On a cold, gray winter day on the Delta, we launched our boat on the incoming tide at Discovery Bay, an affluent waterfront development. Stripers migrate in and out on the tides there, searching for schools of threadfin shad. The angling had been epic the previous two weeks, with clear water, temperatures in the mid-50s, and abundant fish. We had cast massive 4/0 flashy Clousers and Seahabit-style flies that were greedily inhaled by linesides from 5 to 20-plus pounds. So here we were, ready to repeat the great fishing. Only the stage was set differently.
It had rained heavily during the previous four days, turning most of the Delta the color of mud. We could not even see our prop in the brown water. Discovery Bay is usually fishable when all else is hopeless, though. And sure enough, stripers and schools of bait appeared on our fish finder. So again we tied on those big, flashy flies.
Nothing! No grabs. We fished that way for about an hour, and then my friend, Terry, tied on a small threadfin shad pattern incorporating UV Angel Hair and white craft fur on a size 4 hook. Terry made a cast…fish on! Then another and another.
It did not make sense to me. When facing dirty water, we use big flies, bulky flies, even flies with noisy rattles. These fish wanted a little baitfish imitation. I caught nothing until I tied on a small fly near the end of the day, then I proceeded to hook up until it was time to leave. And the next day, the same thing happened: to catch fish, tie on a little fly. I landed an 18-pounder. The following week — the same.
I know those stripers were relying on their lateral lines to locate the small fly. There was no way they could see any fly moving in that mud. But I did not have to use a big fly that pushed a lot of water. Nature has equipped the striper with a marvelous fish finder along its scaly side. But why they chose to eat a small fly instead of the bigger meal, I still have no idea. That’s fishing.
—Andy Guibord
