7/3/08  Greetings from Arroyo City. Capt. Randy here. Summer arrived some time ago and with it predictable weather patterns and low tides that give those of us who choose to sight fish a real advantage in our efforts. Speaking of choosing to sight fish, I have had a healthy mix of clients who have been fly fishing for years and are seasoned angers, and those who have recently joined me on the shallow waters of the LLM to make their first attempt at salt water fly fishing. .Jim Burkholder and Harry Sarles can be seen in this first photo. The were joined that day by their friend Gerry Whitson (not shown).They came down on a magical day that involved sight fishing to a number of redfish tails and wakes early in the morning in one of my favorite shallow west side venues. Our first stop of the morning was somewhat disappointing-the water was shallow and calm and there were a few reds waking. Jim caught one and we had another hookup that was short lived. Then it really turned off in this first venue. So we cut our losses and moved. Our second stop yielded a tailing redfish within a minute or two of shutting down. We poled briefly, then got out and waded using spoon flies and MDFs. We were not disappointed! We waded his west side backwater lagoon for two hours and all three gentlemen caught multiple reds. These veteran anglers proceeded to catch the heck out of the reds that afternoon on the east side sand in two different locations. When all was done, these anglers had caught a ridiculous number of fish that day. This spot we love so much is not about numbers, but it is fun to catch fish after fish until fatigue and glee set in. What a day we had!

In contrast to the veteran fly fishers I just described,  Barney Drozd called me one day and explained that he and his son had sight fished the LLM and he was very new to saltwater fly fishing. I love introducing people to this sport. In the last 3 months I have had over 15 clients catch their first redfish on a fly rod. Barney was one of those. We had a magical day. Tailing reds in the morning (you can see the fruit of Barney’s labor in the photo) and moving out on the sand in the afternoon. We started the morning in the same location that the previously described group had success just a day earlier. The first few tails and wakes we saw in that west side venue, holing 12 inches of water, were a bit intimidating to Barney and it took him just a little while to “find his groove”. In very little time Barney was confident and bold and successful in landing fish on a TFO 8wt. and a Kingfisher Spoon. Barney was new to the sport, but a tenacious angler. He willed himself to catch his first redfish on the fly rod and grew so much that day. I was proud to be a part of that event.

Jeff Presnal and his son Ryan fished with me just a few days later. We caught fish and had a great time together. You can see the fine fish Ryan caught out of a pod of redfish feeding frantically under laughing gulls. But what I really want to point out and honor today is their service to our country. Jeff spent his career serving our nation in the military. Ryan graduated from West Point only a few weeks ago and will soon be deployed. Thank you men. It was a pleasure to spend a day on the water with courageous gentlemen For those of you who are still attached to the fact that Ryan caught this fish under laughing gulls-yes, pods of redfish can still be found this time of year. You just have to know where to go or go out with a fly fishing guide who does!

The mid summer, lower water fishing patterns have begun in earnest. Capt. Scott and I have really been catching fish. More about this in our next report.


7/2/08 Capt. Scott here. The tides and winds have fallen during the last three weeks, and our fishing has entered the summer pattern. Our favorite, actually. But before the water fell, I had the privilege of guiding Jeff Presnal and his son Ryan, who has just graduated from West Point. The Presnals fished with me in one of our favorite spring venues, where we'd been finding a feeding school of above-average size reds every morning. We planed into the area before dawn and waited for the fish to reveal themselves. They typically lay low until the sun rises, and then it's fireworks as they begin sweeping around, exploding on finger mullet and shrimp. Ryan hooked up on a 27 inch red almost right off the bat.  We fished there for about three hours and then headed east where the sand turned on. Indeed, we had almost constant action on the sand to reds, trout and ladyfish. Ryan landed several reds, a couple of trout, and several ladyfish, and his dad did almost as well. I think Ryan would still be there if I hadn't "pulled the plug" around 4:30. It was an awesome day.

Instead of posting all of the photos pertaining to this report, I have prepared a series of photos that you can view by clicking this link.


A couple of days later, I guided my old client Doug Gauntt from Ft. Worth, and his brother Steve. Doug has been down here several times, usually with his wife Connie, but this time Steve joined Doug for three days of fly fishing. Steve is relatively new to fly fishing, but has advanced quickly due to his dedication to casting practice. If only all of our clients put in as much practice as Steve! Indeed, the two brothers landed about 20 reds every day for three days in a row. It was true that they had stellar weather the whole time, but they took advantage of everything that nature dealt them. To give you some idea of how good the sand action was, the last two fish that they caught on their second day were both oversized.  We released Steve's without measuring it, but Doug's measured 29 1/4 inches.  It was a pleasure guiding the Gauntts, and Doug and Connie will be back down here in late July.


Then Kathy and I hosted our old friend Jeff Pill, the well-known producer of the best fly fishing videos available, including Coastal Fly Fishing (available here through our online store), and his latest work, Why Fly Fishing?,  which was done for the American Museum of Fly Fishing, and has received rave reviews from numerous fly fishing publications. You have to get this video! It is exquisitely done, and very moving. You will want to give it to your friends. It's available from the Book Mailer. Anyway, Jeff left his cameras and crews at home, and spent four days with Kathy me-- fly fishing, eating fine food, and enjoying outings with our dogs on the Lower Laguna.  We had some great fly fishing on the east side--casting to schools of 50-100 fish-- and the west side, too, where we found tailing redfish and trout at daybreak. Jeff was able to see the LLM with fresh eyes, as an angler, rather than as a producer, and he was astounded by its beauty and its uniqueness as a fly fishery. I think he will be sending some of his friends down in the near future.


Just this past weekend, I guided Fred Closuit, along with his son (and two buddies) and friends Brian and Crawford. Rick Hartman and I switched off on the six-member party, so we each had a day on the water with the adults and the young men. The weather was not ideal by any means. It was windy at dawn, and the tide had come up, which is not a good thing in June. Even so, all of the guys hooked up, if not landed, reds, some of which were quite large. Indeed, Fred landed a 31-inch red on the second day after losing one that was about the same size. We were fishing a west-side venue that is usually too shallow this time of year.

