Life History of a Fish: Roosterfish

I am a tropical nearshore predator, most common around the Sea of Cortez, Baja California, and off the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica, Panama and Ecuador. I have a prominent dorsal fin, resembling a mohawk, and impudent manners, which is earned me the nickname the Punk of the Pacific, but most humans know me as Pez Gallo, or Roosterfish

Appearance and Growth

My full Latin name is Nematistius pectoralis, and I am the sole member of the family Nematistiidae. I’m built for speed and surprise. My body is long and torpedo-shaped – some say fusiform, ideal for quick bursts. When fully grown I can exceed 1.6 m (5 ft 3 in) and weigh over 50 kg (110 lb) – the IGFA all-tackle record stands at 51.7 kg. Most of us, as caught by anglers, are smaller, roughly 60–80 cm long and weighing about 9 kg on average. 

My color is striking: silvery-blue to gray on the sides and back, with two broad dark stripes running from my gill covers all the way to the tail. These stripes break up my outline, a real advantage when I’m lying in wait among the shore breaks. The star feature is my dorsal fin: seven long, stiff spines that can lay flat or fan up into a rooster-comb shape. When I cruise peacefully the spines fold down, but if I’m excited or threatened I flare them high above my back like a fan. This spectacle not only intimidates onlookers, it helps me balance during rapid turns.

My body plan is classic for jacks (order Carangiformes). I have a deeply forked tail and narrow caudal peduncle (for fast swimming) and relatively high-set pectoral fins. Inside my pointed snout are rows of small, sharp teeth to snatch prey. As I grow, my proportions change from the chubby juvenile profile to a sleek adult form: young Roosters have rounder bodies and shorter dorsal spines, while mature ones are elongated and cruise-ready.

Life Cycle and Reproduction

I began life as a tiny egg floating in warm coastal currents. Roosterfish form spawning aggregations – big groups of males and females gathering together offshore, usually in the summer or whenever the water warms up. Our males and females release eggs and sperm in the water column, so fertilized eggs drift with the current. 

I hatched, along with my brothers and sisters, as transparent larvae, and floated near the surface. At that stage I was but a tiny planckton-eater, very vulnerable to bigger fish and seabirds. But soon I grew into a juvenile, and vertical black bars appeared on my silvery body. They are my camouflage that helped me avoid predators when I was a juvenile hiding among rocks and mangrove roots, and still help me remain undetected by my prey. 

Image credit: Tag Cabo Sportfishing

I spent my first year or two in sheltered shallow areas – tidepools, sandy bays and lagoons, where I found both food and refuge: I fed on tiny crustaceans and baitfish there, while the rock and mangrove cover hid me from predators. By my fourth birthday I was nearly a meter long and sexually mature. At that point I departed the nursery and head back to open coastal waters, joining the annual breeding congregations. From then on, each year I’ll make that spawning run again. I can live a long time too; some reports say roosterfish reach 20–35 years of age.

As a large adult I’m near the top of the food chain, so I have few natural enemies besides humans. I rely on my sheer size and speed. I can make strong, sudden runs or jumps when hooked (as any angler knows). If I’m really spooked by a bigger predator, I can raise my dorsal fin spines upright. Flaring that comb of spines makes me look larger and more daunting – I suspect it helps deter sharks or billfish that might think twice about such a spiky mouthful.

Feeding and Hunting

I’m a voracious predator with a generalist diet. As human scientists studied our stomach content, they found out I eat at least nine different fish species plus some squid and octopus. My favorite prey are the little schooling baitfish of the coast: anchovies (genus Anchoa) top the list, but I also chase sardines, blue runners, mullet, jacks and even small grunts or snappers when I get the chance. The charter captains in Costa Rica describe me chasing lookdowns, herrings, small snappers and other silvery fish right into the surf.

Image credit: Felipe Valdez Sportfishing

My hunting style is clever and sometimes collaborative. I’ll use structure and currents to trap schools of bait. Often I will work in pairs or small groups with other roosterfish, herding bait toward shallow water or against rocks. Once the bait is cornered, the attack is explosive: we swim in with a flurry, flashing silver in a burst of whitewater. I rely on keen eyesight to spot prey (I even follow the path of baitfish pursued by seabirds). My famous dorsal comb may actually help create a mini-turbulence or blind moment for the bait when I lunge. I strike with precision, swallowing bait head first to avoid spines on the prey.

In calmer ambush scenarios I use camouflage. Lying almost motionless near sandbars or reef edges, my stripes break up my shape against the bottom. When a school of sardines cruises by, I can jet in a split second. Roosterfish aren’t built for indefinite chases like pelagic tuna or marlin; I can sprint rapidly over short distances, but more often stalk schooling fish rather than chase them endlessly.

