A cod is a territorial ambush predator with a fixed home range, typically one prime snag, deep hole or undercut bank that it holds and will not share with another adult. It lies up out of the main flow so it can feed without spending energy, which is why the target is the slow, swirling “frog water” found most often toward the tail of a pool and below the main inflow, on the deeper bank, especially under heavy vegetation or a timber pile. It is not a fish of turbidity or lowland so much as of structure, food and a temperature window, which is why it persists in clear cool upland water where all three are present, and in clear water it relies on shadow, depth and geometry to ambush rather than on murk. A stream almost without flow in drought can still hold a cod that will take a surface fly.
It eats whatever is common: carp and redfin, yabbies, shrimp, frogs, the occasional lizard, snake or duckling, and cicadas off the top. The biggest fish are largest exclusively freshwater fish in the country, over a metre and thirty kilograms; in the New England district any fish over seventy-five centimetres is impressive. Numbers are generally better than fifty years ago thanks to research, conservation groups and better handling, though the species still sits at a fraction of its natural biomass and range, and cod in clean water die of oxygen deprivation as water warms fast far more often than of pollution.
The take is the thing to understand. A cod intercepts rather than chases, so the strike is a single explosion, the “boof” that sounds like a shotgun crack, with no visible pursuit before it. On a wet fly it almost always eats on the pause of a strip-strip-pause retrieve, and because it holds down hard on the fly it takes several firm strip-strikes to set the hook; an angler who lifts the rod trout-style misses solid fish. A cod will follow a fly a long way, to your legs, and commit on a following cast; missed or refused once, it may follow again with less enthusiasm each time and rarely commit. The fight is hard and fast and short: once beaten, it is done. Leaders of thirty pounds or heavier stop the bust-offs when a hooked fish dives back under a ledge. A two-hook stinger on an articulated fly noticeably cuts the short takes that big single hooks produce, and a deer-hair bug for cod needs a hook of proper wire, not the light stingers tied for bass. Fishing swings between long dead spells and sudden bursts regardless of what you change.
Low light is the surface hour, and in remote gorge pools cod keep taking surface flies after dark, the take announced by a gulp rather than seen. A couple of small pops and a pause on a surface fly is the opening move at first light. In cold gorge country cod stay sluggish until the sun has warmed the water through mid-morning, yet winter is often when the biggest fish feed most actively.