied smaller it can certainly entice some bonefish and even permit. Mixing up the colors on this fly can produce some very effective variants as well. I often tie it in Chartreuse/Olive as well as Purple/Yellow. This was the fly we fished the most during a recent trip to Louisiana last November.

Now that you have the down low on this pattern, here’s how to make them. Be sure to whip a few up and test them out in your local waters.

Candy Corn Crawler

Step 1: Stick an SC15 in the vise and lay down a solid thread base from the eye of the hook all the way past the hook bend.

Step 2: Use figure 8 wraps and underbelly wraps to secure the Double Pupil Eyes to the hook shank.

Step 3: Tie in a pinch of Orangutan Colored Pseudo Hair to the back end of the hook just past the bend.

Step 4: Tie in a pinch of Sand Colored Pseudo Hair directly on top of the first layer and secure it.

Step 5: Tie in 1.5” Sand Colored Foxy Brush right after the Pseudo Hair.

Step 6: Palmer the Foxy Brush around the hooks shank 3 times moving towards the eye of the hook and then tie it off.

Step 7: Cut the Foxy Brush and put a few thread wraps over the remaing tab.

Step 8: Select two Orange/Black Legs from the patch.

Step 9: Wrap the legs around the thread of the hook before tying them in.

Step 10: Tie the legs in right after the foxy brush.

Step 11: Trim the legs to desired length. I like them to be just a tad bit shorter than the length of the Pseudo Hair.

Step 12: Tie in Rust Colored 1.5” Foxy Brush.

Step 13: Palmer the Rust Colored Foxy Brush three times while moving towards the eye of the hook and then tie it off.

Step 14: Tie in Tan .5” Wooly Critter Brush right in front of the Foxy Brush.

Step 15: Palmer the Wooly Critter Brush forward and secure it up in font of the dumbell eyes.

Step 16: Trim off the Wooly Critter Brush and cover up the remaining tab.

Step 17: Select a short piece of 30 mono for the weed guard and crimp one end of it to help minimize bulk after it is tied in.

Step 18: Tie the weed guard in just in front of the dumbbell eyes.

Step 19: Whip finish the fly and cut the thread.

Step 20: Finish the fly by using Loon UV Thick to secure the thread wraps for a long lasting fly.

Jesse Males Bio: As a fly fisherman growing up on Florida’s Nature Coast, I had plenty of access to shallow flats to chase redfish, trout, snook, and tarpon as well as awesome river systems to fish for largemouth bass and bluegill. The more I fly fished, the more I saw the need to share my trips and info with other fly anglers. That led me to develop my main website www.backwaterflyfishing.com. This site serves as a blog as well as a hub for fly tying information and HD fly tying videos. I also run an online fly shop, www.backwaterflies.com, where fly anglers can purchase my favorite fly patterns, including the Candy Corn Crawler. 

Two and a half years ago I began an incredible journey by moving down to Costa Rica. Since then I have explored most of the country (aside from some very remote areas) and landed some amazing fish along the way. I currently run a guiding business here in Costa Rica with my good friends Micah Baly and Mark Evans. You can find info on all our guided trips at www.506outdoors.com. As for social media, be sure to catch up with me by following me on Facebook and Instagram at @backwaterflyfishing.

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The post Candy Corn Crawler first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Candy Corn Crawler appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Visual excitement aside, there are other good reasons why you should add surface flies—popping bugs, sliders, and hair-heads—to your bag of tricks. First, nothing gets a striper’s attention like a wounded baitfish, and there’s no better way to transmit distress signals than with a popping bug. While a streamer must pass through the fish’s field of vision to trigger a strike, poppers can summon fish from a distance. A striped bass’s lateral line is ever alert to low-frequency waves such as those generated by baitfish in trouble; it gives the fish a sensory “radar” that extends out to around 50 feet. Therefore, the surface commotion generated by a popper or hair-head attracts fish that you may have missed with a more subtle subsurface offering. In short, when fishing for striped bass, don’t hesitate to ring the dinner bell!

Topwater Fly Designs

Surface striper flies fall into two broad categories: popping bugs/sliders and hair-headed streamers. Popping bugs and sliders typically are made of one of three types of material: cork, balsa wood, or most commonly foam (such as the closed-cell foam from which lobster-pot buoys are made). Most striped-bass poppers range from about 1/2 inch to 5/8 inch in diameter, and from 1 inch to an 1 1/2 inches in length, minus the tail. Poppers much larger than this become difficult to cast.

The tails of most popping bugs are made of either bucktail, saddle hackles, or a combination of hackles and marabou. Saddle hackles allow for a longer tail, but the commotion produced by a popping bug creates the illusion of a prey item much larger than the popper’s actual size.

The bodies of sliders tend to be slimmer than those of popping bugs, and the face is often cut to a V. Sliders are meant to move across the surface quietly, creating a wake that the bass still feels. Sliders are particularly good in calm water and, unlike poppers, they can be deadly after dark—especially when bass are picking off small baitfish on the surface. Despite the slider’s subtlety, bass will hit them just as hard as they’ll hit a popping bug. Under the right circumstances, fishing a slider can be like pulling your fly through a minefield.

When fishing shallow over structure like rocks, seaweed, or grass, there’s a chance you could hang up on something other than a fish, and you’ll do well to use a fly that has some buoyancy. Streamers with heads made of spun or flared deer body hair work well in such situations. The late Bill Catherwood’s Giant Killer series of flies are the prototypical hair-heads, dressed in a colorful melange of saddle hackle, marabou, and clipped deer body hair that striped bass find irresistible. A full-size Giant Killer runs seven to nine inches long, and the construction technique doesn’t lend itself well to a fly half that size. So if you’re looking to throw the sardine rather than the full kipper, you’ll do well to go with a more basic pattern. One of my favorite hair-heads is Lou Tabory’s Snake Fly. It sports a wing of of ostrich herl flanked with marabou that has a lot of inherent action in the water. It’s a deadly-effective pattern that’s relatively easy to tie and lends itself to a size-2 to 1/0 hook.

The Outfit

For striped bass, consider the size of the flies you’ll be casting before you consider the size of the fish you might encounter. Although I feel an 8-weight outfit is adequate to handle any striper I’m likely to hook, I often fish a 10-weight rod, simply because it makes casting the largest poppers and hair-heads much easier.

I’ve read about anglers fishing popping bugs with intermediate lines, but I feel a full floating line gives a bug its best action. If you find casting popping bugs a challenge with a standard weight-forward taper (that is, a head in the vicinity of 40 feet), one of the shorter, more compact tapers being produced by such manufacturers as Airflo or Royal Wulff might help you better turn it over.

Striped bass aren’t particularly leader shy, so it’s unnecessary to use a long tapered leader with a popping bug. Six feet of level 15- or 20-pound test monofilament is ideal. Should you wish to build a tapered leader, keep it simple. A three-piece leader no longer than nine feet that tapers to 15- or 20-pound test is sufficient. If there’s a chance you might hook into a bluefish, consider adding eight or so inches of 60-pound mono or wire to the tippet as a bite guard.

