Black drum present a challenge for sight casters, both day and night.
By Scott Sommerlatte
Angler presents a light jig to feeding fish, illuminated by the rising moon.
Many Texas anglers are obsessed with specs and spots. If it is not a trout or redfish, it is not worth eating, so not worth catching. As a sport fisherman I am always trying to look beyond that limited horizon, and for something abundant enough to depend upon to add to that spec-and-spot mix.
In Texas waters, and Gulf coastal waters from Louisiana to Florida come to think of it, black drum fills that bill quite nicely. Catching black drum isn’t exactly a new thing for me. I have been doing it most of my life. And targeting them specifically isn’t something I started last week either. As a flats guide, I know the value of a backup species, and a solid backup plan when all else fails. One trip in particular really opened my eyes to the viability of sight fishing for the “other drum.”
One August years ago, I had just gotten off the water and hadn’t even pulled my boat out when my phone rang. It was a gentleman who had booked me to fish his young son and him the following morning. With the long summer daylight hours, they were interested in trying to find someplace to fish that evening to kill time. To make a long story short, we hooked up for a “three-hour tour” and caught the heck out of black drum.
We left the dock intent on finding tailing redfish. Because it was late in the day, I opted to head to a reliable nearby backcountry flat. We had a strong, full-moon ebb current and a major solunar period to boot. If the fish were there, the falling water would give them nowhere to hide. I idled up to the flat, and shut down. We quickly slipped into wading boots and bailed out.
What's in a Name?
A couple of years ago, I was fishing with Flip Pallot for redfish in my home waters near Freeport, Texas. I pointed out a black drum that spooked from under the boat. Flip turned and looked at me and, with a quizzical look and that wry tone to his voice, said, “Scott, I wonder why no one ever calls them blackfish?” And I’ve wondered the same thing. We call their cousin, red drum, redfish, right? My conclusion is that the black drum, Pogonias cromis , will never get the respect given to red drum. That has to do with its normally fussy attitude toward lures and flies and its less sporty appearance.
—S.S .
I spotted three reds right away as they crawled up to a sandbar with their backs and tails exposed to the warm evening light. The man’s son was not able to make a fly cast into the headwind, so offered the shot to his dad. His first two casts were blown off target, but a third shot was a winner. After a couple of strips, one of the reds surged forward and took the fly. We were off to a great start and things just kept getting better.
By 6:30 p.m., the moon was rising in the eastern sky and a major feed was in full swing. Tails popped up here and there as single reds rooted the sand bottom for dinner and, in the distance, several large pods of fish humped up the water as they moved into the shallows for the evening buffet. We waded farther into the flat, catching a fish here and missing one there, but we were no longer just throwing our Sea-Ducers and Bendbacks to redfish. Black drum had moved in with them. After several failed attempts at hooking one, I assured them that they were doing nothing wrong. It’s just that black drum tend to be less apt to take a fly than redfish. Quite frequently, flies fail miserably.
As the light failed, the reds began to ignore our flies. By sunset, black drum tails sprouted all over the flat as far as the eye could see, silhouetted against the western horizon. Because the reds were ignoring our flies, I figured that they just could not see them in the low light. Perhaps we needed something extra to help them find it. I rummaged through my fly box and fished out a little red-and-gold rattle fly. I was hoping the sound of the rattle would help the reds home in on the fly and make an already great evening spectacular. The first cast made me look like I knew what I was doing, as the son hooked a nice red. However, the next few casts resulted in refusals, so I was looking dumber by the toss.
