It was a typical early summer morning in
August. One could cut the air with a knife.
Not a ripple on the Indian River just east
of Titusville, Florida. My Hewes Redfisher
glided across the salty, pristine waters at
close to fifty miles per hour, but seemed we
were not moving. The glassy illusion of the
river blended with the morning horizon where
the heavens and earth became one.
Making a sharp left turn towards shore, I began
to cut back the throttle, letting the skiff settle
into eighteen inches of gin clear, quiet water. A
silence fell over the flats. My wife, Linda,
touched me on the shoulder, pointing out three
Roseate Spoonbills, as their reflections painted
an abstract watercolor on the river's slick canvas.
Gently, I climbed onto the poling platform and
she began to remove the light spinning rods from
their holders and put my fly rod together. Complete
silence is of the utmost importance here. Any noise
would spook our quarry for a long distance.
Poling the skiff southward and parallel to the
shoreline, it didn't take long before Linda
whispered, "eleven o'clock." I had been looking
toward the stern of the boat and didn't see the
rolling waters coming toward us. At least two
hundred redfish were pushing water into a massive
turmoil, disrupting the smooth surface of the river
and my heartbeat! They were heading right for us
and by the size of their "wakes," they were huge fish.
I quickly and quietly turned the skiff in the
same direction as the fish were swimming,
fearing the entire time, they would suddenly
spook and be a constant nagging memory for us
both. They didn't!
I was now kneeling on the tower thirty feet
from these bronze brutes! My heart was in my
throat and beating loudly enough to send the
school scattering!
Linda had caught many reds on light tackle in
her year and a half of being my wife and new
fishing partner. Never had I seen anyone learn
so quickly; the skill of handling ten to fifteen
pound fish on eight-pound tackle. But these guys
were not what she had ever experienced before.
These fish were in the forty to fifty pound class!
Seconds seemed as hours as I poled quietly with
the fish until I was sure they weren't skittish.
Linda turned to look my way and I nodded. She
fired the half-ounce gold spoon far across the
school and began to retrieve it underneath them.
When it reached the fish, they exploded! I held
my breath and she snapped the tip of the rod
several times, driving the hook deep in the jaw
of a red that was now blistering toward the sunrise.
All silence was now broken! The reel screamed,
Linda screamed, I screamed...we all screamed!
Almost an hour had passed when we managed to
get this monster close enough to get a really
good look. I got a net over his head and, with
help from an extremely excited wife, we
carefully hoisted him into the boat for a quick
measurement. Forty-eight and one half inches
long, fifty-three pounds, and dead batteries
in the camera! With a quick kiss on the top
of the old red's head for luck, Linda revived
him and he swam away. This was to be repeated
two more times that morning!
This is a true story and a not so uncommon
occurrence here in central Florida's Indian
River Lagoon.
The Indian River Lagoon is not really a river
at all, but a very important estuary and part
of our inter-coastal waterway. It is comprised
of three main bodies of water, the Banana River,
Indian River and Mosquito Lagoon. The northern
part of the "river" is where we mostly fish.
Flyfishing for reds is probably my favorite way
to fish for these bulldog fighters. Usually a
seven to nine weight rod with a weight forward,
floating line is more than enough, since open
water is the ticket here. Along with this, two
hundred yards of twenty-pound backing is standard
equipment. Oh yeah, and a good drag! In the fly
box, any type of shrimp imitation will work. These
fish will even take top water flies, but with
their turned-down mouth, it's comical to watch
them almost have to roll over on their backs to
take one. I tie a gold bend back pattern that I
have found to be very lethal.
Sight fishing is the exciting part. These guys
"tail" like bonefish and permit. A redfish that
has a crab or a shrimp cornered in a clump of
grass, in twelve inches of water, just has to
stick that red tail out of the water, thus,
giving up his location! The trick is to either
carefully and quietly pole up within casting
distance or wade to the tailing fish. The fly
placement has to be three or four feet past
the fish and, when stripped, has to be within
half a foot of his nose. Too far results in a
fish that doesn't see the fly, too close results
in an explosion of water and a very ticked off
redfish! Once spooked, forget that fish for a
few hours.
Light tackle is another way of taking these wary
creatures. Usually, we are armed with a seven-foot,
medium-light rod and a reel loaded with six or
eight pound test line. The running line is attached
to a twenty-four inch twenty pound leader. Our
preferred lure is a Johnson gold spoon, either
one half ounce or one quarter ounce, depending
on wind and depth of water. The same technique
is applied with spinning gear and flyfishing for
reds. The closer one can get the better. Accuracy
is the secret to getting the strike. I usually
tell people that fish with me, if they are able
to hit a five-gallon bucket at sixty feet, they
should do okay!
Several years ago, I became involved with an
organization that cut its teeth to protect the
redfish from over-fishing by the commercial
netters. A large red, say, over twelve pounds,
looses a lot of desire for table fare. They become
rather tough and tasteless. However, these larger
reds are the breeders that we need to keep in our
waters. The Florida Conservation Association (FCA)
was born, now known as the Coastal Conservation
Association of Florida. Many studies of over-harvest
by purse seine nets were causing a very noticeable
decline in the redfish population. About the same
time, someone came up with a recipe for "blackened
redfish." This opened up a whole new commercial
market for these large breeding sized reds. When
these fish begin their spawning, they congregate
in large schools and swim the coastlines on, or
near the surface. Being easy to locate from a
spotter aircraft, the pilot would simply give
the coordinates of the fish and the purse-seine
boats would literally scoop up the entire school.
Several years of this over-fishing went by and
the recreational fishermen went to the politicians
for help. However, several of the politicians,
here in Florida, had vested interests in the
commercial fishing industry. So, by pressure
from the CCA, many meetings with the top
government officials and other agencies, the
CCA was successful in closing the season on
redfish and having them put into a "gamefish
status."
As the years passed, the reds came back as
strong as ever. We have opened the season again
on the "keeper" sized fish. The slot limit is
no shorter than eighteen inches and not to exceed
twenty-seven inches and limited to one fish per
person per day. My personal "slot" is twenty-three
to twenty-seven inches. My wife Linda however,
is strictly release. After listening to me for
several years about my concerns of the reds, and
the fact that they "drum," she politely kisses
each one on the nose, wishes him well and turns
'em loose (she reminded me of my own boat rule,
"anglers' choice").
Now, I release my fair share of reds. However, I
will keep one for the table every once in a while.
These white fillets marinated in fresh lemon juice,
Louisiana Hot Sauce and a seasoning salt, dredged
in yellow corn meal then deep-fried in peanut oil,
well, you get the idea! Oh yes, they are excellent
on the grill, too! But, there's still the great
feeling one has just watching the red swim away.
So, if y'all get down here, or up here for that
matter, be sure to invest in a trip to the Indian
River Lagoon. Go ahead, pick a fight with our
Bronze Brutes of the Flats! ~ Flats Dude
|