Where and When

Popping bugs can be effective wherever bass are found—in tidal rivers, off beaches, in bays, near jetties—but they’re not for all occasions, and I limit their use to specific situations. During the day, I generally won’t use a popper in water less than six feet deep. Shallow-water stripers tend to be spooky, so your chances of catching these fish are better with a streamer. Exceptions to this occur in the spring and fall, when you’re likely to encounter schools of bass smashing bait tight to the shore. During this wild surface feeding a popper can be deadly, as its prominent silhouette and the commotion it causes enable fish to key in on it immediately.

Poppers are also good for attracting fish from deep water. Over holes and drop-offs, where a streamer might go unnoticed, a noisy bug is sometimes just the thing to make the fish come up and take a look.

Popping bugs are also good searching patterns. If you draw a strike with a popper but your next dozen cast casts go unnoticed, switch to a streamer. Conversely, I’ll tie on a popper as a change-of-pace fly when streamers aren’t producing.

The most productive times to fish popping bugs, in my experience, are in the early morning and the late afternoon until nightfall. Although stripers will feed readily on the surface after the sun has set, for reasons I don’t understand, poppers just don’t seem to produce after dark. For proper night fishing I’ll tie on a slider.

Don’t hesitate to drop a popping bug into any likely bass-holding area—the mouth of an inlet or tidal pool (particularly on a falling tide), or in the middle of a rip. In rivers, I’ve had my best success by casting directly across the current. In particular, work the edges and eddies.

If the setting doesn’t lend itself to a popping bug but you’d still like to play the topwater game, don’t hesitate to tie on a hair-head. One of my most memorable hookups came a number of years ago when I was fishing with my old friend, Captain Dave Tracy, who used to guide around Boston and Plymouth. It was a July 4th weekend. We had had some good fishing in the morning, and it was now coming on noon. We had bright sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was approaching 90 degrees. Dave had us drifting along a rocky shore in Plymouth that used to produce well on a coming tide. We were within yards of a crowded sunbathing beach, with fairly heavy boat traffic behind us.

Dave was used to having to produce for clients, so he fished a Clouser Half-and-Half on a sinking line a large percentage of the time. He wanted me to fish one now. I could tell I was annoying him. I was standing on the bow, throwing a full-size Catherwood Herring (one I had dressed—not an original) 90 feet toward shore, then skating it back across the surface in foot-long strips over a field of submerged boulders. (I may have been trying to impress a girl who was with us—I can’t quite remember.)

“You really have confidence in that big fly…?” Dave asked.

I was about to tell him that I had more confidence in the fly than in the location, when a bass appeared from the bottom—if it wasn’t 40 inches, it was close—and slammed the Herring. I was tight to the fish, but instead of running to deeper water it headed toward shore, into the rocks. Seven seconds later, it was all over.

I think Dave and I both learned something that day.

Cast, Retrieve, and Hookset

Some fly anglers believe you must form fairly open loops to cast popping bugs. This applies more to casting weighted flies, which take on their own momentum. (Bringing a weighted fly through a quick change of direction, as you do when you form tight loops, jars the cast.) Popping bugs are more wind-resistant than they are heavy, so forming a tight loop will carry the bug farther, more efficiently, than will an open loop.

When I first began pursuing striped bass with a fly rod, my only previous experience with popping bugs had been fishing them for largemouth bass. In fresh water, a popper can suggest anything from a large insect to a small bird or rodent. In the ocean, however, a popper imitates baitfish, period. The pop-and-wait retrieve so effective in fresh water is useless in the salt. To get a striped bass to smash a popping bug, you’ve got to keep the popper moving.

Start slowly at first, using short strips to move the bug three or four inches at a time, kicking up water every now and then. If that doesn’t draw any strikes, intersperse the retrieve with a few longer strips to suggest the erratic behavior of baitfish in trouble. Convey panic by stripping quickly, skittering the bug across the surface. At times a choppy two-handed retrieve is effective. No matter which retrieve you use, the important thing is to keep the bug moving.

Whether hitting out of curiosity, or attempting to stun prey with a slap of the tail, a striper doesn’t always take a surface fly into its mouth immediately. Raising the rod on such hits will not only result in a miss; it will pull the fly out of harm’s way. Instead of trying to set with the rod tip, keep the rod tip close to the water and pointed at your bug during the retrieve. Pay attention—the interest a striper shows in a popper is often subtle. If you see a swirl behind your bug, or if the bug’s wake seems unusually large—get ready. Chances are a fish is inspecting your fly.

If you rouse a fish but draw no strike, cast back and work the same area again; a striper that’s shown interest seldom passes up a second chance. If the fish strikes, keep your rod down and continue to strip line. That way, if the fish doesn’t take, the bug will still be in position for the fish to take another swipe. I’ve seen bass slap at a bug as many as four times before they finally took it. Only when you feel the weight of the fish should you strike. One sharp strip is often enough to set the hook.

A Floating Sand Eel slider has produced well for me when bass have been slashing at naturals on the surface. I’ve also done well with it when there was no surface activity, usually in calm waters in the evening or at night. With sliders, and particularly after dark, I’ve found a continuous retrieve is most productive. Retrieve the fly hand-over-hand and brace yourself for an explosion—it takes nerve to fish a slider well.

Retrieve hair-heads with single strips of six to 12 inches, or use a continuous retrieve. In heavy current or rips I like to let them swing as you would swing a streamer on a trout river, adding an occasional strip for interest. Although hair-headed flies do absorb water and may eventually sink, they’ll ride close enough to the surface that they’ll remain snag-free, and you’ll still see every take. (To watch a short instructional video on topwater fishing for striped bass, visit my website, the address to which is listed in the byline.)

If catching striped bass on the surface turns out to be your cup of tea, you might consider taking the flies, gear, and techniques to other fisheries. Jack Crevalle love a popping bug, and Puerto Rican tarpon will absolutely crush a Catherwood Giant Killer. Lou Tabory’s Snake Fly is my favorite fly for false albacore, particularly around Harkers Island. Watching a 20-pound tuna launch itself out of the water to clobber your fly may just be enough to get you to put your sinking lines away for good.

Bio: George Roberts produced the first video fly casting program devoted exclusively to salt water: Saltwater Fly Casting: 10 Steps to Distance and Power. He’s also the author of Master the Cast: Fly Casting in Seven Lessons (McGraw-Hill, 2002). For more information on fly casting and fly angling you can visit George’s website: masterthecast.com

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The post Bass on Top first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Bass on Top appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

I first came into contact with triggerfish in the Seychelles in the early 2000s. At that time, most saltwater operations concentrated on bonefish, but a number of enterprising guides were beginning to target triggers on the fly, and they realized the value that triggers represented as a gamefish. Having spent much of my saltwater career fishing in the Caribbean at that point, my focus had been primarily bonefish and permit. I distinctly remember wading across a flat with my guide when suddenly that first orange spade started waving at me. I was about to move on, still scanning for bonefish, when the guide put a hand out to stop me.

