I'll be presenting one of my night fishing seminars starting at 6:00pm on April 10th, at the Middle Haddam Public Library (2 Knowles Rd, Middle Haddam, CT 06456). This will be the first in person presentation I've done since the pandemic! Admission is free.

This seminar will cover the necessities for anyone looking to start or expand their skill-set night fishing trout streams. It covers gear, safety, flies, reading water, and other strategies. It'll run about an hour long. I hope to see some of you there!

 Everything is happening all at once at this time of year, really. I've been out here and there after whatever is most appealing to me that day. Today I was out salmon fishing, which has the biggest time limit as, at least in the Shetucket, the salmon seem to get weird right when the stocked trout go in. I had four grabs, one of which resulted in a break-off (don't let those wind knots go unchecked!). All took light colored flies: one a white bugger, the other three a white and black Sunray Shadow.  There's a big rain event coming so it'll likely be just this week and then done. If we're lucky and they hold off the trout stocking, maybe when it drops back down I'll open up a few days to clients. 

Suckers are on the move, and I've been targeting them when time avails. They're exceptionally easy at this time of year, very difficult in others. If you're interested in learning to target these tricky, hard fighting, and often large native fish, perhaps even looking to get a trophy fish pin or even beat a length record, the next three weeks are prime. Another often overlooked native is also exceptionally active right now. This is perhaps the best time of year to target very large chain pickerel, and I'll take clients for them as well. These are short windows for the big, big fish, so if you're looking for one don't wait.

Of course the truck trout are being dumped around the state now, much to my... eh, I'll leave the complaining for another day. You all know how I feel about hatchery trout as a fisheries management strategy and ecological problem anyway (if you don't you certainly will eventually). But they're here so we may as well stick some fur and feathers in their faces. The mouse bite is happening. Some years it starts in February. I'm talking about the daylight mouse bite, not the night bite... but that doesn't mean night fishing isn't going now too. It is, but it's focused on streamers and wet flies. However you're interested in targeting trout, be it at night, in daylight, on dries, on nymphs, on streamers, on mice, on wets... you name it, I'll do my best to put you on them. If I don't feel I'm the guy for what you're looking for I'm sure I know someone that is. 

 Garth and I found ourselves wandering around CT late on New Years Day. It was a dreary, grey, and damp day, though exceptionally warm for the 1st of the year. The morning had featured that dangerous sort of pea-soup fog, fog so thick it soaked clothing. That had lifted but was only replaced by thick grey stratiform clouds. Front passage was not predicted until early morning, so I knew warmth would hold well into the night. We fished through the daylight without any notable success, but I was not done when the sun set. I had an idea, a spot I wanted to try. 

I'd started to rethink where wild trout might move throughout the season the year before. Brook trout have a long history of success even under extreme anthropogenic pressure. They managed to survive through the near complete deforestation of New England, and even now, though very notable declines have been documented, they persist in river systems that are often very impaired. One of a fish's methods for surviving a cataclysmic event is to run away from it. To persist, brook trout have to have moved around a lot. And they must still do so, right? This would explain why I was sometimes finding stretches of river that I knew with certainty held salmonid populations to be completely void of them during certain time periods. 

Winter is, in some ways, a potentially deadly time for a salmonid. Ice and food availability are the biggest threats. What makes those threats null? The presence of deep, food rich water. The previous winter I'd devoted some time to exploring a few streams that emptied into significant wetlands with unsatisfactory results. One stream produced fish, but not as many as I knew it should. Another dealt me more than one skunking. Though I was unable to revisit them in the spring, one observation gave me a hunch. Noah and I stopped briefly one day at a spot within one of the wetlands, where the braided swampy stream was briefly constricted and deepened. We saw a school of brook trout, surprisingly large brook trout, in this deep elongated pool.

This was a spot that had been surveyed via electrofishing before, and when I looked back at the data what I'd remembered had not been wrong. No brook trout had been present at the times it was sampled. Those surveys were performed in the summer. Brook trout, particularly large brook trout, are far more reliant on a varied habitat than we give them credit. A stretch of stream might provide ideal spawning gravel but minimal cover or food during low water. A swamp might be too warm in the summer but provide refuge and readily available food in the winter. A stretch of pocket water may remain well oxygenated in summer but be choked in with anchor ice in the winter. Many fish need an interconnected mosaic of habitat to be successful, and their movements throughout these zones are often fairly predictable. That doesn't always work for angling, though. I can't count the places I still ask myself "where the hell do these fish go?". Sometimes you just can't find them. That doesn't mean they are all dead or something, they're either just not where you're looking or their behavior is making them less than receptive to your angling strategies. Just down the road from the spot Noah and I saw the brookies was a near identical if not more impressive pool in and arm off the same system. I've still yet to encounter a fish in that one and I just don't know why. I may well never.