6/7/08 Capt. Scott here. Before I commence with filling you in on some of my trips on the bay, I want to recognize Truett Cawlfield, Randy's son, for his prodigious fly fishing skills. For a teenager, Truett exhibits the skills of advanced fly fisher already. Fishing with his dad and grandad yesterday, Truett landed two reds over 30 inches (see photo) along with a bunch of other fish. I spoke to Randy after they had returned to the dock, and he was one proud father. Way to go, Truett!

This past week, I had the pleasure of guiding Richard and Alex Thompson, and Richard's son Ryan. Rick Hartman and I guided Richard and Alex last year, and they were completely taken by the beauty of the LLM even though the weather proved difficult for them. This year, however, the Thompsons dropped into the best stint of perfect weather that we've had in months.

Rick had the lead-off day with the Thompsons, so Kathy and I opted to fish the sand for fun during the same day. We headed out around 11 am, and went straight east of the mouth of the Arroyo, and shut down after blowing up a huge school of reds. Knowing full well that the prospect of chasing them down in 15 mph wind––where you really can't see the fish move after they settle down––was unlikely, we still opted to wade in the direction of their hasty departure, which proved to be upwind.

I like to fish upwind, because it offers a real casting challenge. The visibility was better upwind, as well, so I began to hike south while Kathy waded slowly downwind. There wasn't much to be seen, except the unparalleled beauty of the sand, brilliantly lit by full sun. I hadn't gone far before I began to see fish heading toward me from upwind -- singles and doubles. I got down on my knees and missed one shot, and then hooked up on 26 inch fish that had been accompanied by four or five others. Kathy saw me fighting the fish, so she headed upwind to snap a photo of the release. We proceeded upwind together, and we both had shots. I spotted a big red with some ladyfish, so I casted to the group of fish and stripped slowly -- a tactic designed to lure the red out of the pack, because ladyfish prefer a fast-stripped fly. Sure enough, the 27-inch red took the fly and headed west. He was so strong that I thought he'd spool me: It is amazing how hard the reds fight on the sand. Kathy snapped a photo of that fish, too, before she and headed further south. We landed in angling clover near the drum boats, catching another 7 reds and several ladyfish before we gave the dogs a needed romp and headed home.

Meanwhile, Rick had fished one of our mutually favorite westside lagoons and had a story to tell. Ryan, who had never caught a redfish, landed a 33-34 inch redfish on his second cast in saltwater! Rick estimated the fish to weigh around 15-17 lbs. An awesome catch for any angler, but for a first-timer, it's a record for Kingfisher guests.

The next day, I took the Thompsons into the same lagoon, where waded slowly into a mullet-infested area, hoping that the reds would start feeding. For a while, the reds were quiet, but as the sun rose higher, they began tearing up the water, feeding explosively on shrimp and mullet. There were probably hundreds of reds over a few acres of 10-12 inch water. The three men waded into the melee, and before it was over, they'd landed over a dozen reds on Kingfisher Spoons and Mother's Day Flies. There were some breakoffs on larger fish, and almost constant visible fish until nearly 11 am. It was memorable. Then we headed for the sand, where we picked up a few more reds and several ladyfish. We ended the day with over 20 reds.

Randy was guiding an old client, Jim Burkholder from Harlingen, and two friends. They fished at another of our favorite westside venues, and the area proved too shallow to support the pods that we'd been finding at daybreak. But Randy relocated and hit paydirt. His guys fished tailing reds for several hours, and then headed to the sand where they did quite will. By the end of the day, his guys had landed over 20 reds, too.

The Thompsons and I returned to same lagoon the next morning, and waded into the same general area. The reds did not, at first, materialize, but as we waded along a shoreline, the water suddenly exploded ahead of us. Clearly, a large school had begun feeding within 100 yards. We waded into the area, and got shot after shot for quite a while. We landed quite a few reds before heading northeast onto the sand, where Alex distinguished himself by landing several more reds.

It's a always a pleasure guiding the Thompsons. They appreciate the whole scene––the birds, the clear water, the comraderie, the fish, and the palpable presence of something greater than we are.

5/21/08 Capt. Scott here. Kathy and I just returned from the annual Expo of the Gulf Coast Conclave Conclave of the Federation of Fly Fishers in Lake Charles, Louisiana. We don’t get out to the shows as much as we used to, but Kathy was invited to speak at an outreach luncheon sponsored by the Texas Women Fly Fishers, and I was invited to join the fly tiers for two days of demonstration tying, and give a presentation of my own to the conference attendees. We were able to reconnect with many of our old friends, and will most likely attend next year’s conference in Lake Charles.

Randy and I have been on the water a great deal. Unfortunately, that leaves little time for story telling, much less getting the sleep we need. Nonetheless, there’s lots to tell. As the Good Doctor once said, “Wonders are willingly told, and willingly heard." That is, unless you’ve got your own fish story to tell, and you’re just waiting for the other guy to finish his. But there’s no other guy here right now, and so I can indulge myself a degree of slow-paced selective reminescence.

The birding action was short-lived this spring. However, we have stumbled onto some regularly tailing pods of especially large redfish that have saved us and our clients from disappointment in the past three weeks. We should be entering the calmer season, but that's always a relative term. Fortunately, the sand action has been good to phenomenal this spring. Randy and I have consistently found abundant reds on the sand from midday to late afternoon northeast of the mouth of the Arroyo, on just about any sunny day. Using bonefish flies, Clousers and spoon flies, our clients have enjoyed classic sight casting in the area of the Mother Lagoon that most people who have never been here just cannot believe until they see it. Fifty miles long, and from a mile to two miles wide, a bottom that is so firm you’d hurt yourself if you fell on it, and fish that you can see from 75 yards away under a full sun. It’s Kathy’s and my favorite venue, and we can spend hours in a virtual trance stalking reds, trout, and ladyfish in this Bahamas-like setting.

