Squid jigging is an art form. If you doubt it, put yourself in the lineup at one of docks where calamari-crazed fishermen huddle in the droning hum of their generators and the alien-green gleam of their HydroGlow lights. Watch the regulars. They’ll be the ones intently staring at their rods, making precise upward sweeps, filling their buckets at a much faster pace than you.
Despite being a lower link on the food chain, the longfin and shortfin squid—the most common squid species in the Northeast—are voracious predators. They hunt down small baitfish and crustaceans that they snatch with their tentacles, wrap up in their arms, and devour with their beaks. This makes them a fun (and sometimes challenging) target on rod and reel, an endeavor sweetened by the promise of a fresh calamari meal the following day.
However, squid can’t be caught with just any old jig. The keen eyesight and unique anatomy of this cephalopod makes traditional fishing hooks and lures ineffective. Instead, fishermen must use teardrop- or shrimp-shaped jigs fitted with “baskets,” rows of small tines designed to impale and entangle the squid’s tentacles.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching and imitating the squid-dock sharpies, it’s that when working a squid jig, less is more. The longer the jig remains in the strike zone (usually near the bottom, but not always), the better the odds of a strike. This puts the heavy lifting on the jig itself—to look convincing enough to fool a keen-eyed squid while remaining as still as possible.
Squid-jig manufacturers have some tricks up their sleeves for making their lures more appealing. Serious squid fishermen look for jigs that sink slowly and sit horizontally in the water, have some added details like eyes and feather fins, and come in squid-approved colors. Some squid jigs even have fabric coverings that add color and texture. Shimano took it a step further with their squid jig, the Sephia Clinch, by adding “Flash Boost.”
Flash Boost is a small, reflective foil suspended on micro-springs within a transparent chamber on the bait. The foil quivers and turns, flashing light in all directions, even when the bait is at rest, giving it a further touch of realism. Combined with erratic action and an internal weight system that keeps the bait vertical, the Sephia Clinch is most advanced squid jig in the North American market.
This might seem like a lot of tech for catching squid when the average calamari appetizer at your local seafood joint will run you just $14.99 a plate, but aside from the “can’t-put-a-price-on satisfaction” of procuring your own food, the true value of a squid jig is in acquiring bait.
If ever there was a cheat code for overnight chunking in the canyons, it’s a live squid. On my first-ever headboat trip to the canyons, I remember watching, confused, as the mates worked feverishly to catch squid throughout the night, even though the boat was already loaded down with butterfish, sardines, herring, and dead squid. Yet, when the sun rose over Hydrographers Canyon, the three yellowfin tuna resting in the fish box came on only the three squid the mates had been able to catch. I’ve seen that play out several times since.
While it’s fairly common to see squid appear in the lights of a boat drifting the canyons at night, sometimes those blue-water canyon squid can be maddeningly picky. On such a trip, a squid jig that sits horizontally in the water, has a gently pulsing feather fin, and provides some added attraction while suspended, can be worth its weight in gold, or, better yet, worth the weight of several yellowfin tuna hitting the deck.
