Of course, we all love to hunt and cast at tailing fish. And reds tail more often, more aggressively and more prolonged than bonefish and permit. That seductive, wagging tail tells you that a redfish is feeding. But there are different kinds of tailers.
Proven flats techniques paid off for this angler.
You might come upon head-down, hard-grubbing tailers, or “tip” tailers or slow cruisers in such shallow water that their tail tips cut the surface as they swim along. The latter redfish may not be feeding at the exact second you spot them, though the fact alone that they are up so shallow means they likely are considering doing so. The common thread between these reds is that you have an obvious target. But don’t just assume that all tailing reds are like garbage trucks. They can exhibit selectivity when they tail. Ordinarily, tailers are excavating crabs, shrimp, and/or marine worms, all of which are easy enough to imitate with artificial lures or flies. I’ve encountered finicky tailing reds that refused flies on many occasions, and stomach checks later confirmed they were digging small brown marine worms out of the mud. Today I carry worm flies, and reasonable facsimiles that more or less matched the size and color of the worms.
Tailing redfish seem to know they are conspicuous, so when you approach and cast at them, keep that in mind and be in stealth mode at all times.
Other Indicators
Sometimes school redfish won’t put up with any pressure—no matter how quietly you approach. This is typical of hard-fished waters. When reds are schooled this is a heartbreaking event for the angler, since you’re unlikely to find singles (all the fish are in the school), and when they’re gone, it’s over. Other days they seem determined to stay right where they are, boat traffic be damned. If you make them move they will circle like rabbits and within a few minutes come back to the same spot. This never happens often enough for me. You can (and should) keep fishing this same spot over and over until the fish finally wise up or it’s time to leave. Again, their position in the water column gives you a good idea of how tolerant they might be. Up high is good.
Behavior Modification
Sometimes a red will track your fly, following it, evidently trying to make up his mind whether he should take it or not. If you continue retrieving the bait you lead the fish right to you, and once he sees you he’s not going to strike. If you stop stripping and the fly hovers in the water column the fish usually turns off. If the fly dives to the bottom though, they frequently pick it right up. That red expects prey to hide when its life is on the line. For this reason I usually prefer using weighted flies when fishing for reds.
Weighted flies, especially those with dumbbell eyes, and almost all lures, make a distinct plopping noise when they hit the water. Aggressive, feeding fish hear that plop and come looking for the groceries, but nervous, spooky fish think the plop is death from above. The first couple of fish you throw to will let you know how they’re feeling that day.
You can pretty much throw anything to hungry fish and they scarf. On the flip side, spooky, fussy reds frequently require an unweighted fly that comes down softly onto the water. I like heavily dressed Bendbacks for this work, but other patterns such as Sea-Ducers will score, too. Let the behavior of the fish dictate fly choice. When spin fishing in this situation, cast the lure in front of and beyond a spooky fish. Start reeling before the bait hits the water, keeping the rod tip high so the bait stays on the surface, where you can see it. When it gets to where you would have liked to cast it if the fish weren’t so spooky, stop reeling and let it sink. The slightest twitch at that point is often enough to turn the trick, no matter how moody the redfish.
Schools of fish offer great possibilities, and great hazards. A single fish works on his own—one pair of eyes, one pair of ears, one pair of lateral lines, you get the picture. If you spook him, he’s gone, but he has relatively little effect on other fish that may be in the same area. A school works as a unit. One hundred fish mean two hundred eyes, two hundred ears, and if you spook one, they all spook.
Many anglers approach these schools much too aggressively. If you push too hard on the fish they usually vacate the premises. A much better approach requires liberal doses of patience. Try to stay about 50 feet off the school. They usually tolerate this quite well. Any decent saltwater fly fisher ought to be able to make a 50-foot cast with ease, and it’s no problem with conventional tackle.
Instead of casting right into the middle of them, treat it as a wing shooter does with quail or doves or ducks. In other words, don’t “flock shoot.” Rather, pick out a single fish at the edge of the school. Or better yet, cast a fly or lure to where they’re going and only move it after they get there. Take the time and trouble needed to obtain the position from which you get a good shot. Especially when fly fishing, casting from behind a school that’s swimming away from you only serves to speed up their departure.
Once the fish have decided to vacate, you can often follow a school of fish if you have an electric trolling motor. They frequently move too fast to follow them with a pushpole. Stay far enough from the fish that they cannot tell you’re there.
After spooked fish swim for a distance, they settle down and evidently forget why they were swimming so fast. If this happens immediately put the trolling motor up and approach them with the pushpole again. I have followed schools for literally miles in this manner, and while sometimes it simply wastes time and effort, it pays off frequently enough that I try it every single time the opportunity arises.