Several moments during the last month will stay with me. For one, wading with young Tower Cook and his father Dave in one of our favorite remote west-side lagoons. Tower was fishing his second day with me, staying true to his fly rod when most of his buddies from north Texas had opted for spin gear. I was wading with Tower into an incredible melee of feeding redfish in bootie deep water. They were tailing and milling around, blowing up here and there on shrimp. Tower and I stood in one spot for over an hour and a half just waiting for the next big red to saunter in our directions. The thing that made this whole familiar scene especially memorable was Tower’s commitment to fly fishing. Only 100 yards away we could hear the delighted cries of one of his friends and his father hooking and landing one redfish after another on spin gear.  Tower stuck with it, though, and managed to have three takes from hungry reds that somehow eluded the sharp end of the fly. When he returned to the dock, he had nothing obvious to show for all of his effort. But he thanked me sincerely for a wonderful day.

I have a son who fly fishes, and will do nothing else. Last summer, he fished three long days with me and watched his father catch one fish after another. I offered to stop fishing, but that just made him mad. He didn't want me to stop succeeding, he just wanted to join me. Ryan went three days without landing a redfish in windy, difficulty conditions. And then, on the fourth day, he caught a single red, which made him happier than I’d seen him in a long time. There are all kinds of psychological tests that one can use to determine aspects of the personality. But I say to you, there is no better test of character than the one that Tower and my son passed with flying colors on the Lower Laguna. Tower’s father supported him in his “irrational” commitment to the challenge, knowing full well that he was witnessing a rare thing in today's world: a young man who was willing to postpone gratification in the pursuit of excellence.

(Some of my photos have been lost inexplicably, and so these initial shots are taken from previous trips.)

Two days later, I guided Greg Shaw from Ft. Worth. Greg had never fly fished the Lower Laguna until the day before we’d met. He’d had the privilege of fishing with Eric Glass, a local legend of a guide, and a great guy, too. 

Our day began in the same lagoon where Tower Cook and his dad waded with me only a few days earlier. Greg and I poled into the lagoon with a slight westerly wind making it a bit tough to keep the Curlew going forward. There were few fish to be seen, but I had hopes that the reds were congregated in the back of the lagoon, so I kept poling and chatting with Greg, who was thoroughly enjoying the morning. The wind gradually died, and we looked ahead into the bright mirror of calm water, and began spotting the first of hundreds of tails that greeted us as we moved further into the back lagoon. Before long, we were having to choose between half a dozen pods that were within 50 yards. Greg began casting and hooking up, and the day began to feel like a good dream. He got off the Curlew for a while, but found the wading difficult; the water was so calm that it was hard to get close to the feeding fish. After landing one red while wading, Greg returned to the boat and resumed sightcasting from the platform. After a while, we both began to hear the explosive sounds of feeding fish over 200 yards away. We squinted into the glare, and could see finger mullet erupting from porpoising reds, which were driving the baitfish into critically shallow water. I knew that we had to go there. So we staked the boat, and hiked toward the shoreline. It was hard to believe, but the reds were in sub-bootie depth water, cruising around with their backs out of the water and slamming into the schools of nervous mullet. It was tough fishing! The water was murky from all of the commotion, and it was nigh impossible to get the big reds to see the fly. Finally Greg literally dragged it over the back of an approaching 28+ inch red, and the fish lunged for the spoon fly. Alas, Greg lifted the rod like any mere mortal would, and the red surged forward and began circling at our feet, looking for the escapee. It was real fun.

Later, we headed for the sand under a cloudless sky, and stopped north of Green Island. It was shallow enough to fish near the edge of the grass, and that’s where we found the fish. Sting rays were quite plentiful, and every ray had fish behind it. Most of them were ladyfish, but a fair number were reds. Greg caught some more reds in perfect conditions before we had to head in.

I don’t think I’ve seen a happier angler at the end of the day. Not just because he caught fish, but because the day was literally perfect in all ways. There is an old custom, familiar but incomprehensible to most Gentiles, of breaking a wine glass at a Jewish wedding. I finally heard the explanation for that custom. Apparently, there is a concern that any “perfect moment” opens us up for the darker side of life, as if to say that there’s always something out there that would love to spoil our happiness. Breaking the glass renders the moment intentionally imperfect and thus preserves the goodness from the inherent threat of being in a hostile world. Greg and I didn’t need to break a glass, but we did share stories about imperfect choices that, in retrospect, may have kept the day in a spendidly unsullied state.

Last weekend, my brother Chip joined Kathy and me for an early morning on the water. Kathy hadn't fished in months because her thesis had monopolized her free time.  We headed for a westside venue, where Randy was fishing just a couple of hundred yards away with a client. It was already windy at daybreak, but podding reds had "saved" us for the last few weeks in this particular venue. We got out of the boat, told the dogs to stay put, and waded into a lagoon that's about two miles long and a mile wide.

Almost immediately, we began to see tailing pods sweeping toward us from the north. We started off with VIPs, but the reds were very spooky and ran from the poppers. We switched to Mother's Day flies, and I lost one and had two pods disappear when the fly hit the water.  Why were they so touchy? Because half of them were oversized reds, as we were soon to find out.

A plane flew over, and the noise sent two wakes in my direction. By then, I'd switched to a size 6 Clouser, thinking that small might be better. I put the fly ahead of one of the wakes, and hooked a red that I fought for nearly half an hour. It turned out to be about 30 inches long. We photographed it and released it just in time for Kathy to see a pod heading her way. She, too, had switched to a tiny Clouser, which was fortunate, because she had to backcast to the approaching fish in a crosswind. A very large red took the fly, but its size wasn't immediately evident. Alas, Kathy put a bit too much pressure on the fish, and suddenly it revealed its size in a blistering run that borke her tippet. I knew better than to try to make her feel better, but so I just listened. Fortunately, she landed a nice red a while later, taking the edge off of the earlier disappointment. I waded back toward the boat, and spotted two tails heading my way. A pair of big reds were tag teaming each other across the flat. I hastened to get ahead of them, and casted crosswind to the nearer fish. Again, it was a big one -- 28 3/4 inches, as it turned out. I led the fish back to the boat where Chip snapped this photo of our three dogs getting into the action.


4/20/08 Capt. Scott here. I have been a bit remiss in keeping you posted of our exploits. Randy had sent me his April 6 report long ago, but computer problems kept me from updating the fishing report until now. Instead of writing a lengthy report about my own past month of activity, I’ve included a few of the photos that I have taken of clients, along with a brief description of each. Randy and I will endeavor to stay abreast of the report through the spring and summer now that our computer issues have been resolved.

