There are millions of seductive spots to cast a #8 popping bug if you’re a fly caster on the St. Johns River. Branches stick out over the water, and half-fallen trees lean out, calling out for a caster to get a fly under them, back against the bank in those “pockets.” The river’s no place for a beginner. It takes experience to snatch and jerk flies loose from the bushes without snapping your fly rod. You’ve got to know when to pull hard enough to bust a fly off and tie on another one. It helps if you tie your own. I keep my fly box open on the seat.
After countless hours of fishing, I could have put my entire catch in my pants pockets. Finally, it came to me like a bolt out of the blue, wise old angler that I am: Dave, you don’t know what you’re doing. You gotta find someone to show you how to fly fish on the St. Johns. You’re adrift and dumb.
Enter a guide named Denny Tittle, whose business card says Crappie and Blue Gill, I also teach fish catching tactics. I found him through Astor Bait and Tackle by way of a Federal Ocala National Forest biologist named Clay Coates. Clay was saddened by my tales of failure, and suggested that I seek professional help. I must have looked “wore out,” as they say in those parts. I had driven hundreds of miles scouting back roads for ramps and lakes, pulling my skiff, stopping only to eat weenies off the rollers at country stores.
Denny said he could show me where the bluegills are and how to catch ‘em. Yeah, I could bring my fly rod and give it a try, but he sounded doubtful (so was I) that he could show me how to catch fish on my beautiful custom-tied poppers.
After 10 minutes watching me cast, Denny said, “I didn’t think they’ll take a popper. Reminds me why I gave up fly fishing.” Then, as I kept casting, he baited up a live cricket on a size-6 Aberdeen hook, under a split shot and a small foam cork. Right behind where I’d just made a rare perfect cast to a good-looking shoreline spot, he flipped out the cricket. (He uses a 9-foot limber crappie pole with a small spinning reel carrying 10-pound braided line.) It took a while for a big bluegill to eat the cricket…about five seconds. I kept casting, not catching, while he caught at least a dozen nice ‘gills as we worked the shoreline. The man has a sense of humor, and he’s a nice guy, and he knew I was proud of my bugs. Finally, he said out loud what he’d been thinking: “They won’t come up for it. When they’re bedding in shallow water they might, but not now, not here.”
I made a change: I put on a size-6 popper. On its hook I tied about a foot of 6-lb mono. At the end I tied on a #8 fly called a Crappie Buster, a simple weighted fly with a black chenille body and four white rubber legs. It’s weighted on the rear of the hook, and the legs are tied so that they fold up when the fly sinks. If you have a twisted imagination, it resembles a dying spider or maybe a cricket. Anyway, on my first cast with the “popper/dropper” combination, I caught a nice bluegill. Denny smiled. I was having fun now!
He continued to catch five fish for every one of mine, but he was using live bait under a cork on a spinning rod and I was using a fly. Who is the slicker angler in a case like that? Fly casting a dropper rig ain’t art. It’s not like throwing a size-18 caddis imitation on the Madison River. It’s pretty clumsy casting.
I tied a dozen Crappie Busters when I got home, for poise, I think.
I didn’t have a 9 foot light-weight crappie pole, but I do now. A small reel I bought for my wife to troll Beetle Spins now holds new 10-lb braid. I bought some lead split shot and size-6 Aberdeen hooks at Astor Bait and Tackle. Crickets are $5 per hundred. They come in a sad little wire cage.
When we were saying goodbye, Denny handed me a handful of foam corks. He seemed to know I’d be needing ‘em.