There are many "might have been" fishing stories floating around and, perhaps, Joyce Thompson's is one of the more poignant.
It was 4:00 a.m. on an Easter morning when Joyce was fishing with her roofer husband from shore, south of the Holiday Inn at Apollo Beach on Tampa Bay, "for anything that would bite."
Using one-half of a frozen shrimp for bait, Joyce made a cast, put her rod down, and got a cup of hot coffee to ward off an early morning chill.
After leaving her rod unattended, a giant snook grabbed her offering and dragged the rod across the sand and into the water.
"My husband raced after the rod and caught up to it just as it was about to disappear," Joyce recounted.
"He then handed the rod to me and the fight was on."
She said that she attempted to give the rod up to her husband several times during an hour-long dispute but to no avail.
It was a tiring struggle for both the fish and fisherlady which frequently saw Joyce up to her waist in water before she ultimately was able to beach the prize.
Although no length or girth measurements were taken of the trophy, the couple did weigh it on the scales at the Apollo Beach Bait House where, she said, the needle stopped at 52 pounds!
"I don't remember if there were any ounces on top of that," she said.
"Frankly, I wasn't even thinking of records when we took the fish home," she continued, "after all, what did we know about snook?"
At the time, the International Game Fish Association's all-tackle record was a 52-pound, six-ounce linesider taken at LaPaz, Mexico, on January 9, 1963, by Jane Haywood.
Even if a certified scale wouldn't have squeezed an additional six ounces out of the fish, Joyce certainly would have qualified in an IGFA line-class category since she was using 15-pound-test mono on a South Bend spinning reel and an $18 Garcia fishing rod.
By today's standard, Joyce's fish would have been placed in the 16-pound line class category where the men's record is 34 pounds, eight ounces, and the current women's 16-pound snook mark is an even 30 pounds.
After storing her fish in a deep freezer, Joyce asked a neighbor if a 52-pound snook could be considered a good one.
"He told me that the record for snook was over 200 pounds and that a 50-pounder was rather common in Florida waters."
Obviously, her neighbor was thinking of tarpon. It's doubtful that Joyce Thompson (or few others for that matter) will ever again have a crack at such a fish.
You might wonder at this point what eventually happened to this potential all-tackle world record.
"What do you think? We ate it!" she lamented.
Undoubtedly, the fish that Joyce caught was the common snook, or Centropomus undecimalis, which has a maxillary that extends past the center of the eye and pelvic fins that do not extend to the anus.
However, there are three other snook species found in Florida waters including the Tarpon Snook (Centropomus pectinatus), Swordspine Snook (Centropomus ensiferus), and Little Snook (Centropomus parallelus).
The Tarpon Snook seldom grows to more than 20 inches and its maxillary bone does not extend past the center of the eye and the pelvic fins extend to or past the anus.
Swordspine Snook probably don't grow much past 12 inches in length and is distinguished by a maxillary that does not extend past the center of the eye, pelvic fins that extend to or past the anus, pectoral fins that extend to or past the pelvic fins, and a second anal spine that extends to or past the caudal-fin base.
A Little Snook, as its name implies, seldom grows larger than 25 inches and its maxillary extends to or past the center of the eye while its pelvic fins extend to or past the anus.
Found from Florida south to Brazil, and from Lower California to Peru, the snook is a coastal inhabitant and frequents only tropical or subtropical waters.
For all practical purposes, the Tampa Bay area on Florida's west coast and Sebastian Inlet or Cape Canaveral on the Atlantic coast is its northernmost range limit, even though a few have been taken in the Homosassa and Crystal rivers in the Gulf, or Daytona and New Smyrna on the east coast after mild winters.
Distinguished by its torpedo-shaped body, a lower jaw that protrudes, and a prominent black lateral line that runs from the top of its gill cover through its tail on both sides of its body, the snook's back can be brown, golden brown, olive green, dark gray, black, or dark green depending upon the season and habitat. Its belly and flanks are silvery.
Although it's difficult to mistake a snook for anything else that swims, it can be done.
I'm reminded of an enthusiastic couple who pulled into Stanford Resort on Englewood Beach at about noon one day back in the early 1970s. Seems they had been reading hair-raising stories written by outdoor writer types telling of the spectacular fighting qualities of the magnificent snook and were determined to catch one.
"We want a snook," they told then owner Bob Hall who registered them in, rented them a boat, dipped some shrimp from the bait tank, and suggested they go to nearby Stump Pass where activity had been fabulous for the past week.
