Jack of all trades
Crevalle jack do things other fish can't, such as eating in cold weather and pulling line at an unbelievable rate.
By TERRY TOMALIN
Published March 11, 2005
TAMPA - When yet another in a seemingly endless series of cold fronts barreled out of the north, guide Chuck Rogers wondered if and when he was going catch fish again.
"When it blows like this, the fish scatter," he said. "It may take some time to find them."
Rogers, a charter captain who owns and operates Tampa's Rattlesnake Point Outfitters, knows how hard it is to plan a fishing trip during the transition from winter to spring.
Twice he had excursions scheduled, and twice the trips were canceled because of high winds and heavy seas. Finally, after more than a month's delay, Rogers decided to go for it.
"We can keep putting it off and wait until April," he said. "Or we can go out and give it a shot."
Too many days behind a desk had given me office fever. I longed to hear the drag sing and fight a fish until my forearms ached.
"I don't care how hard it is blowing," I told Rogers. "Let's go for it."
The inshore action had been spotty at best. The redfish bite had been strong at times and spotted sea trout were available, but to be successful I knew everything had to fall into place. With deadlines piling up, I couldn't afford to leave my angling fix to such fickle fish.
"We'll just go catch some jacks," Rogers said. "They will give you a workout."
The lowly crevalle jack, also called jack crevalle, is edible but not prized as table fare. Still, this member of the carangid family is a voracious feeder and hits just about anything thrown its way.
Jacks, as they are commonly called by inshore anglers, are battlers. A small crevalle, with its body turned sideways, can pull every bit as hard as a big snook or redfish. Their deep-water cousins, the greater amberjack (commonly called jacks by offshore anglers), also have a reputation as fighters.
While the crevalle jack is known locally as an estuarine species, large schools are sometimes encountered on nearshore artificial reefs and occasionally in deep water offshore. The species has a high tolerance for water with low salinity, and jacks are often found at river mouths. Another favorite haunt is the warm outflows of power plants.
For several weeks Rogers had kept tabs on a big school of jacks around Tampa Electric's Big Bend Power Station at Apollo Beach. On this Tuesday morning about two dozen anglers had gathered at a nearby beach to cast to fish prowling the grass flats near the canal.
I watched as one fisherman's rod bent as he ran along the shoreline in a vain attempt to control the hooked crevalle.
"The big ones have to be around here somewhere," Rogers said, scanning the water from the tower on his boat. "There they are, moving this way."
Jacks school for protection and as part of an organized feeding behavior. Biologists have observed the species herding baitfish against structures such as sea walls, where the prey is forced to ball up, easy pickings for ravenous predators.
Rogers watched the school move our way and tossed a couple of baits into the fishes' paths. His efforts were rewarded with a double hookup, not uncommon when crevalle jacks are in feeding mode.
"Wow, I thought this fish was a lot bigger," I told Rogers after I landed a small one. "It seemed like a 20-pounder by the way it fought."
That is often the case with jacks. Pound for pound, crevalle jack fight as hard as any fish in the ocean. Once, in Miami, I made the mistake of casting an artificial fly to a school of jacks in Government Cut, and an hour later I was still fighting the doormat-sized fish, much to the merriment of my charter captain.
Those big bruisers can make or break a charter trip. Tie an angler into one, and he will talk about it for a lifetime. That is what Rogers wanted, a fish worth remembering.
Six fish later he decided to leave the power plant in search of the big boys on the flats. After 20 minutes of looking, Rogers spotted the telltale wake of a school moving through shallow water.
"That is what we want," he said, pointing ahead of the boat. "Cast over there."
I tossed a baitfish into the school and seconds later felt the thump of an oversized crevalle jack.
I let the fish run for a moment, tiring itself. Then my cell phone rang, a call about a story.
"Listen to this," I said holding the phone next to the fishing reel. "Can you identify that sound?"
"That is the sound of a drag screaming," the caller correctly answered.