When I was guiding on the flats up in Key West, there was one species that was more difficult to hook on fly than both bonefish and permit combined, and that was the mutton snapper. Like a lot of other fish, they were easy to catch in the deep water with live bait, but in the shallows they were the rarest of the rare.
For the majority of non-saltwater anglers, the mutton snapper is best known as a $24.95 entrée on the specials menu, and for good reason. They are easily one of the most delicious fish that swims in the ocean, with perfect white fillets that have an unbelievably firm sweetness to them when lightly grilled.
As fantastic as they are on the plate, they’re even more stunning in the water. Growing up to twenty pounds, muttons are easily the most beautiful of all the snapper species, none of which are the least bit homely. Their colors are something that can only be duplicated by the most talented of artists. Photos rarely do them justice. Their bodies are a metallic combination of yellow, gold, and bronze, with bright pink fins and neon blue facial highlights thrown in for good measure. As a living aquatic sculpture, mutton snapper have no equals.
All of that physical perfection comes with an angling price, and that price is the extreme difficulty to fool them with a fly in the shallows. Just like the permit, they’re at home in the deeper water but come up to the flats on a quest for live crabs. This is one more reason that the classic Merkin is the best all around shallow water pattern. Unlike the permit, mutton snapper will also eat almost anything they can fit down their throats, so shrimp and bait fish flies work well, too. But this doesn’t mean that they’re mindless eaters. Since they’re designed for the deeper waters, hunting food on the flats probably leaves them feeling very exposed. One thing I’ve learned about chasing mutton snapper is that when you can see them, they can definitely see you.
As I mentioned earlier, on the flats off Key West, muttons were as scarce as sunken treasure, and the reason for that was over-fishing. Very few legal size snapper caught anywhere in the Keys are ever released. Several years ago the offshore and light tackle guides discovered the springtime spawning pattern of this species and started hammering them without mercy. I remember spending one seasick April night on my friend’s thirty foot Chris Craft pulling up nearly 200 pounds of muttons off the reef at the Sand Key lighthouse. It was perfectly legal and we were strictly following the size and bag limits for this species at the time, but we weren’t the only boat out there. We all ate well that week but I never associated what we were doing with the severe lack of these fish on the flats.
For Vieques, with its total absence of GPS guided boats with sonar powered fish-finders, mutton snapper are common in both the deep and shallow waters. They’re nowhere near as abundant on the flats as bonefish but they’re almost an everyday sight. Seeing their bright pink and orange tail break the surface is one of the most heart racing moments on the water down here. Since muttons are also a territorial species, I have a few spots in here on the island that I can count on for finding a resident fish basking under the surface a few feet from his hole in the mangrove roots. Catching that fish is a different story altogether.
Spotting a mutton snapper on the flats means the fish has also spotted the boat, so casting a fly to one has to be done quickly and without a lot of gymnastics. Waving an arm is usually enough to send the fish running for cover. We’ve been lucky on several mornings this year and hooked some big muttons feeding on the deeper flats in Ensenada Honda. A couple of these snapper were pushing ten pounds and pulled harder than any bonefish could, running the fly line well into the backing.
One of my anglers, a saltwater veteran with several permit on fly under his belt, commented that the seven pound mutton we had just landed was the most beautiful fish he’d ever seen. I couldn’t really disagree. And unlike my Florida days, I sent this one back into the water.
For the majority of non-saltwater anglers, the mutton snapper is best known as a $24.95 entrée on the specials menu, and for good reason. They are easily one of the most delicious fish that swims in the ocean, with perfect white fillets that have an unbelievably firm sweetness to them when lightly grilled.
As fantastic as they are on the plate, they’re even more stunning in the water. Growing up to twenty pounds, muttons are easily the most beautiful of all the snapper species, none of which are the least bit homely. Their colors are something that can only be duplicated by the most talented of artists. Photos rarely do them justice. Their bodies are a metallic combination of yellow, gold, and bronze, with bright pink fins and neon blue facial highlights thrown in for good measure. As a living aquatic sculpture, mutton snapper have no equals.
All of that physical perfection comes with an angling price, and that price is the extreme difficulty to fool them with a fly in the shallows. Just like the permit, they’re at home in the deeper water but come up to the flats on a quest for live crabs. This is one more reason that the classic Merkin is the best all around shallow water pattern. Unlike the permit, mutton snapper will also eat almost anything they can fit down their throats, so shrimp and bait fish flies work well, too. But this doesn’t mean that they’re mindless eaters. Since they’re designed for the deeper waters, hunting food on the flats probably leaves them feeling very exposed. One thing I’ve learned about chasing mutton snapper is that when you can see them, they can definitely see you.
As I mentioned earlier, on the flats off Key West, muttons were as scarce as sunken treasure, and the reason for that was over-fishing. Very few legal size snapper caught anywhere in the Keys are ever released. Several years ago the offshore and light tackle guides discovered the springtime spawning pattern of this species and started hammering them without mercy. I remember spending one seasick April night on my friend’s thirty foot Chris Craft pulling up nearly 200 pounds of muttons off the reef at the Sand Key lighthouse. It was perfectly legal and we were strictly following the size and bag limits for this species at the time, but we weren’t the only boat out there. We all ate well that week but I never associated what we were doing with the severe lack of these fish on the flats.
For Vieques, with its total absence of GPS guided boats with sonar powered fish-finders, mutton snapper are common in both the deep and shallow waters. They’re nowhere near as abundant on the flats as bonefish but they’re almost an everyday sight. Seeing their bright pink and orange tail break the surface is one of the most heart racing moments on the water down here. Since muttons are also a territorial species, I have a few spots in here on the island that I can count on for finding a resident fish basking under the surface a few feet from his hole in the mangrove roots. Catching that fish is a different story altogether.
Spotting a mutton snapper on the flats means the fish has also spotted the boat, so casting a fly to one has to be done quickly and without a lot of gymnastics. Waving an arm is usually enough to send the fish running for cover. We’ve been lucky on several mornings this year and hooked some big muttons feeding on the deeper flats in Ensenada Honda. A couple of these snapper were pushing ten pounds and pulled harder than any bonefish could, running the fly line well into the backing.
One of my anglers, a saltwater veteran with several permit on fly under his belt, commented that the seven pound mutton we had just landed was the most beautiful fish he’d ever seen. I couldn’t really disagree. And unlike my Florida days, I sent this one back into the water.
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