So anxious was this couple to get started, they didn't bother to even place their luggage in a room they had rented. About an hour later the excited couple returned to Stanford Resort in an arm-waving panic.
"We did what you told us to do," said the lady, "and a big fish grabbed my shrimp.
"We fought for a long time and when we got it alongside the boat it was so mean looking that my husband cut the line!"
"What did it look like?" asked Hall.
"It was real long and slender, had this vicious-looking mouth, a wild look in its eye, and had a long black stripe down the side of his body," she replied.
"That was a snook. That's what you came down here to catch," said Bob, trying to suppress a smile.
The stunned couple then quietly walked off to their room.
In about 15 minutes, a subdued husband returned to the office to check out.
"My wife is so mad at me for cutting her fish loose," he said, "that she wants to go home."
Bob tore up their registration card.
"I didn't have the heart to charge them for a room they never used."
Like many other saltwater game fish, snook bite better on a moving tide when bait is swept along in a flow. In most pass and backcountry situations, an outgoing seems to be more productive than an incoming.
There's very little that a linesider won't eat.
The late Capt. Andy McLean at Chokoloskee had a few "aces in the hole" he played when the quarry seemed to have lockjaw.
One in particular never seemed to fail.
He'd simply anchor near a backcountry pass, toss out a mullet head on a 6/0 hook and let it lay on the bottom in a hole created by a tidal flow. It usually didn't take long before a snook stumbled onto the offering and hauled buggy.
On occasion, a large shark or a tarpon would beat the target to a mullet head, but, usually, he could put a client onto a snook in this manner as a last resort.
One trip that I particularly remember was when Tampa's Charlie Cleveland and I spent three days with Capt. Andy in the Ten Thousand Islands. For two days we cast plugs at mangroves without success. During the afternoon of our second day, Cleveland did connect with a 75-pound tarpon while slow-trolling a silver spoon. But, no linesiders for photographs.
"Are you sure there's any snook around here?" I asked.
Finally, in desperation on the third day, Capt. Andy anchored at a hole somewhere in the Everglades.
"There's plenty of snook and I'm going to prove to you guys that I'm not a liar," the guide exclaimed.
"Since they're hot hitting lures, I'm going to play my trump card. What many people don't realize is that snook are scavengers," he emphasized.
With that he handed us some 20-pound tackle and baited No. 6 hooks with ladyfish and mullet heads.
Hardly had our free-spooled and non-weighted baits touch bottom when both Charlie and I had takers.
"Let 'em run a little before you set the hook," Capt. Andy advised.
Cleveland and I struck our fish at the same instant. I had neglected to tie on a section of leader material and the fish cut through my line with its gill covers. Charlie's fish ripped off 100 feet of line before jumping. It was a big 'un too. Easily on the plus side of 25 pounds!
"Hang on to him," I yelled, reaching for a camera.
At this point the fish turned toward the mangrove-lined shore where a solid ridge of rocks could be seen beneath the surface.
"If he makes the rocks," Capt. Andy said, "you'll lose him."
"There's nothing I can do about it," Cleveland answered, thumbing down on his reel.
Sure enough, it got to the rocks and, as the skipper predicted, got away. It went like that for the rest of the day and I began to appreciate how the Tampa Bay Bucs must feel every Sunday during the football season.
No matter what we did, we lost.
We hooked 15 snook that would weigh between 15 and 25 pounds each--all in the same hole--and blew every opportunity.
It wasn't that either of us was doing anything wrong. Things...bad things...just happened. One snook would throw the bait, one would cut our line with its gill covers, another would zip through rocks or into mangroves.
It got so embarrassing that we'd flip a coin to see which of us would handle the next snook run. The loser had to take the rod.
"If Larry were here we'd have a dandy parody of the Three Stooges," Capt. Andy mused while puffing on his ever-present pipe.
"I've proved that I can put you guys on snook, but if you can't put one in the boat, it's not my fault."
There's more than a grain of truth to that observation.
Although I didn't get a close-up of a linesider being landed, I did get a lifetime supply of photographs of Charlie with a bend in his rod.
Even though we had to resort to dead bait on this particular trip, there were other times when we had to use a cannon to keep them from attacking our artificials.