4/6/08 Greetings from Arroyo City. Capt. Randy here. Well, springtime birding has now turned on  and the action is fast and furious. In the past eight days this springtime phenomenon has begun in earnest. What a treasure! This is what makes April and early May the busiest time of the year for Kingfisher Inn.  As regular readers of this fishing report already know, springtime in our neck of the woods (or bay) brings rising water temps, which triggers the migration of juvenile shrimp from west side lagoons into the main bay, which triggers feeding pods of redfish, which triggers aggressive, low flying (hovering) laughing gulls that swoop down to pick off fleeing shrimp and, in some cases, well casted flies. I began my official spring guiding season last week with a delightful couple named John and Donna Kimball. We spent two days moving south and north through two   of my favorite west side locations in search of redfish pods. You can see some of the fruit of our labor-John casting under the gulls, then holding the fine fish he caught out of that pod.

The third picture is of the Wojciks, who I had the pleasure of guiding on Sunday. While they were not new to fly fishing, they had not had any experience with reds on the fly. We went in search of podding and birding early in the morning and were not disappointed. The Wojcik’s needed a little time to get their casting technique back and before we knew it the pods went away as fast as they came. Licking our wounds from an opportunity we did not take advantage of, we went in search of reds on one of my favorite shorelines. Because it is one of my favorites, I cannot reveal its exact location, but I will say that it parallels the ICW and sets up perfectly for poling and fly fishing with our predominant southeast wind. We found a gold mine that day and spent the next six hours poling the same flat three separate times. We had shot after shot at reds from the boat. You see the fruit of our efforts-Ed’s first redfish on a fly. It was a stellar day.


Podding and birding has just begun and will be hot for the next six weeks. If you intend to fish with Capt. Scott or me this summer give us a call soon. We would love to get you on the calendar. We do still have a few days here and there on Scott’s and my April and May calendar so call soon if you want to get down here for some exciting “birding action”.





4/20/08 As promised, here are some of my photos from the past month -- Capt. Scott

	Jennifer and James Sander joined me on the water in late March for an awesome day. Dead calm conditions and tailing pods greeted us at daybreak. James had never caught a redfish on his fly rod, and landed two before the day was done. His sister Jennifer kept pace with her spin rod. It was a great day.
	I had the pleasure of guiding Shaun Daniels, his son-and-law Brandon, and Brandon’s father Dave in late March. We got into incredible birding action over large pods of 15-30 fish. It was an embarassment of riches, but a well-deserved gift to Brandon, who had just returned from service in Afghanistan. Dave caught two reds around 28 inches as Brandon caught his first redfish.
	Ruthie and Gary Cooper from California spent about a week with us, fishing with Rick Hartman, Randy, and myself.  It was real pleasure hosting the Coopers, who are not only fine anglers, but great company, too. They saw some classic birding and west side podding action during their stay.
	Some of our favorite "old" clients are Chuck Thomas from Midland, and his sons Zack and Charlie. Chuck keeps trying to catch the perfect day (with my suggestions about when to come) only to catch wind in the face. Still, the Thomas's are hunters by nature, and accept the hand they are dealt. Here's Charlie with one of the first 3 reds he had ever caught on his fly rod (a recent convert), and a black drum that he caught on the sand just today, April 20.

4/4/08 Capt. Scott here. For those of you who read my two-part article in the Jan-Feb and March-April issues of Tide magazine, you may recall that the concept of “extramarginal” waters varies according to the tidal rythmns. This time of year, “extreme” shallow fly fishing can be found on the easternmost sand, below the shelf that defines the edge of the upper sand, which is currently only wet, and barely submerged.

My recollections over the past two weeks will begin on the sand, and then cast back into some of the best fishing that I’ve ever seen in mid- to late March on the west side. This past Sunday, I took my old friends Scott Patton and Vince Wiseman from Austin out before daybreak to hit the westside birding action, which was “on.” We each caught a couple of nice reds out of small to middle-size (6-20) pods that were working under single or small groups of laughing gulls. The action peetered out around 9:30, so we headed immediately onto the shallowest sand that we could access in the Curlew. We ran slowly into the shallowest reaches of the vast expanse that a friend calls the “great sand barrier” between Mansfield and the Saucer, and started seeing single large reds blowing up in the sand and heading for deeper water. There weren’t many, but I knew that the fish would be coming onto the sand, if they followed the usual pattern from March to late May. So I took a wide circle into almost non-navigable water, and looped back west toward 10 inches of water where I’d have a chance to get back up on plane later. We shut down and began to wade downwind, and  back to the east. When I headed back to the boat four hours later, I could barely see the boat. The fishing had been that good.

The wind was already over 15 mph, and heading toward 20, so the sand a bit churned up, but still clear enough for sight casting. We don’t worry about wind as long as we have the sun and clear water, which we did, so we were happy.

I waded in the deepest water, Vince was to my right, and Scott was in the shallowest and clearest water -- about 8 inches deep. After about an hour of watching Scott cast and hookup, Vince and I figured we’d better move over. We’d been getting plenty of shots, but the murkiness of the water made it difficuilt to place the fly close enough for the fish to see. If we casted too close, the fish spooked. So we had plenty of missed opportunities. But as we waded around the backside of Scott, the water becam clearer, and about three inches shallower. It was hard to believe that the reds were preferring the almost-too-shallow conditions, but again as I’ve said in the article, feeding reds like water that’s almost too shallow to support them.

Before long, we were all casting to reds from 24-26 inches. Scott landed 14 reds, while Vince and I did well, but never came close to catching up. The action was so good that it is difficult to describe. Wading barefoot in 8 inches of water, spotting reds at 60-70 yards out cruising upwind and feeding aggressively. Casting tiny flies on your knees. I think we landed 21 reds before we went in around 2:00. Pretty good for a windy day in March, right?

Scott Patton’s secret (prodigious skill aside) was using a small size 8 bonefish pattern with beadchain eyes. He was able to cast the fly close to the fish without spooking them. The sand under such conditions is the most sensitive venue imaginable. It will make you a better angler, and a more humble human being.

I will be updating the report retrospectively throughout the day, so check back in to read about the last two weeks. It’s been a great early season!

