With two fish already in the cooler, the writer releases a pompano in front of friend Ed Stout’s GoPro camera. Great for dinner but poor for the freezer, no reason to “fill a limit.”
August 08, 2025
By Jeff Weakley
A big full moon hung in the western sky over my friend’s kayak. Soundlessly, as if conjured out of some artist’s imagination, a single pelican started across the lagoon. From my perspective, the bird passed directly in front of the moon, casting it for a nanosecond into partial eclipse. It was a scene of ethereal beauty and uncommonly good timing. I stood by my own kayak, feeling the cool slush of wavelets against my ankles.
My mind’s eye turned to this little patch of sand rotating through fields of celestial gravity. The moon was checking out, the sun checking in. The compounding influence of this synchronized shift was causing the Atlantic to rise higher than normal. A spring tide, it’s called, from “springing up,” not the season. Through a nearby inlet a pulse of tide would soon bring a favorite fish of ours into far corners of the lagoon: Pompano. Today will be a good day, I thought to myself, but it may take time.
Ed Stout of Stuart, Florida, with a nice pompano taken on a soft-plastic D.O.A. Shrimp. Pompano on the Flats Out on the flats, the water was calm, clear as glass, and mostly about 3 feet deep. Too deep to spot tailing or waking fish. Near a set of stakes that indicate a tiny channel, I spotted what appeared to be a black coconut. It was the snout of a manatee, undoubtably browsing over thin fields of seagrass. Stopping well short of the half-ton mammal, I cast a shrimp lure toward the channel edge and hooked a fish. Pompano! After a few zippy runs, I slid the fish into my net and transferred it to my cooler. Pompano are never alone. I wanted at least one more for the grill.
A pulse of tide would soon bring a favorite fish of ours into far corners of the lagoon. The morning sun was still at a low angle, and so I stood in my kayak for a better view into the water. Immediately, I spotted sheepshead, with their incomparable black-and-white bars. In typical fashion, the sheepshead flushed at my cast. As I watched them depart, a flash of silver gave away another pompano. I estimated its trajectory, reeled up and cast another 8 or 10 feet as far.
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With a second pompano in the cooler, and no hoots of success from my buddy on the other side of the channel, I paused to offer help. “Ed, let me check out your lure and leader.” As we got close, I could see his lure looked on the light side, leader on the heavy. “Try this 20-pound-test fluorocarbon, and try a slightly heavier shrimp,” I offered. I was using a Z-Man PrawnstarZ 3.5-inch shrimp in Natural Shrimp color, 3⁄16-ounce. Ed had a light jighead and plastic grubtail, but I noticed he was well-stocked with the 3- and 4-inch DOA Shrimp in the ¼-ounce and ½-ounce versions.
“Try one of those," I suggested. "Watch for flashes. They’re hanging around with the sheepshead, and probably with any mullet you see.”
Soon Ed was in the game. In very clear water, pompano often shy away from too-heavy leader. They have finely tuned eyes stationed on the sides of their head. When they’re foraging on a tidal flat, I swear they’ll use one eye to look up for ospreys and other predators, while the other scans down for shrimp, clams and other food. They see everything. A lure which scoots or scuttles across the sand is far more likely to get eaten than one swimming high in the water column.
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If a wall-eyed pompano sounds ridiculous to you, explain to me what the heck they’re doing when they “skip.” Spend enough time paddling a kayak in coastal Florida and you’re guaranteed to see this behavior. You think it’s a mullet flying through the air—you see jumping mullet all the time—but it’s shaped like a frisbee and hits the water like a cinderblock. I’ve had pompano skip right into my boat. Our assumption is the fish get spooked by the presence of the boat. When one of their random evasive bursts aims a little above the horizontal, out of the water it comes. Invariably, the airborne pompano is tilted on its side, like a chrome-plated, jet-propelled flounder.
Ed and I wouldn’t see any pompano skipping on this full moon in February, but as the tide turned to outgoing, we did see a few of the fish’s other quirky behaviors. Tailing pompano? For sure.
Kayak Fishing Special The June issue of Florida Sportsman magazine featured the Kayak Fishing Special, a series of tactical and gear-related articles, such as this one, to help you maximize your success with your new fishing kayak. Also in the series:
In saltwater circles, the term “tailing fish” is usually assumed to imply bonefish or red drum. These two prized inshore species have body shapes and bottom-feeding ways that conspire to advertise their availability to enthusiastic anglers stalking them in shallow water.
Pompano, like their larger cousin, the permit, absolutely will “tail.” Sometimes you’ll encounter a pompano pointed straight down in the frantic, cat-on-mouse task of evicting a crab or other morsel from a hideyhole. You may see the entire forked tail waving in the sunlight. More often, though, it’s a brief glimpse of a fin tip. Redfish and bonefish tail up for longer periods. The red, of course, has a square tail, the bonefish a forked tail. Worth noting, too, is that a saltwater catfish—nobody’s prize—has a tail fork lying somewhere between that of bonefish and pompano. It’s not uncommon for the new angler to spend a lot of time eagerly stalking catfish. At the same time, naïve optimism may be rewarded when said catfish turns into a pompano—or even a permit or bonefish. Sheepshead sometimes tail, too—and sometimes eat. For some anglers, sheepshead are a prize. I find them distracting but will occasionally take a shot at them.
Kayak provides double benefit of quiet propulsion to tidal flats with elevation option head and shoulders above wade fishing. When the sun brightened the lagoon from directly overhead and the tide began flowing out hard, it made more sense for Ed and I to get out of our kayaks and wade. Pompano would be moving in this water; from a stationary point, and lower to the water, we could unobtrusively observe. Also the water was getting too thin for our kayak pedal drives.