Once, while on a trip to Lostman's River with Jim Bagley, Shag Shahid, and Boog Powell, nothing went wrong...for a change. While pushing our way down river with an electric motor, Bagley and I came upon a tree branch which had fallen into the water.
If you were able to cast your lure into the "Y" made by the limb, you had a snook. If you missed the spot, you didn't.
We dropped anchor in the middle of the river at an angle where each of us could easily reach the magic spot with our light, eight-pound baitcasting rig and proceeded to land and release 63 snook weighing between 10 and 20 pounds each!
We couldn't miss.
While some shook buffs might favor dead bait and others rely on artificials or flies, there are many who insist that live offerings can't be beat.
Capt. Scott Moore, who bases in Cortez and Boca Grande, is in a class by himself when it comes to catching snook. His secret? Sardine minnows. Scotty, who keeps count of the snook he catches and releases each year, averages between 15 and 20 fish per day, and, in 1988, had recorded his 5,016th of that particular year on a trip in October!
In addition to knowing his waters and tides, Capt. Moore has an uncanny ability to think like a snook (he can also think like a tarpon, a redfish, a trout, and a flounder too).
He's one of the few snook guides around who will silently pole his boat into a position to cast unweighted live sardines into a particular hole on the flats or off a point. He'll use lines testing out at between four and eight pounds breaking strength on the theory that it's more difficult for the fish to detect.
Though he uses ultra-light tackle for bruisers that may scale 30 pounds or more, you can't argue with such success.
Mullet or ladyfish heads are excellent choices for those wanting to fish dead bait. In addition to sardine minnows, other fine live selections for snook include jumbo shrimp, pinfish, mullet, small crabs, or other baitfish.
Perhaps the best surface plug around for those who know how to retrieve it is the Zara Spook. A Dalton Special ain't bad either.
Bagley, Culprit, Boone, Gudebrod, Bill Lewis, L & S, Bill Norman, Cotton Cordell, Bomber, Smithwick, and Storm all make excellent crankbaits that snook often can't resist, while Cotee, Stanley, 12-Fathom, and Strike King have bottom-bumping jigs that are sure fire temptations when they are feeding on the bottom.
Flyrodders like the fish because it's sometimes cooperative with those casting small- to medium-sized streamer flies and larger popping bugs.
Most veteran anglers agree that snook feed better at night. However, they are also caught during the daylight hours with frequency. There are times (both day and night) when it will smash anything coming into range, and other instances when it'll thumb its nose at anything and everything.
During colder months, snook often can be found in deeper holes, inlets and, even, up freshwater rivers and streams where temperatures are more to their liking. They can adapt to freshwater habitats and are caught year-round at Lake Okeechobee, particularly in the Rim Canal at Moore Haven and Belle Glade, in the Faka Union River at Port of the Islands, and in the Indian River.
In early spring and late fall, we can find linesiders at the mouth of feeder creeks and rivers leading into bays, inside passes ,and around inside docks, piers, and bridges. On warmer days, they'll move out onto grass flats.
As the weather warms, snook can be located throughout the Ten Thousand Islands, in outside passes leading into the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic, in such larger fjords as Charlotte Harbor and Tampa Bay, around Gulf or Atlantic piers, and, often, off the beaches in southwest and southeast Florida.
Two rules-of-thumb: A good freshwater bass fisherman can be a good snook fisherman because the prize often covets the same type of structure and corresponding habitat; and anywhere you find tarpon, redfish, and trout in tropical or subtropical waters, you're likely to meet up with snook.
A snook has few rivals as a game fish. It's smart, cunning, powerful, fast, and often jumps when hooked. It has heart, stamina, and what can only be described as a mean temper. It usually explodes onto a bait or lure with ferocity, often makes long runs, and won't hesitate to employ its entire arsenal of dirty tricks to effect an escape.
Long protected from commercial exploitation, Florida's Department of Natural Resources and Marine Fisheries Commission deserve a pat on the back for the conservation measures it adopted in recent years.
For example, the daily bag limit was reduced from four to two, and the minimum size was upped from 18 to 24 inches. The state also embraced closed season concepts to protect the fish during its most vulnerable periods in January and February, and from June 1 through August 31.
As a result of this protection, the snook population is rebounding from stressfully low levels in the 1970s and early '80s. Biologists also seem to be making headway in its fish hatchery experiments and, hopefully, we'll soon have hatchery-raised linesiders regularly introduced into a natural environment.
Copyright (c) 1997 Herb Allen. All rights reserved.
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