My yellow lab, Annie, and I were in the hot water discharge canal on Lake Bastrop on Monday. Bass were splashing in all directions as they devoured tiny shad baitfish. Annie was going crazy, barking like a watch dog at the swirling bass. She jumped overboard three times in an attempt to catch one. After putting a five-bass-under-14-inch-limit in the icebox, we moved to another area. I could have caught more bass, most in the protected slot of 14 to 21 inches, but I wanted to do something different with my fly rod.
Annie finally settled down when she no longer saw schooling fish on the surface. Things got much more peaceful. I tied on a white bass popper and began to fish against shallow reeds along the shore. It didn’t take long for a bass to eat my popper. Then another one. And another. When a fish swirled under the popper I expected another bass. I laid the popper back into the same shallow spot that was surrounded with vegetation and stickups. This time the fish slowly rose to a position right under the popper. I identified the fish immediately. It was a Rio Grande cichlid, the only cichlid species native to the United States. I knew not to make a big splash with the popper. Cichlids actually take small streamer flies better than poppers. So I just barely moved the popper as the fish followed. I was just beginning to think that the fish was not going to eat the popper when he suddenly opened his mouth and sucked in the popper. I set the hook when I knew the popper was in his mouth. Sight fishing is so much fun. To watch the cichlid slowly and deliberately stalk the bait was a thrill.
My Rio Grande cichlid, also called the Texas cichlid, was a good one. He weighed a little under a pound, one ounce less than the lake fly rod record held by Jamie Meaux. Jamie also holds the fly rod record on the Guadalupe River with a .85-pound cichlid.
