July 24, 2024: “There!” Nick Hanney shouted, pointing his rod tip at a loose group of terns converging over the water 200 yards away. He pushed his Seacraft toward the birds, and I flipped open the bail on my spinning reel, allowing the small soft plastic to dangle a few inches below the rod tip. Below the birds, short streaks of white appeared across the water’s surface, evidence of baitfish meeting violent ends in the maws of one of our fastest inshore gamefish. Nick cut the engine, and I let the cast fly. The lure touched down, I twitched it twice, and the rod bent to the grip and the line hissed as it sliced through the surface when my first Atlantic bonito of the year hit the afterburners.
(Photo by Joey Manansala)
They showed up in the first week of June, when three anglers, fishing for bluefish and stripers around three different parts of Cape Cod, instead caught bonito.It was a bit early, but not too far ahead of the accepted timeframe for the first appearance of Sarda sarda in the Northeast. Besides raising a few eyebrows among the hardtail-loving light-tackle crowd, the catches faded from the angling consciousness by the time the following week’s report discussed a torrid bluefin tuna bite off Chatham, Massachusetts.
In 2024, most of the bonito caught close to shore in Rhode Island and Massachusetts ranged from 2 to 4 pounds, but a few larger fish were mixed in.
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Bonito continued to appear too sporadically to warrant much interest until mid-July, when schools of the pinstriped speedsters settled into the usual locations off Cape Cod, such as Nantucket’s Bonito Bar and Martha’s Vineyard’s The Hooter. Anglers prepared for another standard bonito season, which usually serves as little more than a stopgap between the early-summer striper run and the late-summer arrival of false albacore. But, instead of remaining on those distant shoals and rips, the bonito charged inshore, launching an assault on the silversides and peanut bunker that would continue, with varying intensity, until the second week of November.
In addition to Cape Cod, bonito blitzed in Rhode Island, New York, and New Jersey. Anglers either welcomed the bonito boon, or—in the case of tuna fishermen—cursed the bonito bycatch. I even heard of instances of fishermen getting bored with bonito in a rare example of an angling “champagne problem.” Some even went so far as to blame bonito for the poor showing of false albacore, claiming the bones ate and scattered all the baitfish, leaving nothing to hold the albies’ interest.
A strong showing of peanut bunker in Buzzards Bay in August held the bonito there for weeks, where anglers did well with deep-bodied epoxy jigs. (Photo by Matt Haeffner)
My interest in last year’s bonito run spiked in early August, when schools of 2- to 4-pounders whipped the waters of Buzzards Bay into a meringue in their pursuit of silver-dollar-sized peanut bunker. Before-work boat trips and weekend kayak launches provided ample bonito steaks for backyard barbeques. That interest waned in September and October, but returned in November, when the pursuit of one more inshore pelagic provided a fitting final quest for the local saltwater season.
The Atlantic Bonito
Atlantic bonito are a widespread species, with populations along the east coast of the United States and across the ocean in Europe and Africa, where they are far more popular as both a food and sport fish. While there’s been relatively little research or tagging efforts done on bonito on our side of the Atlantic, in Spain, they are heavily studied, and there have even been efforts to breed bonito in captivity. All we know about them is that they are scarce during some years and wildly abundant in others.
Besides the Northeast in the summer and fall, bonito appear off the Carolinas in early spring, where a few anglers take advantage of the fun light-tackle fishing they provide.
Bonito belong the Scombrid family, making them relatives of mackerel and tuna. They have an average lifespan of 4 to 5 years, during which they grow to sizes in excess of 10 pounds. The largest specimens live across the ocean, including the largest ever captured on rod and reel, an 18-pound, 4-ouncer from the Azores in 1953.
Anglers often lump bonito in with albies, since the two species have a similar look and are fished similarly. Many anglers believe bonito swim faster than false albacore, but lack the strength and endurance of little tunny. Bonito also have a higher tolerance for cold water than albies, and they arrive earlier and stay later in the Northeast.