“Trigger!” he pointed. At first was I confused, but then I realized he was indicating the waving tail.

In my naivety, I asked what it was and he reaffirmed: a titan triggerfish. I actually had no idea what one looked like, or even if they took flies. Little did I know another species obsession was about to be born. The guide switched out my leader to some 20-pound test and tied a small crab fly on the end. The fish was slowly feeding in and around a small white hole on the edge of a flat, happily tailing as it went. I found the movement of the tail rather mesmerizing; it seemed to flop around with not much purpose as the trigger rolled in the gentle current of the incoming tide. By direction I dropped the crab into the white hole and let it sink. Once it had touched the bottom, I gave it one short strip and stopped. The puff of sand was enough to attract the attention of the titan, and it came scurrying over to investigate. I gave a slow pull and felt the nip nip as it tried to pin the fly to the sand. On the next strip, about halfway through, everything went tight and I slowly lifted the rod while simultaneously giving the hook a short strip set. The fish charged off and I remember marveling at the power in such a small fish.

Triggerfish are, in my opinion, one of the most underrated fish to target on fly. If giant trevally are the bulldogs of the flats, then triggers have to be the Jack Russell: small, pugnacious, ideas far above their station, and even GTs will steer clear of them. Triggers have no qualms about attacking much larger fish, and any diver will tell you they are a fish to be respected, especially when they’re protecting their territory or their nests. This particular trigger was heading for the drop-off rapidly, and I knew if he hit the razor-sharp coral there the game would be over. I leaned on him sideways, applying pressure, and finally managed to put a stop to the powerful run and bring him under control. Shortly afterwards I was cradling my first trigger, and what a weird-looking fish it was!

Although fishing for triggerfish follows a pattern, each interaction with them is unique. Never was there a fish with such independent character. Fly fishing for them is a technical challenge not unlike permit, but they are far more attainable due to their more aggressive nature. If they notice you on the flats they are often unafraid and have been known to come and check you out if you are encroaching on their territory. To catch one you have to find the right water and tidal height to locate them, select the right fly, and present it correctly. Then actually hooking the trigger presents its own challenge with that mouthful of teeth. Lastly, if you hook one, they have a nasty habit of scurrying off into a coral hole as fast as they can and either cutting you off or refusing to come out. For the uninitiated, this can happen before you even realize you have hooked it. Some days they absolutely hammer flies, and then other days nothing you try works. It’s this challenge and frustration that, like permit, make them such a fascinating fly rod species.

There are essentially four species of triggerfish from the family Balistidae that we target on fly, and although there are many more, most inhabit deep water. On the flats we find the titan (also known as moustache or giant triggerfish), the yellow margin (also known as the peach face triggerfish), the Picasso, and the gray. The Picasso is very small, a palm-sized one being a trophy. Generally in the Pacific and Indian Oceans we are targeting the titan and yellow margin and in the Caribbean the not-so-colorful  gray triggerfish. The  gray triggerfish is really only just beginning to be targeted.

Aside from their bright and colorful markings, triggerfish are defined by their almost human-looking teeth secured to incredibly powerful mandibles that make up a large proportion of their body. The triggerfish uses these hydraulics to quite literally bite coral, revealing prey underneath. You therefore do not want to get your fingers or peripherals anywhere near these snapping jaws for fear of losing digits. Almost as bizarre as its toothy maw is the ability of its eyes to rotate with a high degree of freedom; similar to a chameleon, it can look in different directions simultaneously.

Next is the trademark trigger in the dorsal fin that the fish can lock in place. This mechanism can make prying them out of coral holes particularly difficult. Although the colorings of each species are very different, on the flats it is their tails that make them so distinctive as they hunt. The titan has a large orange tail with a black band across it and a flat spade end. The yellow margin has a crescent-shaped tail outlined with yellow. The tail of the gray triggerfish is gray, although sometimes it looks like a small black flag. The Picasso is too small to tail and is normally found in very skinny coral areas.

To find tailing triggers you need to be in the right depth of water. In most reef systems they feed actively in that short window as the tide starts to push, allowing them access to the rich feeding grounds along the edges of the flats. They are particularly fond, it seems, of areas that have white holes and broken coral around which they can hunt, but also bolt into if they are alarmed. They also like the reef edge itself. The opportunity to stalk tailing fish therefore can be short, as they are harder to find once the water reaches a certain depth. On the whole they won’t make their way farther up onto the flats like bonefish and permit, instead preferring to remain near the coral edges. This is not always the case, however, and sometimes they will appear in odd places, or you will find them chasing each other when one encroaches on another’s territory.

Once you have spotted your tailing trigger what is the method of attack? To target triggerfish a 9-weight setup is the best, although in some instances you might get away with an 8-weight. The 9-weight is the perfect blend of lightness of presentation combined with the backbone to be able to apply pressure if the fish heads for the reef edge or a large coral head and you don’t fancy swimming to pry him free. Fly choices, as always, vary depending on the bottom you are fishing on, but normally my go-to flies are shrimp patterns such as Itchy Triggers, EP Spawning Shrimps, and small crabs such as Gumby Crabs in deeper water. Flies need to be fairly light to give a gentle presentation, and a good hook is vital. The Itchy Trigger is tied on a thicker wire hook and survives well. Weed guards are essential due to the nature of where you are fishing, and they avoid much frustration. Your ideal leader will be a tapered leader of 12 feet in length, 16- to 20-pound test. Nine feet is a bit short, and 15 feet can be tricky to manage with a shrimp fly, especially at close range.

You must approach stealthily, as triggerfish are alerted to your presence by crunching coral and water pushing from your legs. Tread as lightly as possible. There’s a fine line between being close enough for a comfortable and accurate shot, but not so close that you’ll spook it. Like all flats fishing, this really depends on your abilities. As with permit, your first cast needs to be your best, so gauge the distance by casting in another direction before you cast at the triggerfish. Some days they seem very skittish, others they’re totally emboldened.

Once you are in position, wait for the tail to come up before you make your cast. Not only will this give you the fish’s exact position, but also with its face buried in the flat the fish is less likely to become aware of your presence. You need to deliver the fly as close to its head as you dare and ahead of the direction it is facing. I know this sounds obvious, but when they are tailing they often roll around in the current and it can be very frustrating as they change direction just as you drop the fly. If the fish does not see the fly drop, then wait until the fly has sunk and the tail goes down before giving a long slow strip. This is normally enough for him to see the escaping crustacean and come rushing over to hit it. As soon as it comes over and tails on the fly, the fish is trying to eat it; so you need to give a short, sharp strip strike. The issue arises in trying to find a hook hold in that toothy mouth, so if you don’t go tight the fly will pop out. The big difference with a trigger and a bonefish or permit is that a triggerfish will continue to try and eat the fly, whereas other species will abort quite quickly. This prolonged game of cat and mouse can go on four or five times, sometimes even to the rod tip, which is why it is so exciting.

