Love ‘em or Hate ‘em: The Bluefish Dilemma - The Fisherman

Love ‘em or Hate ‘em: The Bluefish Dilemma

Cyclical by nature, the bluefish population has seen its ups and downs over the years and we appear to be in the midst of a downswing.

The author’s grandson Lleyton caught his first blues on Tsunami Talkin’ poppers
The author’s grandson Lleyton caught his first blues on Tsunami Talkin’ poppers and was more than impressed with their topwater antics, power, speed and their ability to create slack and spit the lure right back at him. He also became aware that their eyesight is such that they are looking at you and if you move your hand towards them to grasp the plug they will jump up and attempt to sever your fingers.

“These ‘bleeping’ blues are killing us. I just had two $80 squid bars shredded and ran two miles to get away from them. We put out some rigged baits and in less than 500 yards we were hooked up to a pair of alligator blues.” That skipper was 54 miles outside me and hiding from blues while during the past three days all I could find was a single 3-pound chopper while working productive casting water along the craggy Newport, RI shoreline. My recollections over decades of fishing is that bluefish have always been spotty. There were seasons when they could be found prowling every piece of prime habitat, and then the next day you couldn’t find a single yellow eye within miles.

Although this is strictly anecdotal, I have always been aware of blues frequenting the offshore waters. That information came from harpoon sword fishermen and lobstermen who caught them then used their solid heads, which are prime lobster bait. When the tuna fishing moved closer to shore we heard complaints from the people who made those trips griping about the blues being on the grounds and tearing up their tackle. Bluefish on the offshore grounds is not a new phenomenon, but I don’t believe that is the reason there are fewer blues inshore today.

If you want something to think about just read the stories about Liberty and Freedom, the two stripers that were fitted with archival satellite tags in the Northeast Striped Bass Tag Study run by the team from Gray FishTag, The Fisherman Magazine and Navionics in New York harbor last year. Both those fish didn’t head east along the shore towards New England, they headed offshore to the canyons. Those two post-spawn stripers left their native habitat where they were the major predators and headed to an environment where they became the prey.

The fishermen of my generation have enjoyed a love-hate relationship with the bluefish from the days of their first forays to our grounds, to their amazing population explosion, and up to their near desertion this past season. At first they were most welcome, but when they began to destroy lures and live baits they began to provoke the ire of those who at first welcomed them with open arms. My 17-year-old grandson Lleyton never slipped and fell in pre-dawn herring runs trying to capture a few live baits to feed a striper, then after all that effort, had a bluefish slash in and cut that precious bait in half.

He cut his teeth on stripers, the fish he loved to temp with his topwater poppers. They would crash the plug, create a surface explosion then dive and fight it out below in their difficult and edgy habitat. His first bluefish was quite an extraordinary, yet delightful surprise. That chopper did not follow or boil behind his popper. It came up from behind like a missile, leaped out of the water and came down, mouth open, seizing his plug while producing that unique sound of the crunching of teeth on plastic. His reactionary set infuriated the fish that took to the air, tail walking and head shaking. Cranking for all he was worth as the yellow-eyed demon charged the boat he turned to me smiling from ear to ear. The look on his face said, “What the heck is going on here?’ He had heard his dad and I discuss the topwater action, but there was nothing like that firsthand experience.

Unfortunately that bluefish never came aboard. It charged the boat, dove under the hull and tried to turn towards the engine. The boy instinctively drove his rod beneath the surface foiling the blue’s run towards the lower unit which avoided a cut off. Unfortunately his first bluefish, about an 8-pound specimen, ran off turned back again and spit the lure back at us like a slingshot. Lleyton looked at me, with a wry grin and said, “Wow. That seemed personal.”

Two casts later a blue marauder of the same year class inhaled the rear half of the big Tsunami Talkin’ popper and put on a similar display. The boy was up to the task, and after another vigorous battle the fish was brought alongside where we noticed that only the snap and head of the plug were protruding from the choppers dentures. The water was streaked with blood as the rear hook was lodged in the gills indicating this fish was destined for the smoker.

Blues, particularly larger unrestrained specimens
Blues, particularly larger unrestrained specimens come aboard and begin to wreak havoc by flinging their heads and smashing hooks into anything they encounter. The author did not have time to jump atop the motor box before an alligator stuck this big swimmer into his boot.

That hazy morning when my grandson was introduced to blues evoked fond recollections of similar introductions to blues for his dad and his uncle. The difference was the youngster was using much-improved tackle. The love-hate relationship with blues goes back to an era well before most of our readers were born or even fishing. When the little blues first arrived on our shores in the early 1960s they were welcomed with open arms. Just imagine the contrast between catching a 10-pound striper versus a 10-pound blue and you will understand the excitement of adding another gladiator that was more than willing to crush an artificial lure and give you all you and your tackle could handle and usually quite a bit more.

The same anglers who welcomed blues with open arms soon transitioned into bluefish detractors when the eel, herring or pogie they were live lining for stripers were docked by the yellow-eyed hacking machines. A few years later, one of the blues most ardent detractors called me and asked where he might find some blues. He had freshwater fishing relatives visiting from a Midwestern state and wanted to show them what a “real fish’ fought like. How things change and yet remain the same! Anyone who thinks bluefish are a sure bet to attack at all times has not put their time on the water when blues are languid, binged out, selective or just plain temperamental. I never take a bluefish bite for granted and have used numerous methods to make them strike my lure when they just trail and buzz others casting similar lures from my boat. Back in the days before commercial scent was available in bottles and sprays we made our own scent with herring and pogies, even a single pogie provides enough oil and gurry to make a persuasive attractant that will last an entire trip.

Anyone serious about catching blues, which includes anglers like me who enjoy smoked bluefish and the pâté we make from our catches, hold various opinions. Sorted out it comes down to several factors. First off, there is nothing quite like the attack of a bluefish on a surface bait. I remove the rear treble from all of the lures I intend to toss at blues; they are kept in a separate Plano box ready to deploy. I attach a heavy split ring and a 5/0 wide gap live bait bucktail hook to the business end of all of those plugs. The single hook ensures solid hook-ups and removing the belly treble will save you time and effort, not to mention enhancing the protection of your person and the bluefish you may intend to release.

The author modifies certain plugs
The author modifies certain plugs exclusively for bluefish by removing the rear treble and replacing it with a strong split ring attached to a single hook bucktail that he treats with scent. The belly hook is removed to avoid damage to the fish and the angler in the unhooking process.

When we were running big plugs on wire at Cuttyhunk we carried a priest; a short, heavy bat with which to stun the fish so we could get the hooks out without having one wielded at us by a green bass or wild-eyed bluefish that came free of the gaff. I recall jumping onto the motor box to avoid having a sharp treble stuck in my foot as an alligator thrashed around the cockpit until it finally buried a hook into the oak corner board on the motor box. I’ve always been aware that bluefish have never received the respect they are due, unless they were in short supply. While I’ve clubbed, cursed, and ground them for chum. I’ve also bled, filleted and served them to appreciative family members and unsuspecting guests who thought they were tasty.

I hope the current guidelines to protect and enhance the status of these pugnacious gamefish helps in their recovery, but all the guidelines in the world do not take into consideration the extraordinary role that nature plays. These nomads do not spawn in known rivers or bays but out in the open ocean where the miracle of their procreation is cast to the wind and tides that carry the precious seed of their future to the inland waters where they sustain and develop the precious resource that miraculously becomes our bluefish. I urge you to be grateful for every single bluefish you encounter. They are a gift of the immeasurable wonders of nature.

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