One moment, we were staring at a palette of tranquil blue-green water. Then, in an instant the water started to come alive. It began as nervous dimples appeared on the surface, followed by swirls. It was a sign of life but still awful quiet for the onset of a blitz. That was the scene before a huge bubble appeared in the center, like there was a balloon forcing this perfect circle of water to the surface sending the nearby baitfish into panic mode as they scattered all over the surface in a hell for leather escape. The bubble burst as a large pogie with a wounded gill plate broke the surface.
We stood there, mouths agape, as the head of a huge striper surfaced right behind it. The pogie reached the apex of its jump then fell into the gaping jaws of the hungry striper. No words were necessary as we watched that striper in the 30-pound class crash beneath the surface with it favorite baitfish in its mouth. My mate scrambled for his rod with the snagging hook attached and began casting into the school, trying to snag a pogie to live-line to entice whatever other stripers might have been feeding under the school.
That effort drew a zero as far as strikes were concerned, as the bait and bass appeared to evaporate after the initial capture, at which time the water returned to its calm, lifeless state.
I was about to steer for the opposite shore when a flash of white caught my eye. Off in the distance, about a mile away, I turned to see birds diving on bait. I knew all too well that blasting out after them could result in arriving at a location those harried baitfish and predators had already evacuated. We watched for a minute and noticed the action was slowly moving in a northerly direction that would eventually take them into a cove on the far shore.
Although I knew better, I had a man on board who desperately wanted to catch a bonito or an albie, so I turned and headed for a location that I hoped to arrive at before the school got there. The fish gods were smiling that morning as I set up in the path of the harried mass of bait, predators, and birds. I can understand why novice fishermen, and not just a few “experienced” anglers become unglued when they are in the midst of or chasing a noisy melee of breaking fish and screeching birds. I’ve had some old hands who became so excited at that sight that they forgot to open their bail before they cast, snapping off an expensive piece of wood or metal jig into the abyss of Davy Jones' locker.
Although the bonito begin to arrive first in mid-July, they are followed by the albies (false albacore) that are often accompanied by Spanish and Chub mackerel and this season some King mackerel have arrived with them.
As our waters warm, more species of primarily southern fish have migrated further north with them. That morning there were stripers working pogies and the funny fish working fine bait in the form of silversides and peanut bunker. I snapped a tiny metal spoon with a shiny silver finish on one of my light tackle rods and handed it to my friend, cautioning him to cast to the edge of the school and not in the middle and risk the chance of spooking them. He made a perfect cast and before he could engage, the bail line was slipping from the reel, as a hungry predator had swallowed the lure upon entry.
He was excited, perhaps a little too much so, as he began a mantra of, “I hope I don’t lose it; I hope I don’t lose it.”
I chastised him and told him to keep the rod up and maintain pressure on the fish as I angled the boat towards it to keep it abeam and not allow it to run under the hull or motor. We finally had the fish alongside and I slipped the big Frabil net under the first ever funny fish (bonito) my friend had ever caught. He kneeled over the flopping fish, undeterred as the wounded fish began spewing blood from a cut on the gills. I reminded him the school was back within range, but that pronouncement fell on deaf ears. He had his first funny fish and was not going to rest until I bled it and put it on ice in the big Igloo cooler.
We had four or five more encounters with the bonito that morning, all resulting in immediate hookups as our silver jigs almost perfectly matched the color and size of the baitfish. With five bonito in the four- to five-pound class on ice, we left those fish and continued our search for the striper I promised a friend for his weekend outdoor grilling.
After trolling over three usually productive pieces of striper habitat, a 32-inch striper ate my tube and worm outfit and joined the funny fish in the cooler.
As the sun rose higher, more boats joined the fray and it became difficult to fish a location without having nearby boats descend on us as soon as we bent a rod.
I headed toward the harbor to grab an unoccupied mooring line where I would clean the catch. Those dark purple loins of the bonito came off easily and were washed in clean ocean water before being slipped into Ziploc bags and put on ice in the food and drink cooler. I am not a big fan of tuna, either bluefin or yellowfin, but if someone takes the time to prepare it carefully I will dig in and enjoy it. The tender loins of bonito are excellent when grilled in olive oil, onions and seasoning. Although I had been catching bonito for years before I ever tasted one, I had my first meal of bonito steaks aboard the Poppy, a 38-foot sword fisherman moored at Sakonnet. I caught one trolling a line off the stern while we scanned the ocean 20 miles south of Nomans Island. Steve, the Captain, bled, gutted and then cut it into steaks which he fried in olive oil with nothing more than salt and pepper to taste and it was delicious.
Being 40 miles offshore and starving probably had something to do with my appetite for these beautiful and hard-fighting fish. I will admit that if we had been ashore I would not have devoured those two steaks and opted for a greasy hamburger and a plate of fries at the Fo’c’sle.
If you enjoy a challenge and a tussle with hard-fighting fish, this is the time to direct your attention to the funny fish gorging on baitfish from Westport Harbor to Brenton Point off Newport.
Arm yourself with a light casting outfit and as many different size and colored jigs and spoons to attract them. Just remember to refresh your memory on the difference between a tasty bonito and the usually much larger false albacore, which are a very bloody fish and seldom kept for the table.
Please remember to be courteous and respectful of others. When someone is working a school, don’t barge in and sound them. Keep your distance or, better yet, go find a school of your own.
It's Labor Day, one of my favorite holidays that has snuck up on us yet again. In less than eight weeks we might be scraping frost off our windshields so act now or forever hold your casts.
The Link LonkSeptember 06, 2020 at 05:09PM
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Outdoors: Chasing the funny fish - Fall River Herald News
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Funny
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