Continue with the slow draw, and as soon as you feel tension again give a short, sharp strip to try to set the hook. You may find that if you are not hooking up the fish may have destroyed the hook on the first attack, as they can completely mangle flies and even bite hooks in half. It is vital you don’t trout strike, or this will pull the fly away from the fish and leave it bewildered and suspicious. Triggerfish do have an amazing ability to backpedal in the water, so even when you think you have hooked it solidly you might end up with the fly spat back at you as they use the hook as a toothpick. I have had fish that have done this three times before I finally achieved a solid hookup.

If you have not hooked one before, you will be surprised at how powerful triggerfish are and how dirty they fight. They can swim on their sides in shallow water, and their first instinct is to head for deeper water and coral. This can be a depression on the flat or the reef edge. Either way, it’s not going to end well if you let them! As always in coral areas, keep the rod high during the battle, but apply as much side strain as possible to prevent it stuffing you in a hole. If this does happen it might not mean the end, as I have fished with a number of dedicated guides who pull out their goggles and go in after them. Even if they have locked the trigger, by touching the second spine on the dorsal it’s possible to drop the mechanism and pull them out by the tail. Be warned: He is going to come out really angry and will bite anything presented.

So where should you go to hunt for triggerfish? The prime spots are Christmas Island and the Seychelles. Some of the triggers on Christmas Island are the size of footballs, and I have been smoked good and proper on its expansive flats. You will find them on all the atolls of the Indian Ocean, and most guides in that area are well-versed in fishing for them. Some of the very best triggerfishing in the world is on the Nubian Flats of Sudan. Here, with a nearly nonexistent tidal fluctuation, you will find large triggers (some massive) tailing across the flats. Here they are the prime target, where ten shots in a session is not uncommon. You will also find  gray triggers on nearly all the reefs of the Caribbean, which have gone largely overlooked, except by a dedicated few, in favor of bonefish and permit. There are also some colossal specimens on the oceanside flats of Los Roques in Venezuela, and there are really good numbers in the southern Bahamas, such as around Acklins and Crooked Island. Here they can be targeted on white sand, which makes it particularly exciting.

So the next time you are wading across a flat in search of bones, permit, or GTs, if you see a waving trigger tail, I would highly recommend you go and have a crack. The visual element and prolonged interaction is highly addictive, and this is yet another species that can get under your skin. I have known many fishermen totally obsessed with them…. I am one of them.

Bio: Peter McLeod began guiding fly anglers for Atlantic salmon in Norway at the age of 16. He is the founder of Aardvark McLeod, international fly fishing specialists. Peter is the author of the acclaimed GT: A Fly-Fisher’s Guide to Giant Trevally (Merlin Unwin Books, 2016). For more information on fly fishing for triggerfish, you can contact Peter through www.aardvarkmcleod.com.

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The post Pulling The Trigger first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Pulling The Trigger appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Anyone who’s pursued bonefish in the Florida Keys long enough has great stories to tell of these extraordinary fish, famous for their size and for the extreme challenge they present. All of these anecdotes are amazing, and as exaggerated as some may seem–I was skeptical when I first heard them, anyway–after nearly 20 years of fishing there I’ve come to believe just about anything I hear of these fabled creatures. As the late Billy Pate noted, “The bonefish here are big, and they all have names.”

The Keys do have a healthy bonefish population; however, there are fewer fish here than in other destinations, such as the Bahamas or the Yucatán. Veteran Keys anglers are far more preoccupied with size than they are with numbers. These seasoned bonefish anglers do not seek the schools of fish commonly found in other destinations; instead, they carefully stalk large and difficult singles and doubles (fish commonly in double-digit territory), calibrating their expectations to perhaps just six or eight encounters per day. Managing a few fish over a week’s wading the hard oceanside flats is an admirable accomplishment.

Nearly every bonefish I’ve taken in these hallowed waters has been while fishing on foot. Pursuing them from a poled skiff, however, is the best and most productive approach, especially when accompanied by a native guide who knows this fascinating archipelago. But despite the challenges, I savor wading for them.

Big Keys fish are sometimes found tailing in thin water, particularly early or late in the day when wind, tide, and temperature conducive to that behavior prevail, but most of my success by far has come while working deeper grass flats. As with permit fishing, the combination of added depth and darker bottom demand stronger light in order to see fish at a reasonable distance for presentation. I’ve spent lots of time stalking these fish in water from above the knee to perhaps thigh-high, but every so often I stumble upon a big one in very shallow water commonly associated with smaller 2- to 4-pound fish. These fish are ultra-challenging: They demand your A-game.

I typically wade out to a strategic position ahead of fishable light. As visibility increases with the rising sun, I intermittently wade down-sun very slowly, frequently remaining motionless (posting-up) for long periods to allow encroaching fish to swim silently into view. The approach is similar to what whitetail deer hunters refer to as “still hunting.” A typical Keys’ day winds down around 1:00 p.m. as shoreline waters approach 90 degrees and become too warm for bonefish activity. To save valuable time, I reposition by leaving the water, which enables brisk, stealthy moves to alternate sites on the flat, or a rerun of a juicy stretch without alarming any fish in the area. A second round of activity may unfold with a rising late-day tide and the sun off the water as sunset approaches.

Toward the end of the morning’s fishing on a hot day on Ohio Key, I egressed the water to reposition for one last run down the flat. Hustling to get back to deep water with what little time was left, I wasn’t paying much attention to the pockmarked coral bottom that bordered the flat along the water’s edge when I was stopped dead in my tracks by a golf-ball-sized burst of marl that caught the corner of my eye.

The ensuing adrenaline wave that flushed through me sharpened every sense–I looked hard, but saw nothing more….

A minute later a second puff appeared–about 10 feet uptide of the first– but still I could not decipher a bonefish. The white coral was dusted with bright marl that filled the coarsely pockmarked bottom like confectioner’s sugar, creating a numbing reflection off the bottom in the blazing midday sun. Not so much as the tip of a tail scratched the surface. I hunched low and cautiously moved up the shoreline to stay abreast of this phantom fish. Finally, about 30 feet uptide of the marl that initially captured my attention, a vapid ghost materialized as it worked its way like molasses over a patch of sparse brown grass. It was a very long bonefish.

Crouched low at the water’s edge, I quickly changed to a tiny, pale, unweighted fly to make the most of this opportunity and not spook this fish. I was fishing a 12-foot straight shot of 10-pound-test fluorocarbon and an 8-weight floating line.

Catlike, I continued up the shoreline, keeping my profile below the mixed-up vegetation immediately behind me, and I gingerly reentered the water well ahead of the big bone. With my focus riveted on this barely visible fish, I dropped to my knees about 20 feet off the beach and maneuvered from that position over jagged coral to get my shot–it was nasty.

Head-on distances can be difficult to judge from such a low position. Instead, I waited for a close crossing shot that allowed me a better feel for where my fly was positioned in the intense shimmer and gave me my best view of the fish’s response to my presentation. When the fish closed to within three rod lengths, I rolled out with a choked-up hold of the rod ahead of the grip, flicked a quick backcast and with a wide-open delivery I gently lobbed the tiny crab silently into the water about 10 feet in front of the fish and a foot inside its path.