This time though, I'd cracked part of the code. Garth and I pulled into a parking spot near the swamp hole and then waited a while. We hadn't been able to avoid hitting the water with our headlights so I wanted to rest it to have the best shot. A while late, we quietly approached the water. I covered the same 10 square feet of the near-still hole, often retrieving the fly over the same water three times consecutively. There was, at one point, a barely perceptible swirl on the fly. Then, a few minutes later, one of the brook trout I knew must be there revealed itself. She wasn't as big as I know is possible, but at a foot long this is a great CT native char, and one caught in complete darkness, in January, on a mouse. 

Thinking I had it absolutely pinned I decided to take Garth to two nearly identical spots to try to repeat the success. It didn't work at all we found no more fish. I think I know why but I'll leave that for another day. 

There are two takeaways for this, in my opinion: fish catching survey methods, be it angling, netting, or electrofishing, provide tiny slices of the pie. They can be incredibly helpful in determining if fish are present, but are very unreliable for determining whether a fish species isn't present. They just may not be present exactly when and where the sampling took place. 

And of course, if you're not catching fish, they may legitimately not be there at the moment. No amount of fly changes, strategies, or approaches will change your success if all the fish you're targeting are two miles away. Sometimes you need to think outside the box, and by box I mean the "fishiest" looking water. Fly fisherman in particular aren't always the best judge of productive trout water, often because the gravitate to the "pretty" stuff. Not all trout water fits the classic, tumbling freestone or manicured, grassy spring creek stereotype. Some of it is really muddy, slow, and has brush around that is so thick you'd think no living creature could penetrate it and reach the water itself, and that shreds expensive waders with ease. Even if you manage to get to the water, conventional fly cast strategies simply will not do the job. But that might be where the fish are, depending on the season.

Until next time, 

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

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

Until next time, 

My distaste for the social media trend of "mousing" is not a secret. Of course, I haven't exactly prevented the perpetuation of that trend with this blog or my writing elsewhere. I enjoy catching trout on big dry flies that imitate rodents and amphibians. But what I enjoy more is understanding trout behavior, and only slinging rodents at night doesn't give much of a picture of nocturnal trout behavior. It isn't the best way to get the most or the largest trout at night either. If an angler wants to get the whole picture, sure, they should fish mice. But they should also tight line, swing wets, drift and strip streamers, fish dry flies by audio, and creep pushers along gravel shelves. I consider myself skilled at each method and I apply each one conditionally, and sometimes use three or four different tactics in a single night. Flexibility is important. 

 I'd not yet fished at all on November 9th. It was a warm clear night; uncommon conditions for the time of year; and I was keen to take advantage. Typically such nighttime temps in late fall come  front passage. Rain, fog, and low clouds are typically associated. None of these things would be bad but a clear warm night is sometimes preferable when night fishing for trout. And that's what I was doing this time. I've been intent on pushing the boundaries of night fishing for salmonids, and one of those boundaries is the time of year. Last winter I caught a lot of trout after dark so it's proving a worthwhile endeavor. Unfortunately I've been mostly limited to waters close to home, which are on the whole put-and-take trout streams. Unnatural though these fish are they at least have provided me some insight before I can get to some wilder fisheries. 

I started out drifting a woolly bugger, a method proven in a lot of conditions and during different seasons. I caught a small rainbow on the second cast and another a few casts later. It then promptly stopped producing takers.

On probably the 30th cast without any sort of grab, I heard something swirl just downstream and started to wonder. I plucked a Master Splinter out of my box and tied it on in place of the bugger. 

It only took three casts.

As I released that fish I chuckled quietly to myself about how unnatural it was. I wouldn't put it past a wild brown trout or brookie to take a swipe at a mouse in mid-November under such unseasonably warm conditions, but it would take a lot more doing to find a willing one. By contrast, I hooked a dozen hatchery rainbows on a mouse this night. Unfortunately I don't think I can use that as any sort of benchmark, these fish just weren't behaving as stream born trout or char would. 

Regardless of the unnatural behavior and ecologically unsound reality of these hatchery rainbows, it was funny to catch trout on the surface late at night so far into the fall season. It is probably worth noting that it is possible. 

