Goggle-eyes don’t hold bankers’ hours. They move under cover of darkness. That’s why they have such big eyes; so they can stick together and evade predators.
Technically speaking, it’s a bigeye scad, or if you’re fishing south of the border a caballito, which translates to little horse. It’s an opportune nickname because wrangling this prized baitfish requires an understanding of tide, current, moon phase and water temperature.
Weekend warriors typically don’t have the time, or drive, it takes to load up on gogs. They rely on a network of strong-willed bait men to keep them stocked. And like other commodities, the price of goggle-eyes fluctuates with demand. Come tournament time, you may pay $10 or more per bait. That adds up quickly when you need several dozen in the tank for a day of fishing.
I meet Tyler Hall at Lighthouse Point Marina in Florida’s Fort Lauderdale area, where he’s unloading a few round plastic bins that resemble four-person Jacuzzi tubs from his pickup truck. He’s tall and wiry, with fast-moving eyes and exaggerated facial expressions. He’s high energy. He moves quickly and expeditiously as we walk down the dock toward the fuel pumps. Tyler began catching bait as a