One of the most noticeable differences between an albie and a bonito is that a bonito’s mouth is full of needlelike teeth. While albies are content ram-feeding on nearly invisible anchovies, bonito tend to favor larger baits like full-size silversides and peanut bunker.
One of the main differences between false albacore and Atlantic bonito is that a bonito’s mouth is full of sharp, needlelike teeth. (Photo by Matt Haeffner)
New Regulations for Bonito (and Albies)
(Photo by Matt Haeffner)
The Massachusetts Division of Marine Fisheries (DMF) implemented a 16-inch fork length minimum size and a five-fish per person possession limit—for Atlantic bonito and false albacore combined—for the 2025 season. The new rules are aimed at protecting the future of these fast-swimming pelagic fish, which have become central to the region’s late summer and fall inshore fishery.
The minimum size of 16 inches corresponds with the estimated length at which both false albacore and Atlantic bonito reach maturity. The five-fish possession limit is designed to reflect current recreational harvest levels, ensuring the vast majority of anglers will not be affected while still limiting the potential for overfishing or the expansion of new, targeted commercial efforts.
Bonito Techniques
While most of the albie fishing in the Northeast and mid-Atlantic centers around running and gunning after blitzing fish with light tackle or fly rods, bonito techniques are more varied. Anglers happily troll, chum, or run and gun for bones, depending on the time of year and location.
Trolling
Most years, trolling is the most effective way to catch bonito. As their schools settle over rips, shoals, and lumps, anglers set a spread of two to four rods, depending on the size of their boats. The lures that end up in a bonito spread varies depending on the region.
Off southern New Jersey, where I first fished for bonito, captains favor the Clark Spoon—a wafer thin, metal lure with an integrated hook—trolled behind a drail weight or planer board. Some, like my good friend John Grymzko, add some small trolling feathers to the spread, which has the added benefit of fooling the occasional school bluefin tuna.
Trolling Clark Spoons behind drail weights or planer boards is a popular technique in the mid-Atlantic.
When I moved to New England, I learned that Cape Cod captains overwhelmingly use small, deep-diving plugs. A repurposed salmon lure, the Rebel Fas-Trac, did the heavy lifting for the Cape Cod and Rhode Island bonito trollers in the 1990s and 2000s, until it was discontinued. Anglers haven’t missed a beat, though, as the Rapala X-Rap Magnum 10 proved to be an improvement over the old Rebel.
Last summer, I learned from Captain Doug Toback that scaled-down spreader bars make a deadly bonito presentation. The heavier tackle required to troll small spreaders deadens the fight of the bonito a bit, but the improved chances of raising a wayward bluefin makes it worthwhile. Bonito trolling speeds begin at 5 knots and move up from there, depending on whether there are bluefish plaguing your spread.
Chumming
While it’s standard operating procedure for the headboat fleet, chumming for bonito is rarely employed by private boaters. It is, after all, a messy endeavor that, done right, requires considerable prep work.
Deploying a gallon of frozen bunker chum can pull in bonito, though it also pulls in sharks that will happily eat any hooked bonito. Chumming with whole, dead silversides better targets bonito and other inshore pelagics like Spanish mackerel, false albacore, mahi, and small bluefin without attracting the taxman.
A half- to three-quarter-full bucket of fresh silversides seined the day before the trip should cover a few hours of fishing. Set aside the largest silversides as your bait. Drift them back into the slick with a small, but strong hook snelled to a 12-pound-test leader fished on light spinning tackle. When the bonito find your chum line, you can also cast epoxy-style jigs, Albie Snax, other plastics, or even small topwater lures like Rebel Jumping’ Minnows.
