Return of the River Weirdos
Chasing American Shad on the Sacramento and Feather Rivers
It’s that time of year again!
Cottonwood fluff drifts like riverbank confetti, pelicans are scouting their seasonal hangouts, stripers are sneaking upstream like frat boys looking for the next party, and you know what that means: the American shad are on their way.
As soon as we hit that first 95-degree day—and let’s be honest, it’s probably next week—I’ll be posted up on the Lower Sacramento near Chico, switch rod in hand, knee-deep in cold water, throwing darts at these big-scaled beauties like it’s trout season for weirdos. And let me tell you: it is.
It’s trout season for weirdos
A Quick History of These Slippery Transplants
The American shad isn’t native to the Sacramento or Feather rivers—they were transplanted here from the East Coast in the 1870s, because apparently somebody out east looked west, saw a bunch of empty rivers, and said, “Let’s see what happens if we add fish that slap.”
Originally native to the Atlantic, from Newfoundland down to Florida, these anadromous fish (that’s science-speak for “I live in the ocean but like to get freaky in freshwater”) were brought to California in a time before ecological caution was a thing. But the move stuck. Shad were first introduced into the Sacramento River in 1871, and by the 1880s, they were already being reported in Oregon and Washington. They didn't just survive—they thrived. Kind of like IPA breweries in small towns.
By the turn of the century, American shad had established a solid West Coast population, and now, they return to our rivers every late spring like seasonal regulars at the bar: a little rowdy, dressed flashy, and impossible to ignore.
You won’t find them on any Chico food truck menu
Life, Death, and Sexy Fish Business
Shad spend most of their adult lives in the ocean, then return to freshwater to spawn—kind of like your college buddy who only comes back to town for hometown weddings. Unlike salmon, not all shad die after spawning. Some do, some don’t. It’s a mixed bag of fishy commitment issues.
Females can lay over 300,000 eggs each season, which explains why they have so much energy to fight like hell when they’re hooked. They don’t eat much once they enter the river (which might make you question their life choices), but they will still attack a fly like it owes them money.
Historically, American shad were a staple for both early settlers and Native tribes. On the East Coast, especially in the mid-Atlantic, they were a vital food source, smoked or salted for preservation. Some even argue they helped keep George Washington’s army from starving at Valley Forge. Out west, they didn’t quite catch on as table fare, which is why you won’t find them on any Chico food truck menu—thank God.
Why Fish for Shad?
Here’s the thing—shad aren’t prized for their meat (unless you’re making cat food), but they fight like drunken silver missiles and often come in thick. They roll into the system by the thousands, stacking up in deep runs and tailouts, and when the bite is on, it’s like every cast has a chance to turn into a mini rodeo.
Add to that: the fishing is local, after-work friendly, and usually involves hanging out with your buddies, tossing flies, and cracking open a cold one while the sun sets behind a stand of sycamores. It’s got that early-summer magic—like high school romance, but with more wading boots and fewer awkward text messages.
PJ’s Lowdown on Tactics
I love using my switch rod to swing deep through those mid-river trenches, especially around the Chico stretch of the Sac. Depending on the depth and current, I’ll go with either a sink tip to get the fly down or fish it under an indicator to keep it up in the zone.
One of my favorite techniques, though, is no tip—just a long leader and a little jig strip during the swing. That twitchy movement? Gets their attention like neon yoga pants at a trout convention.
As for flies, well… let’s just say I’ve tied some weird stuff in my day. Chartreuse and cerise are classic colors, but I’ve also got a Bloody Maria pattern that I swear by. It’s a red thread base, bead head of your choosing, wire ribbing, and a flashy tail of UV Krystal Flash. I run that as a trailer behind my other go-to: a neon pink and green nightmare we lovingly call the Cat Turd.
It ain’t pretty—but neither is shad season, and that’s what makes it beautiful.
I’ve also got a Bloody Maria pattern that I swear by
A Dirty Little Secret
Let’s just say: shad fishing gives you all the adrenaline of a bar fight with none of the dental bills. And yes, I’ve been known to say things like, “I love it when they throb on the swing.” You know—because of the take. Don't cancel me. Cancel your evening plans and come fish instead.
Don’t Miss It
There’s a narrow window every year when the water’s cool, the evenings are long, and the shad bite is on. And if you’re not out there in the river with us—maybe waist deep with a Chico’s Finest in your hand and a rod bent like your weekend moral compass—you’re missing out on one of the most underrated fishing seasons California has to offer.
So here’s your Call to Action:
👉 Grab your gear. Tie some freaky-looking flies. Book a guided evening session or reach out for tips.
Let’s make memories, miss a few dinners, and chase some big, scaly freaks under cottonwood skies.
Check the latest reports, swing by the site, or message me directly to line up a shad trip.
Because every cast is an adventure—and this one slaps.
Ready to Make the Cast?
If you’re feeling that tug—yeah, that one deep in your gut—you’re not alone. Whether it’s wild fish testing your patience, a steelhead peeling line and breaking hearts, Or a Weird Scaly Alien we call the Shad, this story’s best told waist-deep in moving water.
Book a trip – Come chase trout and steelhead or Shad with me, and Feel The Tug for yourself.
Join the mailing list – Get honest fishing reports, hatch updates, and tips that actually help.
Check out our clinics and resources – From first casts to advanced tactics, we’re here to make you a better angler.
Because every cast is a choice—and when you understand what’s on the other end of your line, it matters even more.