3/10/08 Capt. Scott here. Capt. Randy is in north Texas speaking at a couple of fly fishing events, and I’m off to Virginia tomorrow for a few days to see my son and to teach a seminar. Meanwhile, we are both gearing up for a lot of guests who will soon be descending on south Texas from mid-March onward. We hope you can make it down this year.
    Jim Posgate called me last Tuesday and asked me how the fishing was. He’d been in town for a couple of days and was wondering if I was free to guide him. A fresh cold front had just blown through, but it was already sunny. We agreed that the next day could be the sweet spot between two spring time fronts, so we made plans to go out at a gentlemanly hour of 8:30 the next morning. It was already warm enough to leave the waders behind, but we both layered for the 15 mile ride east and south toward my favorite spot this time of year. As long as the tides haven’t risen, the fishing tends to be better south of the Arroyo, for reasons stated previously (see reports below). The tides were critically low, and so I didn’t want to risk crossing some of the shallowest areas of the west bay. We took the long way around, and arrived in a foot of clear water without a boat in sight by 9:15. Wakes moved ahead of us––not many but enough to justify poling westward into even shallower water. The wind was  only about 10 mph, so there was plenty of glassy water in between rough strips. After a few minutes, we moved further west into water that would have stopped most boats. We shut  down after moving a few pods. This time, after giving the fish a few minutes, we saw what we’d been hoping to see––the crash of a large of pod of feeding reds about 100 yards from the boat. The turtle grass was so thick that I couldn’t pole the Curlew over it, so I got behind the boat and pushed it toward the commotion.  Jim stood on the bow and scoped the horizon until he spotted the tips of tails above the glass. I staked the boat, and urged him to go ahead of me. Within minutes, the lagoon started to come alive as I’d hoped it would. Single reds began to appear, snaking across the surface, with their backs and tails showing. Jim crouched low and casted to one again and again, finally lining it and spooking it and a close neighbor who reacted on the sound alone. Jim yelled something I won’t repeat and then settled back into the groove of an angler who knew what he’d done wrong and set about to remedy the situation.

Jim and I fish together when he doesn’t have a guest, so I grabbed my rod and moseyed out to the side, watching Jim fish. He locked onto another red that suddenly appeared snaking through the turtle grass, and carefully casted to him several times before the big  fish turned toward him. The fish was no more than 20 feet from Jim when it spotted the Mother’s Day Fly and took it explosively. After Jim landed and released the  26” red, we turned eastward, and saw groups of fish spreading out as far as we could see. Small pods swept around, while larger groups of 20-30 were tailing en masse. It was tough fishing, however, because the fish were moving so much that it was easy to line them. And if you lined any of them, you lined all of them.  Indeed, it was deafening when a large group got fed up and left the area. It was, as you might imagine, pretty much fun.

We both landed several nice reds in the 24-26” range, and then headed east onto the sand in the afternoon. We got there as the sun was started to decline and throw quite a glare onto the water, so it  wasn’t easy to see the fish. But we both had several good shots, catching none, before we called it a day and headed northwest toward the mouth of the Arroyo and a hot cup of coffee. It’s always a pleasure guiding Jim. He knows what matters.

You would think that I’d had enough for a while, but the sand action tantalized me. So on Saturday, as Kathy put the finishing  touches on her thesis and I mailed off a paper that I’d been laboring over for months, I decided to take the dogs and try the sand in the mid-afternoon. It’s always warmer over land, so I made the mistake of not taking my windbreaker. I had my fleece on, but the cool wind can cut right through fleece, so when I got out there, I realized it was going to be a chilly wade. No waders, and a chilly 20 mph  southeast wind.  But the sky was cloudless.

I planed over miles of critically low water toward a particular spot where I thought they would be, and sure enough I started seeing reds just as I reached the area. I casted from the boat for a while (postponing the chilly wade) until the sheer numbers of fish in crytal clear calf-deep water prompted me to slip overboard. Within half an hour, I’d landed three nice reds, hooked two more and could have caught as many as I’d wanted.  They were all over my flies, and would come from several feet away to inspect the fly on the drop. These fish were definitely in their springtime mode.  It was fun, but I was more than satisfied, so I began wading back against the wind. Our dog Rosie saw me coming, and jumped in the water to come get me. It’s nice to feel wanted, and even nicer to have three dogs that will wait patiently for their romp while I fish.

2/28/09  Capt. Scott here. Sorry it’s been so long since we’ve had a report, but between forgetting my camera twice when guiding, and not being able to take pictures of my own fish, there hasn’t been a lot to show you. But that’s going to change.
    This time of year is a crap shoot with the weather, and it’s easy to be pessimistic if all you do is  look at the trees blowing through the window, feel the chill in the air, and go back to sleep.  Fishing tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy; that is, if you think it’s going to be bad, and you don’t check it out, you’re free to nurse that theory all you want. However, the thing about guiding people who fly into south Texas from other states, and have spent a small fortune getting here, is that you can’t afford to act on your pessimism. Like yesterday. A strong cold front had blown through on Tuesday, and when I awoke on Wednesday, it was in 40s, and the wind was blowing out of the northeast. I hate to admit it, but I wanted to stay under the covers. But I also know that the last time I wanted to whimp out turned out to be a stellar day. Shaun and Mickey, you remember that one. . So, after postponing our departure for an hour to give the sun time to shine its merciful rays upon us, I picked up Bob Engel from north Texas, and his buddy Rod from Alaska, and headed east. We were all layered and decked out in our waders and hooded jackets.

It was a beautiful day except for the chill. I ran south and east and moved flocks of ducks ahead of us. I was pleasantly surprised that a few reds scurried ahead of the boat, already feeding in a foot of water. But there weren’t many, so I headed further south where I tend to fish in the winter and early spring before the tide rises. We planed over barely submerged turtle grass, and there wasn’t a bit of life to be seen. However, my standard plan is to head south until I meet the fish that are heading for water that is warming faster than the surrounding flats because of the thick mat of turtle grass that absorbs the sun’s rays.

Suddenly, we were blowing up big reds, so I shut down, happy to be there. After all of that private whining, I was feeling quite optimistic, and I never let on that I didn’t think we had much of a chance on such a cold, breezy morning.