False albacore often feed on micro baitfish and tend to be picky eaters, but bonito rarely hesitate to chase down and strike epoxy-style jigs. (Photo by Matt Haeffner)
Run and Gun
No different from albie fishing, running and gunning for bonito involves locating a school of feeding fish (most often under small seabirds like terns or juvenile gulls), positioning the boat in range, and casting into the melee.While you may be tempted to retrieve at the breakneck speeds that are effective for albies, bonito respond best to moderately paced retrieves.
As for lures, bonito fall for all the same offerings as false albacore, including epoxy-style jigs, Albie Snax, 4-inch RonZs, as well as a wide range of baitfish-imitating flies like the Bonito Bunny developed by Captain Jamie Boyle of Martha’s Vineyard.
The big numbers of bonito and sustained surface blitzes allowed anglers to target them, with great success, on the fly. (Photo by Matt Haeffner)
Steak Them Up
Bonito have a mild flesh that can be grilled, seared, or served as sashimi. It’s a bit soft, but when steaked, instead of filleted, the meat holds together beautifully on the grill.
Grilled Spicy Bonito Steaks 4 bonito steaks 1/3 cup butter 1/4 cup lime juice 1/4 cup hot sauce (I use Frank’s) 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
Over low heat, melt the butter in a metal baking dish. Stir in the lime juice, hot sauce, and garlic powder. Add the steaks to the pan to marinate for a few minutes. (Keep the pan warm or the butter will congeal.) Grill the fish on high heat for about 4 min- utes per side, basting with the excess marinade as you go. The melted butter will cause flare-ups on the grill that will help get a nice char on the fish. Once the fish is cooked to 145 degrees in the thickest part, heat the reserved marinade, whisk it, and drizzle on top before serving. -Andy Nabreski
Atlantic Bonito From Shore
Bonito infrequently feed in surfcasting range in New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut, but in Rhode Island and Massachusetts, fishermen catch bonito from shore every season. Two of the most reliable areas include Great Point on Nantucket and South County, Rhode Island. During years like 2024, when big schools of bonito moved inshore, the fish popped up in the Cape Cod Canal and along the beaches on the south side of Cape Cod.
In Rhode Island and Massachusetts—especially on Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard, and Nantucket—anglers get good shots at bonito from shore every season. (Photo by Jack Larizadeh)
Casting distance is a consideration when choosing bonito lures for shore-bound pursuits, especially from open beaches, so fishermen tend to use larger, heavier epoxy jigs to cover more water. As with boat fishing, moderate retrieve speeds tend to generate more strikes.
Last year, while pursuing my November bonito, I discovered that many of the anglers having success had traded in their epoxy jigs and Albie Snax for small minnow plugs. In the rapidly cooling waters, slower retrieves were the key, and the minnow plugs provided enticing action while remaining in the strike zone.
November 9, 2024: On a windswept jetty on the south side of Cape Cod, Matt Haeffner and I braced against the cold. While I’d borne witness to several bonito landed earlier in the week, on that blustery Saturday, we saw no signs of life. The flocks of terns and gulls had dissipated like smoke, and many of the baitfish schools had vanished. I removed a fresh 4-inch Rapala X-Rap Saltwater from the package, tied it on, and began casting. Though the options at Falmouth Bait and Tackle had been somewhat limited, the “Pilchard” color, with its green back and reflective sides, seemed a perfect choice. Thirty minutes into fishing, just as thoughts of a hot breakfast sandwich from the local coffee shop threatened to override my desire to catch one last bonito, the hit came. Furious headshakes followed a short, but intense run before giving up.
Brisk mornings and hungry bonito. The author’s final bonito of the season, caught in early November.
The neon green of the fish, the last evidence of summer’s warmth left on the Cape, seemed out of place against the bare trees that loomed over the shoreline.The steaks, I’m sure, would have been delicious, but grilling them while wearing a thick flannel in a backyard blanketed with fallen leaves would have diminished the experience. A gentle headfirst toss off the end of the jetty gave the fish a boost toward wherever he and his schoolmates would spend the winter, and I, after a few “last casts,” headed home to rake.