The ensuing moments demand firm mental effort to remain calm and responsive … regardless how many big bonefish you’ve taken. My heart pounded as this fish approached. When it was a foot from where I sensed my fly had settled on the coral, I inched the crab with a single delicate nudge. With no change in speed, the bonefish veered ever so slightly in my direction and paused … but not so much as a tap or twitch of that long gray body.

This is a dicey moment with sophisticated bonefish and it was now my move. Rather than risking a brisk strip strike that would surely send this fish to Cuba if it hadn’t eaten, I opted for a slow, careful draw … and we were tight.

Hooking up with powerful fish at such short range often ends with a broken tippet the instant it begins, as fly tackle has little inherent stretch. A bonefish’s explosive response ignites far too quickly for human reflex; anglers must anticipate and maintain presence of mind to ensure quick, soft hands prevail that allow the fish to make it to the reel. I was prepared for a Category 5 response from this fish.

The bonefish’s reaction was immediately strange–a few headshakes followed by a short, tempered run that got it onto the reel … then a few more minor-league shakes. A second modest run drew just 40 feet of fly line from a light drag (I fish bones loose at the start and gradually tighten down as the fish burns out). At the end of that run, it shook its head some more and simply held its ground, much like a spring-run striper. Then–much to my surprise–it suddenly turned and swam right to me, as if surrendering without a battle. The bonefish casually circled in front of me before submitting to my legs on its side, mouth agape. Without removing the fish from the water, I cradled him upside down, wiggled the fly loose and set this strange fish on its way.

He lunged 10 feet and then resumed casually feeding. I was bewildered.

This was a very old bonefish–its shrunken lower tail lobe, worn ventral fins, and reddened belly made that clear. But even old bonefish are capable of fireworks when hooked. Its behavior was baffling–almost as though this wizened fish knew the routine, perhaps having been hooked, landed, and released many times during its tenure on that oceanside flat. Though this hefty bone never showed me my backing, it’s one of the most intriguing fish I’ve ever encountered … a fascinating interlude with a very old specimen of an ancient species.

Bio: Rhode Island writer and photographer Alan Caolo is the author of two books on saltwater fly fishing and has published in many of the major magazines, including Fly Fisherman and American Angler. We’re honored to welcome him to the pages of TFFM. You can visit Alan’s website at alancaolo.com.

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The post Acquiescence first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Acquiescence appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Loon Outdoors UV Infiniti Light

This UV light is powerful enough to cure fly after fly in seconds, and when it runs out of power there’s no need to fumble around looking for batteries because you can recharge it using any standard USB cable. Before long tying sessions you can check the light’s power status using the power level indicator that’s integrated into the on/off switch. Throw in Loon’s unconditional guarantee and you have the last UV light you will ever buy. (loonoutdoors.com)

$60.00

Regal Medallion Vise

The Regal Medallion is a perfect example of the old adage, “Buy once, cry once.” Just open the jaws, insert the hook, and start tying. There’s nothing to adjust. When using the Regal Medallion you don’t think about it, which is exactly how a vise should be. You can tie 8/0 streamers for arapaima down to size-22 midges for trout. The jaws are solid, and the heavy base keeps the vise firmly planted on your tying desk. The Medallion series comes with a choice of six different heads, so you can pick the one best suited to your tying style. (regalvise.com)

$275

Petitjean Magic Heads

The work of Swiss fly fishing innovator Marc Petitjean is nothing short of genius, from his cutting-edge vises to his tying tools and accessories. Magic Heads are soft, clear plastic cones that you tie just behind the eye of the hook. Pushed back, they create a soft bullet head that will push water. Flipped forward, they act as a swimming lip, zigzagging your fly through the water like a terrified baitfish. The largest size will accommodate flies sizes 1/0 to 4/0. (petitjean.com)

$6.95

Renzetti Ruby Tipped Bobbins

Next to a good vise, a good fly tying bobbin is among your most important tools. And there’s nothing more frustrating than to have your thread repeatedly cut by a burr in the tube. Renzetti’s ruby tipped bobbins feature an industrial ruby inserted into the tube that will keep the thread moving smoothly and ensure that your thread never gets cut. Available in two saltwater sizes. These bobbins will last 25 years of continuous use. (renzetti.com)

$22.95

Norvise Automatic Bobbin Kit

If you’ve attended a fly fishing show within the last 25 years, you’ve likely watched Norm Norlander spin out Woolly Buggers at breakneck speed on his rotary Nor-Vise. His automatic bobbin is a noteworthy contribution to fly tying as well. The bobbin features a self-winding arbor that simplifies thread management. The bobbin retracts automatically to the proper position and then hangs suspended from the fly where released. This results in faster, better fly tying. These bobbins work particularly well with rotary vises. You can purchase the automatic bobbin separately, but first-time owners are encouraged to get the kit, which includes three extra spools (required for use with this bobbin), which hold between 50 and 500 yards of thread, depending on the thread diameter. (nor-vise.com)

$95.00

Wapsi German Ice Tempered Fly Tying Scissors by Wasa

Good scissors are critical to good fly tying, particularly when trimming deer hair heads and synthetic materials. Scissors that can handle such work well are few and far between. These scissors, manufactured in Solingen, Germany, are 4 ½” overall with double serrated fine-tip blades of 1 ¾” that will more than get the job done. (wapsifly.net)

$69.00

ThinOptics Readers

Unless you never tie a fly smaller than 4/0, you’ll eventually need a pair of readers. ThinOptics combines the world smallest readers with a number of carry options, including cases small enough to fit on your keychain, in your wallet, or on your phone. They’re inexpensive enough that you’ll want several pair, including one for your fly tying kit. We take ours fishing for when we need to tie on flies, repair leaders, or for any task that requires near vision. Readers come in four lens strengths and six frame colors. (thinoptics.com)

Starting at $19.95

Hareline Dubbin Bling Rabbit Strips

Winner of the International Fly Tackle Dealer’s (IFTD) Best in Show Award for 2019 in the category of Fly Tying Materials, Bling Rabbit Strips incorporate solid and holographic colors attached to the hide. The synthetic material gives rigidity to the strip, reducing the chance that the material will foul when casting. These strips are sure to enhance the look and performance of any saltwater pattern that calls for a zonker strip (think Tarpon Bunny). (hareline.com)

$5.90

Dr. Slick Hook File

In truth, all of us here at TFFM use chemically sharpened hooks. If we ding a hook point, we throw the fly away and get a fresh one. However, we realize not all anglers are like us and that most probably still use stainless steel hooks (as we all did at one time). If you use stainless steel hooks (or plated carbon steel hooks that are not chemically sharpened) you need to carry a hook file. This option from Dr. Slick is portable and economical. Constructed of stainless steel, it comes in two sizes, 4” and 6”. The 4” model has a medium side (300 grit) and a fine side (600 grit). The 6” model has a heavy side (150 grit) and a medium side (300 grit). (drslick.com)

