You’ve dropped your anchor, deployed your trolling motor, or set your gear down on the rocky shoreline. You take a pair of shears to your favorite crab species, bait up, and you’re fishing. A minute goes by, then another. Nothing has taken the bait. Boredom sets in; you think about making a minor adjustment, and then feel that unmistakable bite.
‘Well, that took a little longer than usual.’ Fear not for your spot. Chances are, the bite will come faster on your next drop, then faster yet on the following drop.
I have witnessed this many times while togging in trusty honey holes from shore, kayak, and occasionally aboard my father’s 2001 Grady White 282 Sailfish.
A far cry from the quick start of the lock-and-load black sea bass trips of June and July, togging requires a mob mentality from the structure’s gritty inhabitants.
The theories on the cause for the slow burn effect that defines a building tog bite vary. Whether the sound of shells being smashed rings the dinner bell or the crab juices flowing from a specific spot on the seafloor create an aroma akin to morning coffee or bacon, there is no denying the pattern.
Not only will the pace of your fishing and quantity of your catch grow, but in many cases, the size of the fish will improve. On a recent land-based tog fishing outing with my father, Capt. Mike Modica, we saw the first 20 fish fall between 12 and 15 inches. Then, much like a light switch, our limit of six tasty blackfish came in the last eight fish of the outing.
Fish thrive on competition. These larger fish likely noticed a concentration of their subordinates chowing down on green crabs. They felt a responsibility to use their size to their advantage, effectively clearing the area of the smaller fish.
If you find yourself in a spot that you trust and have had prior success, do not be afraid to spend a good bit of time waiting on those fish. More often than not, good spots will eventually yield fast action and some delicious filets for dinner.