We hadn’t been at rest for more than a minute before we started seeing reds cruising on top. Two passed by the boat, and another swam up with dorsal and tail showing. It was hard to tie the flies on the tippets, because we were gawking at the very visible fish sauntering by. Finally, Bob climbed into the casting platform, and I started poling downwind. We had a good mile of consistent foot-deep water, so if there were reds there, we’d have almost constant action, assuming they were spread out.

We were still getting ready when the first two reds swam right up to the boat, and turned slowly away. They were still less than 20 feet away when Bob plunked the Kingfisher Spoon in front of one of them. The 25 1/2 inch red swam up and ate the spoon while Bob was still collecting his line and strip. I could see the red chewing, so to speak, so I was trying hard not to yell. There was nothing to worry about, though, because the fish had taken the spoon deeply. Bob’s first redfish on a fly. What a way to start a “hopeless day,” right?

Rod almost caught one on the boat, and had several good shots when I finally said that it was  time to wade. It’s always hard pulling the plug on what could have been a productive strategy, but there were so many fish, and we had two anglers. I don’t think they regretted the decision. The fishing was not easy, but we had almost constant actoion for hours. Wading downwind, we stuck to large patches of glassy water, such that the tails and backs for the redfish could be seen for over 100 yards. There were some big fish swimming around, looking like beavers with most of their body above the water. It was fun.

Rod got his first red on a fly a bit later. We were wading together, and it was a blast watching the fish in the crystal clear water, ambling away, and then turning back without concern over our presence. Rod made a great cast, and then the fish followed the fly for about 10 feet before he ate it. We almost needed a defribillator.

It turned out to be a great day, and it was in the mid-60s before we headed in. Great company, lots of fish, a cloudless sky, and a guide who couldn’t roll over and go back to sleep.



1-7-08 Happy New Year to you all from Kingfisher Inn. Lydia and I (Capt. Randy Cawlfield) are so happy to start a new year as inn proprietors and hope you find time to get down here and fish with me or Capt. Scott Sparrow in 2008. The phone has already begun ringing and soon our April calendars will be full. So call early this year!

I just finished a long stretch of days on the water with clients who wanted to get some post-Christmas fishing and hunting in before the holidays are over. So, I have been working hard since December 27th and am now sitting down to give you a report of what has been going on at the Inn.

Fly fishing has been superb on the days marked by a warming trend on the bay. We have had some almost windless, sunny days when the hungry, feeding reds couldn’t help but “expose” themselves. I’m talking about tailing reds on the Westside beginning early in the morning and lasting as long as the wind stayed down-even long after the sun became high. The bay is so low with our wintertime falling tides that sight fishing, if one has the boat (like a Curlew) to get shallow, is a real pleasure. The central bay, normally too deep for our target driven sight fishing, is a great venue this time of year. Water that I was motoring right over two months ago is now a prime spot to find tailing fish in the mornings and a great venue for poling and sight fishing once the sun is high overhead.

I had a great time with clients Doug Daman and Kevin Groth a few days ago. The reds were not hard to find during their stay, but were very wary and required stealth and patience. We poled and waded to many distant fish only to find them disappear once we closed the gap to an acceptable casting distance. Even so, Doug and Kevin both landed fish during their stay and had a great time seeing the bay in her wintertime state.

This picture shows Kevin with a big red he landed after stealthily wading and casting to a tail that would show itself, then disappear for a minute at a time. I watched as Kevin patiently casted, then waited on this one fish for approximately 10 minutes before finally being rewarded with a hookup.

I want to take a moment to brag on my beautiful wife, Lydia. We have four children at home and I am a little embarrassed to say that I have used a busy family schedule as an excuse to not take my wife fishing until New Year’s Eve. The day was beautiful and we finally got out on the Curlew and Lydia had her first opportunity ever to sight fish. You see the fruit of her labor in this photo. The boy in the picture is our proud son, Truett. Lydia caught this red on a gold spoon and is now, by her own admission, ready to begin fly fishing.

These last pictures show Lou Purvis, Jeremy Purvis, and Jimmy Ferell on a successful duck hunting weekend here on the LLM. We went into one of my favorite Westside duck hunting spots and were rewarded with great flights of ducks. These three young men were a pleasure to be around during their two days of hunting. High wind minimized their opportunies to fly fish. The great duck hunting made for a superb weekend nonetheless.

The duck hunting season down here lasts through January 27th. So, call me and get down here soon if you are in for some late season hunting. The birds are still down here by the tens of thousands.


12/25/07 Capt. Scott here. Merry Christmas! It’s a beautiful day here––a sunny day in the 70s. It’s time for family, not fish, but I do have some time to bring you up to date with the fly fishing on the Lower Laguna.

I have been on the water only about eight days in the past month, but we’ve had some great fishing. Ten days ago, I guided Shaun Daniels and his friend Geoff from Wimberley. Shaun has a place on the Island, and has fished with me before, but Geoff had never fly fished the Lower Laguna. Shaun had told him about how unique the LLM is compared to the mid- and upper coast, but it’s hard to believe until you see it. Fortunately, we had a stunningly beautiful day. We left the dock at around 7:30 and headed south and east of the mouth of the Arroyo. We planed across a glassy surface, moving the flocks of redheads into a slightly foggy haze. There was no horizon, only a bright whiteness that was almost blinding. Geoff began to express awe at the combination of gin clear water and the vast unbroken horizon. He was already happy, and he hadn’t yet wet a line. When someone reacts to the LLM’s beauty like that, I know we’re in for a good day, whether we catch fish or not.

We fished South Cullens Bay, because it tends to fish well in the winter time. A gradual decrease in depth combined with a turtle-grass covered bottom creates a thermal transition that is attractive to the game fish on clear days when the sun can warm the shallows quickly. Indeed, the reds tend to come from deeper water into the shallowest parts of South Cullens, which are largely inaccessible to most boats. We were all alone, except for a couple of kayakers who had parked their boat in deeper water, and deployed their yaks for shallower angling.