From $11.95

Umpqua DreamStream Plus 7-Piece Tying Tool Kit

Despite its freshwater name, this is a quality fly tying tool set with nice machining, etched parts for no-slip grip, great hand feel, and a cool blue color. The set includes, bobbin, bobbin threader, bodkin, whip-finish tool, hackle pliers, hair stacker, and 5” scissors. These tools are built to last a lifetime of tying, and even if they don’t, the entire set is under $80. Everything you need including a carrying case. (umpqua.com)

$79.99

Just Add H2O – Fishient

Fish Scale Synthetic Wing and Tail Fibers

We particularly like this product because it’s a blend of synthetic fiber with just the right amount of flash. The pearly twisted flash and crimped nylon simulates the scales of baitfish and makes your flies irresistible to the predator. (fishient.com)

From $6.50

ProLite Electronix Professional LED Light Kit with Magnification Lens

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The post Gear Guide – Fly Tying first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Gear Guide – Fly Tying appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The autumn window opens around Labor Day, highlighted by a welcome drop in humidity and a perceptible cooling of daybreak temperatures. The hint of summer is still there so the fishing is comfortable, unlike late fall, when chilly mornings at Montauk in the surf leave fingers numb from gripping the fly rod and stripping line. Down along Jupiter’s beaches the cooling temperatures bring shivers to the pre-dawn magic hour.  Whether you fish Rhode Island, Cape Hatteras, or West Palm Beach, autumn will hold court until sometime in early to mid October, when fall barges in late in the month with rude, blustery winds. 

The fish get charged up in autumn as masses of baby bunker, silversides, herring, and mullet  drop out of the shallow coastal bays and rivers and begin to migrate in waves along the beaches. The ocean-going bait will often stop off with side trips inside coastal inlets to rest before continuing their journey. Striped bass; weakfish and bluefish; and tarpon, jacks, and snook down south; follow the bait buffet, which draws them from their summer haunts in the shallow bays, sounds, and rivers.

Fly-rodders are often amazed at the intensity of the fishing on one day, supremely discouraged the next as the bait and gamefish flee from one area and move on to the next. The bait, and gamefish like striped bass, may hold for several days until a weather change gives them a nudge to get back on the migration schedule.  A few gamefish will hold over for a week or so in one location as they seem to wait for the next wave of bait. 

Some of the best autumn places to fly fish are just inside inlets, like the entrance to the Manasquan River in New Jersey, or Sebastian Inlet in Florida, but there’s a mental game to be played out every morning. Some days the bites come rat-ta-tat-tat like a machine gun, one fish after another striking the fly, while another day is nothing more than practice casting. There’s no substitute for perseverance; those who fish the good spots every day will be rewarded with plenty of fish, while those who wait for the next fishing report will only score if they luck into a school. Each day is full of promise, yet tempered with nice surprises and occasional disappointments.

Some fly anglers get the heebie-jeebies and move around a lot in autumn, searching the beaches and inlet jetties for signs of bird play or tell-tale flashes of splashing water as gamefish chase bait to the surface. Driving quickly from spot to spot, these anglers often miss the action, relying instead on a buddy’s cell-phone call to alert them to a blitz that more than likely will vanish before they get their truck into gear. Being anchored to one beach or wading spot with no sign of life can be a fool’s errand, but persistence and working a spot thoroughly often pays off with more bites in autumn than running and gunning from one beach spot to another. If there are signs of bait, it’s probably a good idea to work that spot hard before deciding to move. 

The boat fly angler has many more options and after thoroughly working one spot, can quickly move to another, jumping one by one from one area to another until finding the right combination of bait, temperature, water clarity, and eager-to-bite gamefish. It’s a fishy game of hop scotch, played out by carefully working tides and times at each location before moving to the next.

Until he passed away back in 2009, Jack Gartside was an icon at Northeast winter fly fishing shows, and he loved to talk of his autumn adventures.  A quiet guy, he sat at his tying table working his magic with thread, feathers, and hair, and cheerfully shared his experiences with anyone who paused to strike up a conversation.  Although he primarily fished Massachusetts for striped bass, especially the rich waters around Boston, many fly guys from other coastal regions eagerly took notes while he talked about his fishing adventures in the autumn season, and they applied Jack’s techniques to their local waters. Jack was always generous with advice with a wry sense of humor that always made other fly fishermen smile, yet his funny quips had a serious purpose and helped make his points about the fly fishing tips and techniques he was handing out. You had to pay attention.

Jack liked to catch fish on the surface for the visual appeal and excitement of the topwater strikes, even if it meant catching fewer fish. He once said, “The best time to find fish feeding on the surface seems to be from three hours into the falling tide until dead low; and then the first three hours into the rising tide.” Jack believed that the current was strongest at these times, and this helped to concentrate the swirling pods of bait, which in turn lit up the appetites of striped bass. “If this period occurs in the early morning or late afternoon, so much the better,” he said, and that’s why so many of the best striped bass fly fishermen fish at these times. 

A big box of flies is not needed for autumn.  If you’re like Jack, you know a few surface flies will fool plenty of fish.  For quiet waters inside inlets, around marshes and salty creeks, bridges, and shallow sand bars, the Gartside Gurgler is a top contender. But these aren’t the small Gurglers of summer. Step up to a 1/0 or 2/0 long-shank hook and tie them with either bucktail for the tail, or with long flat-wing-style saddles for a long profile. The long saddles swing and weave behind the foam body with an enticing slow-motion dance that can really drive striped bass nuts.

For the quiet backwaters of autumn an oversize bright chartreuse Gurgler is a favorite that gets the attention of northeast striped bass and southeast Florida snook.  It’s a great pattern for early morning and at dusk when its gurgling action pulls striped bass out of the marshes.

In shallow water an intermediate line and Clouser Minnows are favorites for September striped bass, but in deeper water I often use an intermediate line with a 350-grain sinking head and with a bright-colored floating running line, like the Sci Anglers Mastery Express I’ve been using for quite a few years. The bright orange floating section allows me to visually follow the line direction, and I can even detect strikes as the running line twitches when a bass takes the fly.

A great surface popper is Bob Popovics’ Banger.  Snappy twitches with the line hand make it pop, while slow pulls make it slurp and slide.  Most fly guys with a “feel” for creating a lifelike presentation use a combo of both retrieves to fool eager bass.  A little trick is to cut the face of the popper on a shallow slant so it spits more water. The slant-cut foam body can also be rotated so the angle faces downward, creating a sort of swimming lip. With short twitches of the line the lip dives the Banger down an inch or so, creating a struggling action that bass can’t ignore. 

Surface strikes are very cool, and at dawn and dusk small striped bass will often feed so aggressively you can rack up a good score of a dozen or so fish in an hour, but if you want bigger fish get the fly down below the surface. The big girls won’t usually expend too much effort to chase baitfish on top, nor will they compete with the quick-moving younger bass, so a deeper presentation is needed to get a response. 

