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CommentsShoreline Snook
NOVEMBER IS A GOOD MONTH to fish the shorelines in South Florida. The temperature is pleasant, the lack of rain most days pushes the salt water into the backcountry, increasing the salinity levels, which the snook love; and even if it’s cloudy and windy, you can still fish the mangrove shorelines for Mr. Robalo (Spanish, of course, for snook).
One particular day, I remember that low visibility from clouds and an occasional shower had made it hard to see the Sea-Ducer streamer I was using, and all we had to show for a day’s casting workout against the shoreline was a couple of small snook. Instead of leaving by late afternoon, as we should have, my friend and I decided that I should switch the Sea-Ducer for a long, skinny pencil popper. It should be a good “dinner bell” in this low evening light, I said; what I really should have said was: Let’s go home.
The wind was blowing against the shoreline and it was hard to keep the boat in position, but at least the popper was easy to see on the water’s surface. Finally, we came to a long narrow slough, the thick mangroves on each side intertwined at the top, leaving only shadows inside. I cast a tight loop back into the shadows. I could not see the popper as I retrieved it, but we had no problem hearing the loud smack from a big snook as he took my offering.
The low water level at the time forced the snook to come out of the slough and into the open, but he quickly headed for a large fallen black mangrove only a few yards away and soon had me wrapped on one of the small branches. Fortunately, we were able to break the dead branch off and set him free. Then he made the mistake of dashing for open water. We had him. After a few minutes of fight, with the snook and the skiff about 100 feet from the shoreline, it was over.
After a warm congratulations, my friend dropped the pushpole and looked for the net; but the net turned out to be too small, so he looked for the gaff so he could insert it in the fish’s mouth for a photo. That was a good plan, only during all this time the boat had been drifting back to the mangroves. Mr. Robalo was quick to realize we had not secured the boat. And like Br’er Rabbit among the thorns, this snook had lived all his life among that thick cover. He was history. It was a cold, windy, wet ride home.
After a lifetime of fly-fishing for snook, I should have known better. This idiosyncratic, unpredictable fish has given me more frustrating days and yet more delightful moments than any other fish I have fly-fished for—and I confess, he is my favorite.
You can find snook in a great many environments suitable for fly-fishing—from pure fresh water way up a river as they feed on frogs at night, to cruising the beaches in 100 percent salt water, looking for mullet or glass minnows. But the mangrove coastlines with rivers or creeks that create plenty of brackish water are the habitat that snook most prefer. And it’s pure delight to fish these areas because you are either casting tight to a mangrove shoreline, or you are sight-casting for the fish as they show themselves on the lower stages of the tide.
The problem with finding snook among a mangrove shoreline is that it all looks good and fishy, but most of it is not. You have to pick your spots. This brackish-water world is unpredictable because many factors influence the environment. The many small keys, islands, flats and channels add great complexity to the tide movement. And wind, too, can speed up or slow down the tides. Rainfall, or the lack of it, constantly changes the salinity levels. And temperature in this vast area of shallow waters highly influences both bait and snook movement. Still, there are ways to narrow down which shorelines are more likely to have snook, and at what times.
where: While I prefer to fish snook in Florida in the late fall to mid-spring, the truth is that there is good snook fishing year-round. Just not along the same shorelines. During the warm rainy season, the backwaters get too sweet (fresh), salinity moves farther out to the outside areas and mouth of creeks and rivers, and so do the baitfish and the snook. So these are mostly the shorelines I fish then.
But during the cooler dry season, the saltwater intrusion goes way into the backcountry (areas like Florida Bay and Flamingo, outside the Everglades), and then this is the place to work mangrove shorelines.
Also, when the air temperature gets way down into the 60s and below, if a snook is hiding along the shallow-water shorelines, he most likely is sitting on a dark bottom, where the water temperature stays the warmest. Keep that one in mind.
tides: A rising or falling tide not only controls the shoreline’s depth, but also the location of baitfish in the mangroves and the direction the baitfish will move along the mangroves.
On a high tide, most mangrove shorelines are covered with water, and most baitfish are deep inside the mangrove roots, hiding from gamefish, birds and other predators. This is usually not a good time to be fishing that area. But, eventually, the receding tide forces the bait to deeper water, attracting all kinds of predators, including snook. And it’s this mid to low outgoing tide that is the classic time to be fishing the mangroves.
The bait tend to move in the direction of least resistance, with the tide. And the snook will follow them as they feed. This bonanza can occur
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