I poled Shaun and Geoff for about three hours. We had some pretty good tailing action, but the reds were into high-stealth mode, and it was hard to keep them in our sights, even in shallow, glassy water. After getting a few shots at singles, Jeff finally had a chance at a small pod of reds that were showing only the tips of their tails as they snaked through the water. He landed a 23-24 inch red and was about as happy as anyone I’ve ever guided. Jeff was definitely into the quality of the angling, and wasn’t concerned at all about whether he’d catch another fish.

The wind roughed up the water a bit, and the redfish became increasingly difficult to see, so I decided to check out the east side, hoping for a die-for condition that we sometimes get on a warm winter day––reds on the sand. We planed across Gas Well Flats into hundreds of reds that were  shooting ahead of the boat across the glassy expanse. The tide was a bit high for wading the grassy area, however, so I kept going until we planed onto the sand. There were fewer fish there––a mixture of reds, sheepshead and black drum–– but there seemed to be enough to justify a wade. The sun was peeping out, and the sand was so beautiful that it was intoxicating to wade through the shimmering water. After wading for about an hour, I decided to move, since the guys hadn’t had many shots. On the way back to the boat I called Randy, who had tried to reach me earlier when we were underway. He told me that he’d spoken to our fellow guide Kenny Smith, who had been out fishing on his own that day and had gotten into some tailing action in another part of the bay. I thanked Randy for the tip, and picked up my guys and headed for the spot where Kenny had fished earlier.

When we arrived, tails began poppling up almost as soon as we shut down. I poled downwind into a slightly shallower area, and we began seeing pairs and small pods of tailing reds. For the next hour or so, we casted to one group after another from the boat. The bottom was a bit soft, so the guys opted for casting from the boat as I moved us from one pod to another. Geoff distinguised  himself by catching a red that was between 27 and 28 nches long. I don’t know who was happier––Geoff, who had succeeded on his first visit to the LLM, or Shaun who had introduced his buddy to his favorite waters.

I’ve been out more recently with my son Ryan, who is visiting from Virginia. Ryan is a dedicated fly fisher, and has done remarkably well on the LLM in spite of the fact that he gets so little practice. We went out twice this past week, and did pretty well, especially on the second day where we found the reds congregated along the edge of the sand southeast of the  Arroyo’s mouth. We left the dock around 1:00 on a windy but sunny afternoon, hoping to find the fish on the sand. The tide had fallen another six inches since I’d guided Shaun and Geoff.  The water levels from late December through February are the lowest that we have all year. Very few boats can access even 30% of the bay, so having a Curlew is quite an advantage. We planed over thick turtle grass toward the sand, moving groups of 10-50 reds as we went. My goal, as always, was not just to find fish––that’s easy––but to find fish in less than 18 inches of water so we could target them on foot.

We stopped near the drum boats east of Three Islands, and slipped overboard. Within minutes, groups of reds were sweeping toward us in the clear water. The surface was so unbroken that it was hard to see the reds through the glare. The wakes told us about where they  were, but they were moving so fast that it was hard to get the fly in the right spot. Still, we landed five reds in that one area before the action fell off. Pretty good for a spontaneous outing on a winter afternoon, right?

Winter fishing can be as good as it gets. It’s just a matter of fishing the sun on warming days. You don’t have to get up early to do well, just make sure you’re there from 9:00 to 3:00 during cloudless days. Of course, having a good guide can make the difference.

