February 11, 2025
Aggressive Housy Linesiders
By Calvin Katz ‘25
On a brisk mid-November Saturday, one of the last bearable days for late-fall fishing left
in the year, Christian, another avid member of the Yale Fishing Club, and I set out to explore a
promising new spot to try for some resident linesiders at the mouth of the Housatonic River,
affectionately known as the Housy.
Even though the best of the fall striper fishing was behind us, Christian and I were
excited about the prospects of wetting a couple lines after a tough week of classes and
exploring this new spot ahead of the spring run. Borrowing a car from a friend, we arrived at our
“secret” location, only to find it bustling with bird watchers and hikers - an unusual sight for a
fishing spot.
Equipped with a selection of flies, some bass lures, and a phone with Google Maps to
guide us, we trudged through the low-tide sand and mud, guided by a loosely dropped pin on
the map. Soon enough, we reached the spot, which to our surprise looked fishy. I scanned the
water looking for any activity such as nervous bait, boils, or maybe even a subsurface bass.
Nothing caught my eye, so I tied on an old reliable search bait, a Keitech swimbait. I began fan
casting the expanse of chilly, low-tide waters in front of me while Christian joined me by fly rod.
After an hour or so with nothing but a couple bumps to show for, the water started moving, signaling the switching of the tides, just the change we needed to hopefully spark the bite. As the water lapped up against my rubber boots and slowly crept up until it poured over the top, soaking my socks, I knew it was time for us to move to a new spot along the rocky
shoreline.
I ran ahead, undiscouraged by cold, wet socks or the lack of fish, accidentally stumbling
across possibly the best-looking striper spot I’ve ever set my eyes upon. There was a vast flat
broken up by islands of reeds that funneled into a single channel that connected to the Housy.
With the tide rising, the water gushing from the channel began to fill up the marshy flat and with
the water came massive amounts of bait. These schools of baitfish consisted heavily of peanut
bunker with a few larger bunker mixed in. Closely following behind these schools of bait were
the bass we had been so eagerly waiting for all morning.
One by one they began to swim up the current of the channel and school in the eddy
that had formed at our feet. A spot that started off looking like it might’ve been too good to be
true was finally revealing some of its secrets. The bass were so tightly hugging the shore that
we practically could’ve reached out and poked them with the tip of our fishing rods.
As the bait kept flowing in, the bass became more fired up, to the point of a subsurface
frenzy with bass flashing and rolling everywhere. We had initially thought they were keying in on
the peanut bunker we had been seeing swimming by in the hundreds, but the bass appeared to
be feeding at all levels of water column with some kicking up sand in between the rocks on the
bottom while munching on shrimp and some feeding near the surface destroying the helpless
peanut bunker.
We excitedly began casting, but after 30 minutes of little to no action it seemed like
nothing in our tackle or fly boxes could fool any of the frenzied bass, but as they became more
aggressive, Christian started picking them off on a shrimp pattern nearly every other cast with
crazy eats happening almost at the tip of his rod right before recasting. As I watched the “bass
master” at work, I began to see some bigger fish come in. On a long strip across the fast current
of the channel I watched Christian’s fly get engulfed by a 15-plus-pound-class striper.
Unfortunately, the fight was short lived as with a violent thrash of its gills and an impressive tail
slap, the beast was able to throw the hook and dive back into the depths. We’re going to be
talking about that fish for years to come.
Inspired by watching Christian hook countless fish on his shrimp pattern, I decided it was
time to change up my lure presentation, so I tied a shrimp pattern off the back of my Keitech
swimbait. Following a couple serious bumps by fish and a few missed hook-ups, I felt some
weight on my line and set the hook, but whatever was on the other end didn’t budge. “Damn
another snag,” I thought, but then that “snag” started fighting at which point I knew it was a
quality fish. I was outmatched on my light-duty spinning rod with 10-pound line, so I loosened
the drag, kept pressure, and hoped for the best.
As soon as the fish went into the strong current, I thought it was over, but I walked down
the shoreline following the fish and keeping pressure, and managed to turn the fish’s head,
slowly coaxing it into the calm eddy beside the fast current. Christian quickly clamored down the
rocks and lipped the fish. When Christian excitedly hoisted it I knew it was a good one.
Measuring in at about 28 inches and weighing around 9 pounds it was a nice late-season bass,
easily my East Coast personal best. After a few quick pictures and more than a few fist bumps, I
revived the fish in the cold water and with a thrash of its tail it sped off into the current, leaving
me soaked, but ecstatic.
Unfortunately, that fish signaled the tail end of the bite window and was the last fish of
the morning. This experience solidified our bond with the Housy and its potential for future
adventures. The Housy is always full of surprises but has almost always produced for me and
this day was no different. The Housy is often overlooked as a prime destination for linesiders but
if you get the timing right and put in the hours out on the water, the Housy can produce some
great fishing on both the fly and traditional lures. Arguably the biggest strength of the Housy is
its resident population of fish. You can go to the Housy at practically any time of year and catch
fish, maybe not your 20-plus-pound class, but schoolies are always patrolling the shorelines and
depths of the river.
Christian and I look forward to the spring run, eager to return to the Housy, a river that
continues to inspire and challenge us.