Mayan cichlid caught on the fly.
September 10, 2024
By Steve Kantner
Sweltering summer weather is no problem at all for anglers seeking Florida’s ever-expanding array of fishy exotics. Most of these targets were imported initially from even hotter climes. Peacock bass, Mayan cichlids, snakeheads and more are all perfectly content with whatever late summer brings.
Where’d these now-familiar fish come from? Most—especially the many colorful members of the genus Cichlididae—are the product of unlawful and unadvisable release by aquarium enthusiasts over the years. Some, like the peacock bass, were deliberately introduced by state fisheries authorities.
One of the first freshwater exotics to gain a foothold in southern Florida, at least as far back as the 1970s, was the Oscar, that distinctive cichlid with the red-and-black eye spot. Oscar and his lookalike cousin, the Mayan cichlid, are eager “biters”—hitting an assortment of lures, worms, crickets, tiny Missouri minnows—darn near anything. Fishermen south of Lake Okeechobee soon began targeting these species along the Alligator Alley (despite growing concerns about neurotoxic methylmercury levels in fish caught in that area). Those fish are still present in big numbers, and they’ve spread out into many other waters. Same can be said for tilapia, which haven’t the same reputation as a hook-and-line fish. Tilapia have some merit as a bow-fishing target, and worldwide they’re recognized as a cheap table fish, farm-raised in many areas. (I’ve eaten farm-raised tilapia. It’s my opinion that no one short of Bocuse or Escoffier could make it taste more appetizing than a buttered block of insulation.)
Butterfly peacock bass caught in a Broward County canal on a hot September afternoon. Peacock bass, also a cichlid, were deliberately introduced to South Florida waters in the early 1980s to control the expansion of invasive fish. There was concern that Oscars and other cichlids would out-compete native bass and panfish for forage and spawning areas. Aggressive peacocks, which prey on other cichlids, were thought to be a useful control.
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A special Non-Native Laboratory was established in Boca Raton, on the grounds of Florida Atlantic University, under the guidance of fisheries biologist Paul Shafland. Shafland bred several generations of peacock bass fingerlings from eggs he’d acquired from several South American countries. By 1984, he was ready to release this cichlid super-predator into the C-4 and C-100 canals in Miami-Dade County. The butterfly peacock species took off.
Today, peacock bass are self-sustaining. Peacocks spawn from April through September—reaching a peak in May and June, at which time the males frequently develop a signature “nuchal” hump on their foreheads. Both parents take turns guarding the eggs.Peacocks are famed among anglers as highly visible targets and eager strikers. Peacocks prefer a hot overhead sun—especially after a thunderstorm. Deep-running plugs (Rapala Husky Jerk and X-Rap ) or chartreuse Clouser Minnows seldom fail to get the job done. One tip: Choose the clear side of any current streaming from a culvert.
Jaguar guapote. The Midas cichlid hails from Costa Rica. This mid-sized, brilliantly-colored show-off becomes more active immediately after the peacocks spawn. Anglers find that “King Midas” responds best at that time to tiny chartreuse grubs, or flies tied from chartreuse chenille topped by a spinner blade.
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Grass carp, or Amur, are deliberately stocked under state supervision in an effort to curb invasive aquatic vegetation. Mostly they’re of little interest to anglers, with the exception of certain canals where amur rise to the floating fruits of bank-side ficus trees. These fruits mature during the spring and fall, only to drop to the water—and into the mouths of hungry amur. Fly fishermen who “match the hatch” with berry flies enjoy some memorable interactions with the big amur.
Small, flashy plugs and flies like these are just the ticket for peacock bass, cichlids and guapote. Other patterns (not shown) are best for snakehead (frog lures) and grass carp (berry fly). Fred Ade, my long-time friend from Sunshine Ranches, fishes the C-11 whenever possible. Of grass carp, he says, “Forget weighing these fish. I no longer stress them by removing them from the water.” Instead, Fred now ties his berry imitation flies on light-wire No. 6 barbless hooks, which he frees from a beaten carp by gently placing his fly rod (an older, battered model) next to the fish’s lip, and with a gentle push, painlessly unhooking it. In his words, “More carp escape uninjured than do my fly rods.”
The bullseye snakehead, a very aggressive carnivore, first appeared in western Broward and enjoyed its finest hour in the C-14 canal—alongside McNab Rd, west of Powerline, and throughout the adjunctive waterways. Early fears that snakeheads would wipe out other fish proved unfounded. Today, Ol’ Snake- Eyes shares an agreeable détente’ with peacocks, largemouth bass, Amurs, and lesser cichlids.
A tip for the committed snakehead seeker, as he approaches productive water? Walk quickly forward while launching three long casts in the direction you’re moving: one to the middle and one to each side. Reel a paddle-tail black frog rapidly across the surface. If one misses on the first grab, snakeheads are seldom repeaters.
Peacock bass are sometimes spotted on beds close to shore during the summer months. Snakeheads, like lungfish, breathe in atmospheric oxygen. Whenever they roll, they produce an effusion of bubbles that resembles a popping champagne cork. See where one repeatedly “pops?” Mark that spot for future reference.
Among South Florida’s certified odd-balls, you’ll find the clown knifefish. Confined primarily to Palm Beach County in Lake Ida, near Interstate 95, knifefish—which are caught mainly by trolling live threadfin shad—occasional strike streamer flies or plugs.
Among the latest arrivals? The jaguar guapote, a garish grouper look-alike with an appetite for anything that moves. Small wet flies, streamers, occasional poppers. Jaguars, particularly sensitive to cold, are most common south of West Palm Beach.
This article was featured in the August-September 2024 issue of Florida Sportsman. Click to subscribe .