An extra plus for the Clousers is the jigging action on the retrieve. The up-and-down motion of the Clouser creates a more active presentation than a simple suspending fly, and the jigging action is enhanced if the Clouser is tied on a jig-style hook, like the Owner 5317 Wide Bend hook.  Other good flies for a jigging action are patterns tied with a weighted head, like the ubiquitous Popovics’ Jiggy, which is a perennial favorite. Fly patterns with jigging actions are often ideal choices for shallow-water weakfish or sea trout, and just as in spring, some decent-size tiderunners will show up in autumn. 

Live baitfish don’t always aggressively hop around, and if you watch them carefully from a dock or bulkhead, they swim with a relaxed motion, at times appearing nearly motionless in the water unless attacked. That’s why some fly-rodders prefer the suspending presentation of a fly pattern that can pulsate with a snake-like action. The Bucktail Deceiver looks so amazingly lifelike with a swimming action you’d swear is a real bait fish. Another good choice is the Tabory Snake Fly with a bulky deer-hair head that also pushes water.  Both patterns can be tied small to imitate a silver-dollar peanut bunker, or large like a 12-inch herring, or in between to perfectly duplicate a 6-inch mullet or a pilchard. In shallow surf they’re a perfect choice with an intermediate line, but can also be fished very deep on full-sink or sink-tip lines. 

Back bay or surf, other good patterns include Polar Fiber Minnows tied high-tie style, any roundish silhouette baitfish tied in bright and dark colors with Enrico Puglisi’s EP Fibers, and several lengths and colors of Surf Candies.  There are infinite variations of these basic patterns that can be tied to imitate every baitfish that swims the coast. 

North or South, surface action or deep, along the beaches or in the back bays, autumn delivers superb fly fishing choices all along the East Coast. 

Pete Barrett has been fly fishing in salt water since the 1960s. He was a charter boat skipper for 30 years, and he was on The Fisherman magazine’s editorial staff from 1973 until his retirement. Pete has published over 1100 magazine articles and is the author of five popular books on angling. Pete is a Florida representative for the International Game Fish Association, and he’s currently an active member of the Atlantic Salt Water Flyrodders and the West Palm Beach Fishing Club. Pete lives in Juniper, Florida.

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Who Caught the First Bonefish on a Fly?

Running the Coast for striped bass

A NEW NORM FOR MONTAUK’S LEGENDARY RUN

The post Amazing Autumn Fly Fishing first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Amazing Autumn Fly Fishing appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

“The best fly I know for bonefish is the Rhode Shrimp fly which is made of three hackles wound around the shank of a No. 1/0 hook with three hackles going out on each side of the shank pointing backward from the bend, a sort of forked tail. This fly has a lot of action in the water and I like it best in natural (or dyed tan) Plymouth rock hackles. Homer Rhode, Miami Beach Rod and Reel Club, Hibiscus Island, Miami Beach, Florida designed the fly.”—Lee Wulff, in a 1949 letter to author J. Edson Leonard

One of the most intriguing figures in the early days of saltwater fly fishing was a 6-foot-5-inch giant who wandered the wilds of the Everglades—often at night and usually alone. Introverted by nature, he lived a life deeply immersed in the natural world. He loved the creatures of the Glades and knew where they lived, how they conducted their lives and even knew their Latin names. He could catch the fattest snook with a fly rod or the biggest rattlesnake with his hands. The backcountry was his home.

Using a houseboat as a base camp, he spent countless hours in the Ten Thousand Islands, navigating the endless maze of mangroves and shell mounds. Had you encountered him back there, it’s unlikely you could have engaged him in lengthy conversation. He was to-the-point and self-contained. Still, even in the briefest exchange, you might have sensed he was someone special. And if so, your instincts would have been dead-on. Because the person before you was one of those rare people, totally in touch with the planet, a man that had devoted himself to the sun, the moon, and the rain.

Homer S. Rhode Jr. was born on December 10, 1906, in Reading, Pennsylvania, where his father was a local physician. As a young boy, Homer had many interests. During his school days, he was a member of the Gun Club and the Camera Club, and he would be a firearms enthusiast and a photographer for the rest of his life. He was also a versatile athlete. Homer played on the football team and the school’s championship baseball team. Later in life, he would even try out as a pitcher for the New York Yankees. In addition to team sports, he was a purveyor of the sweet science, and good enough to win a Golden Gloves tournament. Yet his favorite pastime was the one he practiced with his father and brothers. Near their Berks County home, there were numerous fine trout streams such as Little Lehigh Creek, Maiden Creek, and Manatawny Creek. It was something Homer, his father, and brothers took full advantage of—for in the Rhode’s household fly fishing was a family affair.

Just after 1925, the family moved to Coral Gables, Florida. It must have been a disappointment for Homer to leave behind the trout streams of his youth. Now outside his window were Biscayne Bay and the Everglades. Somehow, Rhode correctly recognized these waters for what they offered—a brave new world of fly fishing—and he immediately began tying saltwater flies. While there is no record of what his earliest flies looked like, they must have been effective. By 1930, he had landed a bonefish and a permit on a fly, making him one of the first fly anglers in the world to take either species.

Homer married in 1940. He and his wife, Verta, got a place in Coral Gables and quickly had a son, Homer III, and a daughter, Veva. At this point, Homer had lived in Florida for over a decade, time enough to gain an understanding of fly fishing in salt water. In those same years, he had also acquired an encyclopedic knowledge of southern Florida’s wildlife. Whether it lived in Biscayne Bay or the Everglades, he wanted to learn about it. And his fascination with the natural world was reflected in his home. In the yard, he kept raccoons, possums, and armadillos; in the garage, there were terrariums loaded with live snakes; and in the house, snake skins covered the walls.

As the 1940s ebbed, Rhode’s involvement in fly fishing increased. He taught a course in fly fishing at the University of Miami and had become a member of the famed Miami Beach Rod and Reel Club. The fledgling Wapsi Fly Company began marketing some of his patterns. But most important, from his vise had emerged two flies that would significantly influence saltwater fly design: the Homer Rhode Jr. Tarpon Streamer and the Homer Rhode Jr. Tarpon Bucktail. Both flies appeared in Joseph Bates Jr.’s 1950 book, Streamer Fly Fishing in Fresh and Salt Water. 

The Homer Rhode Jr. Tarpon Streamer is a simple fly, constructed with splayed hackle wings tied off the bend of the hook and hackle palmered around the hook shank. Rhode described his design rationale in this way:

“You will note that all of my neck hackle and saddle hackle flies are tied with very heavy collars. The divided (splayed) wing flies have the wings tied as far back on the shank of the hook as possible, and the collar is started at that point. This helps to keep the wing from wrapping around the shank of the hook and thus keeps the fly from turning or spinning, at the same time assuring a natural action. In more than twenty years of experimenting with salt water flies, I have found that these features cause fewer refusals, less mouthing of the tail and that I hook more and lose fewer fish. My flies are longer and larger than usual. The heavy collar is due to the fact that I fish very slowly, usually in very shallow water. The divided wing opens and closes like a pair of scissors, making the fly seem to breathe. The heavy collar vibrates when fished slowly, seeming to give the fly added life.”

