Bream stalking

As we approached an open-water, tightly-clustered stand of cypress trees in upper Lake Marion, my bream fishing buddy cut off the already slow-motoring throttle 200 yards from the target. As the boat drifted toward the trees, he went old school, pulling a custom-built sculling paddle to continue our stealthy approach.

As he’d instructed, I prepped my rig without making a sound or wasted motion. I hunkered in the boat, sitting on a cooler to maintain a low profile.

Standing was taboo, forbidden, by this bream-master.

The boat-wake ripples had vanished before reaching the target. The water was calm, and the morning sun was just breaking the horizon to the east, creating a warm, reddish glow on the tops of the greened cypress trees we approached.

Armed with 12-foot fiberglass poles, a tiny Thill Mini Shy float, a BB split shot, and a sharp No. 4 wire hook, we began pitching crickets in and around the trees.

The air stirred, and a puff of wind into our faces brought a quick reaction from my fishing partner. He turned to me and whispered ever so low, “They’re still here.”

My nose received the same scent message he’d recognized, the wonderful scent of a bream bed. We were close.

He had the crosshairs lined perfectly on his next shot, and the cricket rig hit the target, the heart of a tiny opening in a clump of trees. I watched as a small ripple appeared where the now-vanished float had been. Snapping his wrist and raising his arm, he solidly hooked the bull bream. He skillfully kept the fish under the water’s surface, ensuring no splash, until he had the long-pole leverage to pop the deep-purple bream out of the water and into his waiting hand. It seemed so natural, like he’d done that thousands of times.

As he slipped the bream into the icy cooler so the fish could chill and minimize noise, I hooked into the big-brother of his bream. Enjoying the fierce fight of the panfish, I momentarily lost focus and let the fish break the surface for an instant. I was seriously admonished with a silent stare, which was fortunately followed by a big grin.

Step it up

“Sometimes they’re going to do what a big bream does,” he said.

My minor miscue didn’t slow the bite in this instance, and the morning went as planned. And we’d planned for some great bream action.

It’s May, and bream are in the shallows throughout Santee Cooper, and many are on the beds.

Some bream-chasers take their bream fishing seriously, and it is more akin to stalking or hunting wild critters than merely fishing.

This leveling-up practice of stealthy diligence to put the odds in their favor is not an act. It’s a highly focused tactic to target the biggest and most bream.

These fish-hunters practice stealth to a level any deer hunter would be proud to achieve. They silently work along wood, rock, and brushy targets, probing every nook and cranny available, hitting targets precisely and quietly. Whether using live bait or artificial lures, they’re searching for the sweet spot, often a tiny target that produces a big load of fat bream.

Stealth is the key

The concerted effort to minimize fish splashing on the surface and slipping fish into the boat is a dual-purpose stealth tactic. It keeps their bream party private from nearby bream-bed crashers while respecting a bull bream’s shyness.

The biggest bream in limit numbers is their goal, and when zeroed in on a target, a couple of anglers can max-out quickly. Taking the extra measures to ensure stealth and quietness provides a distinct edge over boat-bangers. Collectively, all the best bream fishermen I’ve fished with are keen on stealth. They believe big bream are sensitive to unnatural noise or motion.

We all know a bream angler or two who are loners, private, but incredibly proficient.

If all this seems extreme, it is, and that’s the point.

Is this level of stealth and detail necessary to make good bream catches? Of course not. When conditions are right, almost everyone can catch bream on the beds. That’s why we love them.

But does it matter in the quality and quantity of bream caught? Absolutely.

Whether the moon is full or new, or bream are bedding or roaming, modifying your strategy to “bream stalking” is a game changer.

Bream stalkers know the results are worth the effort.

Don’t forget the net:

While fishing nets are most often associated with catfish anglers, bass anglers, and saltwater anglers, when you decide to go bream stalking, you’ll need one too. Especially when using light tackle, which most bream anglers prefer, a landing net is a necessity rather than just a luxury.