Shuffling to avoid stepping on stingrays, we watched for the aforementioned flashes of pompano, but we also looked for fin tips—and indeed we spotted a few. As for the rays, we saw them, too. Part of you doesn’t want to see rays, but part of you does. Stingrays often signal fertile bottom. They’ll also poke a horrible, festering wound into your ankle if you’re uncautious or unlucky (one argument for staying in the kayak!). Sharks are another occasional visitor to the shallows. Bulls, lemons, blacktips, bonnetheads, nurses—in descending order of potential aggression—all have their mannerisms. Just remember to put any keeper fish into a cooler or fish bag in your kayak, never on a stringer. Sometimes pompano swim alongside sharks, seemingly without a care in the world. They’ll take a lure then, too.
Tailing pompano—like tailing reds and bones—are 100 percent feeding. For the artificial lure angler, they’re as gullible as they’re going to get; still wary, but the odds of a hookup increase significantly.
You can infer the direction needed for a cast by watching the angle of the tail or dorsal fin—it’ll rake back away from the head. Also, typically, the fish feed into the current.
What you cast isn’t quite as important as where you cast, what the lure does when it lands, and what you do next. Ideally, you want the lure—a shrimp bait, for instance—to land a few feet in front of the tailing fish, and you want it to fall to the bottom. Reel the slack out of the line, and give the lure a pop with the rodtip. Reel up again quick, pop again.
One thing to remember: If a pompano turns and pursues your lure—or you even think one has done so—don’t stop the retrieve. Keep the lure or fly moving in short hops. If the fish continues to track it, and you’ve not felt a strike, odds often favor the angler willing to set the hook on faith. Assume the fish already has your lure. Set the hook! What I’ve found over the years, with pompano, bonefish, redfish, permit—practically every sight-feeding sight-fishing target on the coastal hitlist: If the fish is swimming directly at you and you see the water vibrating around it, but don’t feel pressure on the line, the fish probably has your lure, bait or fly. Slack line, paradoxically, is often the sign of the bite. Hesitancy to set the hook may result in a fish dropping its meal.
A bucktail jig fooled this spunky pompano. Bait can be used, but presenting lures (or flies!) brings added satisfaction. Ed and I each filled our personal quotas of two pompano and soon began releasing fish just for the thrill of the capture. We actually lost count of releases—well into the dozen, dozen-and-a-half, whatever. The bite was that good. Frankly, it was one of the best days in my memory. We had fish on a couple different brands of plastic shrimp, bucktail jigs, various flies (I had brought a flyrod in addition to my spinner). These were big fish, too—the pompano bag limit in Florida is six per person, but the yield of a 16- or 18-inch pompano is impressive. The quality of the meat is very high, but dwindles with freezing or extended refrigeration. Fresh is best. Two robust spring pompano caught on the flats will feed a family of four.
Pompano are hardy fish and seem to do well with catch-and-release. They’re usually lip-hooked, and with the most effective fishing methods favoring single hooks, sending them back is pretty easy.
Pompano are the undiscovered trophy of the subtropical flats, handsome to look at, challenging to catch. Also delicious! Kayaks on the Flats For the coastal fisherman who enjoys wading and sight-casting, a fishing kayak provides a couple of major benefits. Obviously, the kayak solves the problem of getting through deep water to reach wadable depths. Secondly, the kayak solves the dilemma of where to store extra rods, baits, caught fish and refreshments.
Tie a kayak off to your belt with a lanyard and you can carry whatever the day calls for. The kayak also gives you the luxury of choosing your elevation for sight-fishing. In high sun, it may be best to cover water on foot while watching for fish. Good light illuminates plenty of water in typical wading depths.
A fishing kayak has multiple benefits in the shallows, such as getting out for wade fishing. Early or late in the day, when the sun is low and there’s a lot of glare on the water, standing in the kayak may provide a better viewing angle.
A similar calculus surrounds water depths: If you’re pursuing fish in very shallow water, knee-to-thigh deep, wading is advantageous in providing the stealthiest approach. But as the tide rises, getting your eyes up higher may yield better chances of spotting fish.
A variety of “shrimp-ish” patterns will take pompano. The pink one is a new scented Berkley Gulp! Turbo Shrimp. Conventional Pompano Tactics In clear salt water along beaches and tidal flats, water temps between 65 and 75 degrees, depths of 1 to 3 feet, pompano are excellent targets for sight-fishing. Their omnivorous diet admits the possibility of many kinds of lures.
But that’s hardly the only way to pursue them.
Surely the most popular way to go for pompano is still-fishing with sand fleas, shrimp, salt-cured clam strips or synthetic scented baits on multiple hook “dropper rigs”, anchored with a pyramid sinker. Fishing in this manner from an Atlantic or Gulf Coast beach, long rods placed in PVC holders pounded into the sand, is a time-honored tradition. On very calm days, a beach-launched kayak may certainly be used to similar effect. At times pompano run very close to the beach, but on days when they’re “outside the bar,” beyond casting range of common tackle, a kayak opens up possibilities even anglers using 12-foot surf rods can’t touch.
Pompano also migrate through deep channels, where unadorned, painted lead jigs (so-called goofy jigs or pompano jigs) are effective for reaching their feeding zones. Pink, yellow, and chartreuse are three popular colors. Anglers sometimes rig the jigs in tandem with small teaser flies.
This article was featured in the June issue of Florida Sportsman Magazine. Click to subscribe .