Roosterfish Angling Tips

I’m a prized gamefish because I fight fiercely on light tackle, and most anglers treat me with catch-and-release ethics. Here are some secrets from my perspective:

Where and when to find me 

Look for me in warm coastal waters with structure. My habitat covers the Pacific Coast from Baja California (rarely north of there) down to Peru, and includes the Galápagos Islands. I love warm water (70–85°F) and tend to hug the coast: sandy beaches, reefs and drop-offs to about 10–20 m depth (studies show I rarely leave the top ~20 m of the water even at night. In the Sea of Cortez and Central America my numbers peak – it’s no coincidence that Baja, Costa Rica, Panama and Ecuador are famous roosterfish destinations.

Sailfish in the Pacific, tarpon in the Caribbean, rainbow bass in rivers and lakes – Costa Rica is a fishing destination that’s hard to beat.
Learn more about fishing in Costa Rica from our blog.

As a true tropical nearshore predator, I’m ready to grab your lure or bait at any time of the year, but there are slightly better times across my habitat. In Panama, the best season is from April to August, whereas if you go to Costa Rica, it’s best to schedule your trip to the dry season (December-April).

I often lurk near drop-offs, rocky points and reefs close to shore where bait concentrates. In Baja and Costa Rica I even come right up to the surf beaches, pushing baitfish into the shallows where I snap them up. Frigate birds circling above a spot usually signal bait below – if you see diving birds, I’m probably hanging around, too.

How to hook me

The charter boat captains list me as a light tackle species, but this is relative. Down home, many of you Americans and Canadians would define the tackle that can hold me as heavy – a stout spinning or baitcasting rod (at least 7–8 ft medium-heavy) and a reel loaded with 20–30+ kg (50–80 lb) line. Fly anglers use 10–12 weight rods for roosterfish. My runs and jumps need that strength, I break lighter gear quickly! Many charter captains combine braided line (50–100 lb) with a ~40–60 lb fluorocarbon leader to handle my toothy head-shakes. Circle hooks (5/0–6/0) or big J-hooks are used on live baits – they ensure a deep hook-set and easier release.

Live bait is deadly. Hooked mullet, sardines (pilchards), blue runners (Elagatis bipinnulata) or lookdowns (threadfin moonfish) are favorites, I will chase those every time. Teaser rigs (a lure on a hookless line) can bring me to the surface, then drop a live bait behind me. If you troll, knife jigs and swimbaits worked fast can draw strikes as I chase fleeing schools. I absolutely love topwater lures: pencil poppers or big foam poppers making splashes will often trigger my explosive strike. 

Image credit: Ocean Life Costa Rica

When you spot me chasing fish near the beach, stay low and cast in front of me. We often chase bait toward the shallows, so getting your lure or bait between me and the fleeing school is key. On the fly, a streaming baitfish pattern that darts naturally will entice me after some courting. When I strike a topwater lure, be ready for a dramatic sight–sound explosion! If the bite slows, drift with live bait along channels or breaklines. Many anglers chum or troll around islands and steep drop-offs – large Roosters hang in deep water until a teaser brings prey (and us) within range

How to fight me

Once hooked, expect a hard fight. I’m powerful and often jump vigorously, so you’ll pump and reel continuously. If I run, feed line quickly – don’t rip on the rod tip until I’ve slowed. Using a big-arbor reel to chase these strong runs (50 m+ of backing) is advised. Stay patient and keep pressure; I tire after a few minutes. Remember to unhook me carefully and release quickly – roosterfish are a catch-and-release favorite, so handle gently and get me back in the water fast.

Embark on your Pacific Adventure

In the end, catching (or even sighting) a roosterfish is one of the ultimate inshore trophies for anglers. I’m not a commonly eaten fish – most of the time I’m quickly photographed and sent back to fight another day. We are not currently classified as endangered, but are subject to increasing fishing pressure. Thankfully, most anglers practice catch-and-release, recognizing my importance to the sportfishing community. Using appropriate tackle, minimizing fight times, and handling fish carefully during release are crucial steps in ensuring my survival.

Many anglers say that we roosterfish embody the spirit of adventure that draws them to the Pacific coastlines of Central America. My unique appearance, aggressive behavior, and challenging fight make them a must-target species for any serious saltwater angler. Whether you’re walking a beach in Baja or camping on a Costa Rica reef, watch for the flash of my comb in the surf!

Next in ‘Life history of a fish’

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By Scotty Kyle

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