Friday, January 28, 2011

[fishingtheusaandcanada] When sun's shining, sweep of the tail gives a redfish away

 


http://www.statesman.com/sports/outdoors/when-suns-shining-sweep-of-the-tail-gives-1203077.html

COPANO BAY — Ratty, rotting duck blinds fade in and out of focus as our boat
slides past in the foggy haze that has settled on our secret fishing hole
north of Rockport.

The blinds seem to be moving past us, but it's just an illusion. I can feel
a mild breeze over my shoulder and hear the gentle crunch of oyster shell as
Chuck Naiser gingerly poles the bottom to keep the boat parallel to shore.

It is quiet. No buzzing outboards. No teeth-grinding airboats. Nothing but
the swish of the hull and from somewhere in the mist ahead, a tremendous
splash as a redfish smacks a mullet.

That was impressive, I think to myself, wishing the sun would break through
and give us a chance to see the fish. Naiser seems to read my mind. "These
fish back here have been really big," he says. "They're all 24 to 27 inches
long, and they've been here all winter. There have been days when I've spent
the entire day on one 300-yard piece of shoreline."

Trouble is, without the sun, anglers can't see the fish. And if you're fly
fishing for reds, you can't catch them if you can't see them.

We started the morning in bright sunshine, but just about the time we got to
our target area, we got the double whammy of low clouds and a touch of fog.
Occasionally we see huge "Vs" in the shallow water as redfish flee our boat.
Sometimes we even see the fish, almost invisible until we're on top of them.

"We just have to wait until the sun pops again," Naiser says. "They will
tail even in cold weather but without the sun to warm this shallow water I
don't think we're going to see them doing that."

Anglers watch shallow water in coastal bays for feeding redfish. When they
put their heads down to pick food off the bottom sand, their tails often
break the surface and give away their locations.

After 20 minutes of floating and waiting, the sun pops through, and the view
is startling.

Redfish are moving and feeding as far down the shore as we can see. "Here we
go," Naiser says. "This is what they've been doing all through the fall up
to now. There are lots of redfish, and this is going to be a great spring
and summer."

About 75 yards in front of the boat, a huge tail sweeps lazily through the
air. "There are at least two of them," Naiser says, "coming right at us."

Now here's the thing about casting to moving redfish. The boat is going
south. The fish are going north and slightly to one side. And I'm trying to
lay a fly six inches in front their noses, quietly, so they see the
chartreuse and white movement and think it's a fleeing bait fish.

I cast, but the fly lands slightly to one side and the pair just keep
moving.

"Re-cast," Naiser says. "Go left."

No chance. One of the fish sees the movement of my rod and in a spurt of mud
is gone to deeper water, taking his partner with him.

Stupid.

Naiser tries to coach me through it, but I still feel stupid.

At least until I spot the tail of another fish a bit farther down the shore.
This time I send a semi-decent loop swishing through the air to land beyond
the red, but on a direct line with the direction he's traveling. "Wait,
wait. Now, strip," Naiser says. He can see the fish much better from the
elevated casting platform and gives directions to get the fly right in the
fish's strike zone.

The strike is so fast, in fact, that I thought I'd foul-hooked the fish,
snagged the fly up against a pectoral fin or something. But that was wrong.
The redfish speeding across the flat has the fly in his mouth and the
7-weight rod bends double as I lean against the run to try to turn him.
Through the fly line and 10 yards into the backing he goes before turning
and rolling on the surface.

Now it's just a matter of patience until he's on his side at the boat and
posing for a picture before he's back in the water.

"Look at the colors on this fish," Naiser says. "The purple on his tail is
beautiful."

The sun is out. The tails are wagging. And all is right with the world.

mleggett@statesman.com


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