It’s a simple risk and reward gamble, all you’re risking is being a laughingstock – choosing a cold and blustery pre-dawn emergence over the sanctity of warm blankets.

“Fishless” fishing trips and me go way back, there’s no fear of censure and if I’m quiet enough I can even have the gear stowed before the rest of the crowd wakes up. On rare occasion a mixture of karmic debt and suffering means your number comes up and the reward outweighs all else.

It doesn’t happen that way often, but when it does you have to approach it like a veteran; no unnecessary false casting, keep your fingers warm so you can feel the running line, cast between gusts so you don’t take a fly in the cheek, and how long can you stand in waist deep water without a bathroom break.

Shad fishing is a social sport, someone catches one and everyone moves closer, and if you keep catching you’ll have a line of close friends looking to share your good fortune and your flies.

The “Meat Bucket” is usually only 2-3 anglers long, it’s a hole or depression that have the Shad stacked in like cord wood. In the old days neoprene waders allowed you to stay long enough to get near the fish, guys would gradually rotate out to warm up or use the bushes.

Shad aren’t known for gentleness, they’re a fast moving agile swimmer and the fly is stopped abruptly. The small males (1-2lbs) will often come to the surface, and the big hens (3-5lbs) will usually scream off with you attempting to get your fingers out of the path of a lot of fast moving Frog Hair.

It’s actually a lot of fun, especially when the guys around you are observant and skillful, you can pack quite a few anglers into a small space, and as long as your cast lands downstream of the fellow above you there’s no tangles.

This morning was payback for the last four weekends of fruitless casting, no fishermen to share the hole with – allowing me to cast and move with impunity. Knowing the general area of the hole allows you to zero in fairly quickly, once you start getting slammed, stop.

I got slammed a lot this morning, I kept the insane giggles muffled as I was alert to invaders, but no one came. It was just me, the Peppermint Kestrel, and a hole full of hungry fast movers.

I lost plenty of fish as Shad have paper thin mouths (see illustration), and it doesn’t matter how gentle you are a traditional “corner jaw” hookup will come loose every time. It’s unique to these fish – there’s no need to check your hook, just start swearing and keep casting.

Pink is the “hot color” for this year, and I always keep a couple dozen of the proven colors as a change up. It’s an odd phenomenon, and the only form of “selectivity” that seems constant. Shad feed on plankton and their ever-changing color obsession is not to be questioned, make sure you have plenty of choices and try them all.

The “Kestrel” is tied of “Aurora” Angelina fibers, with a ball of “Cotton Candy” two-thirds of the way up the shank. I Velcro the fibers to pull them off the thread and act as hackle. I lost a dozen of them in today’s obscene display, so I’ll be busy tonight making plenty more. Angelina doesn’t take a pounding too well – 15 or so fish and there won’t be many fibers left.

For those counting, I made it six and a half hours – then danced to the shoreline in a desperate race against time. I’m sure the folks living in the homes across the river were not amused, but modesty is overrated, especially after being kissed on both cheeks by good fortune.

Technorati Tags: American Shad, Peppermint Kestrel, Pink, American River, fly fishing