Even a casual look reveals this fly to be the progenitor of a considerable number of conventional tarpon flies, ones still in wide use today. It is also the source of Chico Fernandez’s Seaducer.

The Homer Rhode Jr. Tarpon Bucktail is an uncomplicated fly as well. Made mostly of bucktail, it has a short tail off the bend of the hook and, tied in at the hook eye, a wing that slants back over the thread body. Joe Brooks acknowledged that he took this basic fly design, fashioned it in several colors and popularized it as his well-known Blonde Series.

Curious and ready to experiment, Rhodes continued to push at the boundaries of our sport. Beyond chucking feathers at bonefish, permit, tarpon, spotted seatrout, and snook, Rhode cast to mullet and snappers with trout-size fly gear. For snapper, he used scaled-down flies made of white or yellow polar bear hair and then attached one or two spinner blades up front. Working around mangroves and even over shallow reefs and wrecks, he refined his technique until he could take snapper successfully. His approach to mullet took a more radical venture into what one might call ultra-light saltwater fly fishing. Realizing that mullet were algae-eaters, Rhode understood his flies would have to be tiny. So he tied them on hooks down to size 16 in white, light green, yellow, and black and then attached them to leaders tapered down to 4X. His largest mullet was 5 ¾ pounds; it burned 150 yards into the backing while leaping like a demon. (It makes you wonder how many species we are overlooking even today.)

Although he was active on many fronts, a brand-new challenge caught his eye. The recently formed Florida Game and Fresh Water Fish Commission had decided to organize its first band of conservation officers. Wasting no time, he enrolled. And when the first graduating officers lined up for a class photograph, Homer Rhode Jr. was one of them.

Enforcing game laws in the Everglades was desperately needed, yet wandering in the backcountry without any real hope of backup was clearly a dangerous business. Back then, southern Florida was as lawless and untamed as any place on earth. Here, where the temperate zone meets the tropics, you had gators, crocs, snakes, sharks, and clouds of mosquitoes thick enough to choke a horse. Worse yet, hiding in the buttonwood hammocks were varmints of the two-legged kind. The Glades were infested with criminals. At any moment, you could be face-to-face with poachers, smugglers, moonshiners, or even murderers—none of whom wanted a lawman around. So it’s no real surprise that, while on duty, Rhode would find himself in a gun battle. A crack shot since a kid, he came out on top, yet in the process was forced to kill a man.

After that unfortunate incident, Rhode hung up his badge and spent the next three years fly fishing commercially for snook; it was legal at the time. Working the waters around Everglades City, Marco, and the Tamiami Trail, Rhode fished day and night, filling up a big wooden ice chest built into his car. He made two daily trips to the Miami market, selling his catch in at six cents a pound. That might not sound like much, but on a good day, he’d bring in half a ton. To do that with a fly rod speaks volumes about Homer’s skill, but his intimate knowledge of the natural world played a role, too. While driving the Trail at night, he would keep an eye peeled in his headlights for leopard frogs plastered to the pavement. Rhode realized that wherever the frogs showed up in number, the snook would be waiting in the water alongside the road. Stopping the car, he would jump out with his fly rod, all the while being careful: Rattlesnakes and cottonmouths were fond of the frogs, too.

Eventually, he took a job with Miami-Dade County. In an unfortunate accident, he was exposed to a powerful rodenticide. It damaged his nervous system, weakening his arms and legs and forcing him to retire with a disability. On the upside, it allowed him more time on his houseboat near Chokoloskee. Roughly 30 feet long, it was a rustic affair, with the only creature comforts being piles of books. Still, Homer loved this simple retreat, not only for the solace it offered but also for the freedom to spend unlimited hours exploring his favorite waters.

Homer Rhode Jr. passed away on July 7, 1976. The loop knot that bears his name is widely known, of course, yet the true extent of his contributions to our sport have remained largely hidden. To a degree, we can attribute that to Homer’s humble personality. Reluctant to be in the limelight, he deliberately kept himself out of it. Regardless, this much is clear: Homer Rhode Jr. was a pivotal player in the dawning days of our sport, and he richly deserves to be ranked as a pioneer and remembered as a man of many skills. He was a fly-rodder, naturalist, game warden, guide, amateur herpetologist, commercial fisherman—the list goes on and on. And because of this, it is clear that behind his quiet exterior there lived an exceptional mind. As the old proverb goes,  “Still waters run deep.”

The author would like to thank several members of the Miami Rod and Reel Club: Captain Dan Kipnis, Suzan Baker, Jack Holeman, Steve Roadruck, and Cromwell A. Anderson. He is also indebted to Gail Morchower of the International Game Fish Association, the late Lefty Kreh, and sporting book dealer Dave Foley. Above all, he would like to express sincere thanks to Homer Rhode Jr.’s son, Homer Rhode III.

Bio: Ed Mitchell is a writer, photographer, and lecturer with extensive fly fishing experience in fresh and salt water. He has written for all of the major fly fishing magazines and is the author of four books on the subject. Ed lives in Punta Gorda, Florida. His website is www.edmitchelloutdoors.com.

“One night Homer and I left his houseboat in a tin boat to do some fishing. Guided only by stars and the ink-black silhouette of the shoreline, Homer steered his boat through the labyrinth of the Ten Thousand Islands. Eventually we arrived at a spot loaded with snook. The following morning, back at the houseboat, I suggested a return trip. Homer paused and in a quiet voice said we couldn’t. He did not know how to get there in the light of day.”—Lefty Kreh, in interview with Ed Mitchell

HOMER RHODE JR. FLY RECIPES

Homer Rhode Jr. Streamer

Hook: Size 1 or 1/0 for bonefish, to 3/0 for tarpon.
Wing: Six saddle hackles tied divided (splayed) at the bend of the hook.
Collar: Three hackles wound from the bend of the hook toward the eye.

Notes: Also referred to in the literature as the Homer Rhode Shrimp Fly, Rhode dressed this streamer in a number of color combinations, including a wing of yellow, grizzly, and white hackles collared with yellow and white hackles; a wing of grizzly hackles and a collar of yellow hackles; yellow wing and collar; wing of white hackles and a collar of red hackles. Lee Wulff’s favorite version for bonefish was grizzly hackle in natural (pictured) or dyed tan for both wing and collar.

Homer Rhode Jr. Bucktail

Thread: Red.
Hook: Size 1 or 1/0 for bonefish, to 3/0 for tarpon.
Tail: White bucktail secured along the shank with thread.
Overwing: White bucktail, as long as the tail, tied in just behind the hook eye.

Homer Rhode Jr. Bucktail (Version 2)

Hook: Size 1 or 1/0 for bonefish, to 3/0 for tarpon.
Wing: Yellow bucktail tied in at the bend.
Collar: Three yellow hackles wound from the bend of the hook toward the eye.

Notes: Mr. Leonard’s book makes it clear that the tail and wings in the above two patterns were originally tied using polar bear (now endangered).

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The post Historical Figures in Saltwater Fly Fishing – Homer Rhode Jr. first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Historical Figures in Saltwater Fly Fishing – Homer Rhode Jr. appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.