On a related note, anyone have have any good recipes for stocker trout? 

The day is always darkest right before the dawn.
I stood looking at the reflection of a factory flood light on the swirling surface of an urban wild trout stream in my 6th hour. When I'd made my first cast, there was still a little bit of light from the setting sun gracing the deep green leaves and numerous brick buildings that lined the stream, diffuse and filtered by a layer of low clouds. The brown I'd just released, which had taken a Master Splinter, was so small I felt bad for jamming such a large hook in it's face. At least it was a stream born fish, unlike the handful of rainbows I'd hooked prior. Though they filled the gaps in what would have been a near full night lull, I'd just rather not have caught them at all.


I thumbed through my fly box, full of Pushers, Muddlers, stone fly nymphs, Governors, Professors, Kate McLarens, Mr. Hankies, and bunny leeches, many wet from their turns on the end of my short, stout leader. Nothing had worked well. I sighed, shoulders slumped, and closed the box.
This sucked.
When changing flies and presentations doesn't work, something else needs to change. So, tired though I was, I hoofed it to a different river. Smaller, cleaner, and more densely trout populated, I wasn't expecting the 8 pound wild brown trout that was possible in the river I'd just left. But I hoped I might at least find a trout that would put to shame the largest stocked rainbow I'd caught there. With the light of a new day starting to give the sky that deep blue color of false dawn, I laid the first cast against a cut bank and about s*** myself when a low teens brown hit the Splinter roughly like a pike smashes a duckling. This was no longer night fishing, I could see it happen. And, miraculously, I didn't miss. As I released that fish I thought to myself "that was definitely a fluke".
10 fish later, I had accepted that something magical was happening.




Fishing a mouse for trout isn't about catching a lot of fish, and contrary to what many might believe it isn't even about catching the biggest fish. If it is you're doing it wrong. Mousing for brown trout is about catching trout on your terms. It works, and occasionally works well, but rarely ever does it meet the terms of enough of the fish in the river to catch the most or the biggest fish. If I want to catch a ton of trout at night, I'll fish a muddler or a wet fly. If I want to catch the biggest trout I can I'll fish a large Pusher, a large Muddler, or a large black leech. For whatever reason, this particular morning, all the trout wanted to turn my Master Splinters into paste. This doesn't happen with any regularity, I've been round the block enough times to know that. So I enjoyed it while it lasted.



Eventually, I had a very large fish swirl on the mouse and not connect. I just couldn't stand to walk past it looking for the next fish, I had to catch that one. Off came the mouse and on went a small sparkle minnow. I dropped that fly into the shallow side of the trough, made one strip, and had my rod about get ripped from my hands as the king of the pool ate and ran hell towards the cut bank. He went airborne, crashing through the overhanging bushes more like a tarpon in the mangroves than a trout in a low gradient small stream. Though my tackle was fortified for doing battle with monsters even larger than this my heart beat still quickened. There was some give and take before he was mine. Quietly uttered expletives denoted my shock at this fish. That it wasn't on the mouse made it no less exceptional. I'd found what I was looking for and still done so on my own terms... as well as the fish's.



The longest, most frustrating of nights may give way to something spectacular. It did this time. About two dozen wild trout to hand, some of a size uncommon in a small CT stream....
There's a reason I fish dusk till dawn or longer, and there's a reason I try to be on the water as much as possible. I can take logs, pay attention to weather, and focus on every bit of minutia, but none of that is worth a damn if I'm not out there putting flies in the water. I regret the days I've missed this season, not while out herping or storm chasing, but doing things that weren't worth my time. But the same might be said about life as can be said about that glorious morning.
The day is always darkest right before the dawn.
Until next time,

I kind of expected my winter night fishing to improve when the state began stocking. At least in terms of numbers, not quality, I'll take holdovers over freshies any day regardless of size. Last year, in March, I able to catch stockers at night more or less as soon as they were dumped into the TMA's, so I had no reason to think anything would be any different with fresh stockers going into the river in February. I was wrong, I've continued to catch fish but not as many as I was when there were literally hundreds fewer fish in the river. Is it odd that the freshies wouldn't be into night feeding? Only a little, given that they were in fairly similar conditions in March last year. Is it odd that the holdovers became harder to catch? I'd say no to that. If it was just you and 3 other family members living in your house and suddenly somebody dumped 25 idiots in through the roof, you'd probably freak out too. The only improvement was with mousing, but that wasn't happening after dark. It's been a strictly daytime method thus far this winter.

