A striper is what it does. It’s how the fish goes about its daily business of feeding in so many habitats and under such varied conditions that makes it so magical. I have followed stripers for a lifetime, and they surprise me every season.
What’s not to like about striped bass? New York fly guide Captain Brendan McCarthy said he wishes the fish would tail more on the flats, like bonefish. A nitpick, but fair enough. Someone else told me that if striped bass jumped, he’d quit his job and leave his happy home to follow the fish to his ruin.
Stripers make an honest jump on rare occasions, but more often they pull off what one might generously call a clumsy leap—more like a barrel roll—where they partially emerge from the water and curl back over with a splash. But a true jump, like a rainbow or billfish? It’s not part of the package.
What a striper can do more than makes up for its lack of aerial explosives. “Stripers are so well-endowed in terms of where they live and how they make a living,” said John Waldman, an aquatic conservation biologist and professor at Queens College. “There is almost no habitat along the coast where they are not found.”
According to Waldman, who is a longtime striper angler and edited the book Stripers: An Angler’s Anthology, the fish is the ultimate generalist. “Some species have very particular requirements, like grayling or brook trout,” he said. “These damn things exist and flourish in an amazing range of geography and environments.”
Striped bass are perfectly formed to thrive in a world of tides and currents, moving