As an angler privileged with an exceptionally flexible (though impermanently so) work schedule, I recognize I get to fish more than most or at least as much as pretty much any other very driven fish bum. I am also lucky to live in a very fishy place. I still don't have my own vehicle, but don't need one to get to a lot of different species in a variety of different fishing scenarios. I've got a lot really close, but even the least fishy parts of the planet have options five to twenty minutes away from just about any home. If there isn't fishable water people probably wouldn't live there. Most fishable waters are never getting taken advantage of. To some degree that's fine, the best fishing pressure is no fishing pressure, but the amount of people that lament about how little they get to fish that have water within minutes of their home and work is crazy to me. If you don't want to fish more and are happy with how well you fish when you do get out, that's one thing. But if you only fish a couple times a month or less, complain about it, and also wish you were a better angler, there's no good reason you can't find the odd few minutes here and there to get on some piece of water. Keep that casting muscle memory in play, exercise your ability to see fish and read water. Wherever you happen to live, I'm sure there are fish somewhere in the neighborhood that you could be practicing on.

Here, not quite a mile and a half from my home, is a ditch. A ditch with some fish in it.


Some of those fish just so happen to be brook trout. This long, lean, spawned out girl fell for an Edson Tiger on the first cast into this stretch of slow water.


Believe it or not I crossed another brook trout stream less than half a mile from home on the way to this one. But part of the reason I passed that one up was that I wanted to get a fish or two on a mouse. This stream has some meat eaters in it, and some larger fish as well.


One moue eater was satisfying enough though, and I went redd hunting. I found them in all the places I've found redds in this stream in the last 6 years. Yeah, by this point these fish are practically my pets. The stream change a little year to year, but barring something seriously catastrophic I've got the drill down pat.



So I went to the next stream, which I found a little later but have also fished a lot for a while. It has a very different character and more fishable length. And the bottom 200ft are tidal.

November dry fly fish, 58th consecutive month.

Duped by the ever productive Ausable Ugly.

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

I've gotten out a bit over the last couple weeks to fish some small streams. This is one of those rare summers where my home river has periodically been cold enough to fish, mainly right after heavy rain. On one day after a rainstorm, I got out and fished mice there. This is something I'd tried there other times and I'd had some limited success. I hadn't managed to land a wild brown trout on the mouse during the day though. On this trip, I'm fairly certain every single wild brown I put that mouse in front of ate it. I caught a few but missed most and lost a number of large fish as well, including one solid 18 incher that I got enough of a look at to know was one of the best looking brown trout I'd ever seen.






More recently, though streams were still low, colder nights were making them safe to fish again. I went out after large brook trout. Believe it or not, the spot you see below is a great spot for brook trout some times of year, and late summer early fall is one such time. It looks like it should be piss warm, but I found it at 60 and 62 the times I fished it recently.


Unfortunately there was evidence that before the cold snap this water had been quite warm. There were a lot of sunfish and bass around, including this small pale specimen:


And I found a very large dead brook trout. At this size this fish may have been nearing the end of it's life anyway, but it is very likely the extreme heat the previous week had dealt the finale blow. I would have loved to have found this brook trout alive, it was the sort of trophy size fish I was here looking for.

Well, it worked. It was the perfect morning to look for a mouse bite: foggy, cloudy, and eventually rainy. The flow was perfect. We got there early. Withing minutes of arriving at the river, I'd had one big fish swipe at the mouse and miss and then another slightly smaller one pinned just briefly. Then one slob came up and just slurped it and I was into my largest wild brook trout yet. With 1x and my 5wt, the fight wasn't much to write home about, though I'd certainly only hooked a handful of brook trout that had given such a battle. My personal best wild brook trout, in Maine, on a master splinter, in daylight... this was totally bad ass. But it wasn't over... oh no, it was just beginning.



I missed a number more takes from slob brookies on the mouse just out of pure shock that it was working as well as it was. Of course, as I got over it, it kind of stopped working as well. I waffled for a while, trying to nail down a pattern, but I was only catching small fish again. But then I changed to a streamer, a dace imitation of my own devising that I call "Ace of Dace", and that worked. In a pocket just above where I'd lost my monster the day before a good sized brookie jumped on the take, clearing two feet easy. It refused to come back though, so I rested that fish and came back later. In the intervening time, I found some small fish and some quartz crystals.







Until next time.
Fish for the love of fish.
Fish for the love of places fish live.
Fish for you.



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