11/22/07 Capt. Scott here.  It’s Thanksgiving Day, and a fresh cold front just swept through after about two weeks of very warm weather. I was in Virginia last weekend, but before that I guided two long weekends and didn’t have time to write a fishing report. Here are a few images and snippets from the last few trips I’ve had. This report may not be as current as I would like it to be, but the conditions we’ve had have been, and remain, fairly stable. Water temps have hovered in the mid-70s for over two weeks, and we’ll see a gradual decline in temps as January approaches. But the fishing until mid-January should be similar to what we’ve had. The wild card, of course, is the weather. Cold fronts don’t shift our water temperatures very dramatically, as a rule, this time of year. But the reversal of wind is a significant factor when it comes to sight casting. As the sun sinks to its lowest point in the southern sky, it becomes increasingly important to have a southerly wind, so we can wade and pole away from the low-angled sun. Also, the midday sight casting  window is shorter, given the sun’s trajectory. Whereas in the summer, we sight cast effectively from 9 until 3, the sunshine around the solstice limits our effective window to about 10-2:00.  If we don’t have tailing at daybreak, then we may spend several hours struggling  with low light conditions until we reach the effective window around 10:00 am.
    With this in mind, it’s good to know that the reds tail all winter long during low-wind days. There’s a myth that says that the reds leave the bay in the winter, which is completely wrong. And another myth that says that they don’t tail, which is equally in error. These myths are promulgated by people who don’t fish in the winter, and would rather believe that the fishing is  poor in order to justify their absence. It’s very human to believe that if we aren’t there, there  can’t be anything to see. But that’s  another essay.
    I had the privilege of guiding my “old” client Sam Fason, and his fellow physician Fred Vorhees from Austin. Sam has had  some great days down here during the last two years, catching 23 reds on a single October morning.  Hoping to catch the same conditions, Sam brought Fred down around the first of November.
    We started off in the same lagoon where Sam did so well before. It was almost dead calm as we shut down in the twilight, and began poling a shoreline where we hoped to find tailing reds. We weren’t disappointed. Reds started tailing and chasing shrimp in about a foot of water, making it easy to track them in the calm water. Both men scored from the bow of the boat before we’d gone very far. Fred, however, had never caught a red on fly, so he faced a bit of a learning curve as we poled into one tailing red after another. When he finally scored, he hooked up on a 28 1/2 inch red that had been tailing in our vicinity for half an hour. The big fish took the tiny Clouser almost without missing a step, as Fred masterfully placed the fly over the shoulder of the big fish as it ambled away from us. What a way a start, right?!
    Before long, we opted to wade, since there were so many reds tailing with their backs out of the water. Sam landed a couple more on Mother’s Day Flies before the wind came up and put the fish down.
    We headed north, and fished from the bow, hoping to find pods along western shoreline. Before long, tails were popping up everywhere, and we proceeded to have shot after shot at singles and small pods that were feeding aggressively on white shrimp. As I recall the men used Mother’s Day Flies and Kingfisher sppons. Sam ended up landing several more, and Fred added to his catch, as well.
    On our second day out, we found good tailing action on the sand around 10:00 am. The men opted to wade, and spent about three hours wading slowly westward. It was most constant action, even though the tails were spread out. Fred, who was still new to saltwater fly fishing seemed to really enjoy the hunting aspect of stalking fish on the sand.
    A few days later, I guided another old client, Kirk Brown, who hadn’t been down to fly fish since last April. The first day out, Kirk and I fished the sand early, and switched to the west side in the early afternoon.
    We found tons of  reds early, but they just wouldn’t tail. We kept relocating northward until we found tailing action near the East Cut. He stalked several reds in dead calm conditions, and landed a couple before we headed west. The wind came up during the late morning, and it actually helped us find fish on the west side. Indeed, the gulls began working over pods around 2:00, and we were able to pole down and wade to several before they played out. Kirk had a lot of fun catching reds, a trout, and a couple of ladyfish that were all feeding under the birds. He ended up the day with seven or eight reds.
    The next morning, the wind was completely calm, so we  headed for the same lagoon where Sam, Fred, and I had started off a few days before. Again, we were almost immediately into major tailing action. Three out of four of the first reds Kirk caught (on his own Mother's Day recipe sporting a barred tail of craft fur) were all over 27 inches, with the largest being over 28 inches. The fish would come right up to the boat, snaking through the shallow water, and tailing intermittently, looking for prey. Finger mullet and shrimp were everywhere, and the reds were as aggressive as I’ve ever seen them. After the wind came up, we headed east onto the sand and  found lots of reds, but they weren’t tailing. So I gave Randy a call and asked him how he was doing with his client, Cy Rosenthal from Philly. He and Cy were into feeding reds along a west shoreline, so Kirk and I picked up and headed for a spot upwind of Randy. By the time we arrived, however, he and Cy were  spotting fewer fish. Kirk and I poled along trying to decide what to do next when I spotted a tailing school of reds about 150 yards away. Pretty soon, Kirk was out of the boat s stalking three different large groups of tailing reds, and Randy poled Cy over and joined us.
    For the next  two hours, Kirk fished to one tailing group after another. He landed 11 reds before we headed in, and hooked another two or three. It was a great day for him––his highest catching redfish day ever. A week later, when he emailed us, he said, “I am still on a redfish high after the great fishing last week.” I think Kirk will be back before long!
    After Randy had guided Cy Rosenthal for four days, I had the honor of guiding him two days near the end of his trip. Randy and he had already had some great catching days toward the beginning of Cy’s stay. On our first day out, Cy and I were able to locate some large pods working under gulls. Cy’s first effort reaped a 28” red that took his fly like a halfback catching the ball, and proceeded to run to the goal line, somewhere in the next county. It was quite a fight. We called Randy, and got him and his client to join us before the action played out there. We ran around and found two more pods, however, and were able to add to Cy’s early catch. Later, once the sun got high enough, I opted to pole a shoreline that I hadn’t fished in quite a while, and the reds were stacked up there. Cy landed three more fine reds, and had shots at a couple of dozen more. It was windy, however, and Cy had to make his first cast count, or we’d blow right over the red.
    Hey, for a 90-year-old man, Cy did pretty well landing five reds, don’t you think? And fishing seven consecutive days?! I hope I can do half as well when I’m 90, if I ever get there.

11/5/07  Capt. Randy here. Just wanted to register a quick note to let all you faithful readers out there know that I am still alive and have been very busy on the water this fall. I thought things were supposed to slow down a bit once November rolls in but I am about to start a long stretch of consecutive days on the water that will take me into the middle of November. In fact, Scott and I have both spent quite a few days on the water this fall. Duck season starts today so, if you are looking for a “cast and blast” package that includes ducks and red, give me a call soon. The ducks have moved into the Lower Laguna Madre by the tens of  thousands. It is quite a site every morning as I motor into my favorite Westside venue only to be startled once again by the lift off of enormous flights of redhead and pintail ducks.

As Scott has already accurately described, with the falling off of the water depth, we have been regularly delighted most mornings by tailing reds in a various Westside spots. And, now that the water temps are dropping a bit, redfish pods and birding is out their for the finding. I experience one of these mornings a few days ago while I was out with Sherman and Diane Baynard, both active leaders in the Coast Conservation Association of Maryland. The have spent many days fishing for Stripers on their home waters and other saltwater species around the world. But, this was their first trip to the LLM and they have repeatedly assured me that they will be back. Our first day out was shortened by a frontal system that brought rain, high winds, and a drastic drop in temperature. Even so we managed to locate one of the largest pods I have seen this fall with approcximately 75 gulls fighting for breakfast overhead. Due to a mishap with an aggressive gull and an attractive fly we were slightly less that successful in the hookup category.  We did manage to get one fish on the boat using a Kingfisher Spoon fly before being chased off the water at 11 am. The next day Sherman and I went out and looked, but the water was high and so was the wind. As we motored in we noticed the unusually strong outgoing tide and hoped that the Sherman’s third and last day would be a good one. It was a banner day. We went to my favorite Westside shoreline and found no reason to motor again that day. The conditions were calm, the water was low and glassy, and the redfish were still tailing when we headed for the dock in the middle of the afternoon. I know you think I must be lying, but I am not. Some days are like that-a wonderful gift.

Later this month I will be traveling to Waco to deliver a slideshow and talk about these home waters that I live so much. If your local fly fishing club would enjoy a similar presentation this winter let me know.

I hope you can join Scott and me this Sunday night at 9 for our next online chat as we discuss fly fishing and the LLM.


10/29/07 After fishing with David Wiechering (see below) on Friday, I had every expectation that our son Pete and I would have an equally good day of fly fishing on Saturday. Alas, the north wind increased rather than subsided, leaving us with less-than-ideal conditions. We gave it our best, but the fish had largely vacated the shallows. We found an area of glassy water, so we got out and waded downwind hoping to see some tails. Later, I went back to the boat and poled down to where Pete was, and noticed that he was casting repeatedly at a tailing fish. “A big trout,” he yelled. He put the black VIP in front of the fish, but it didn’t show much interest. “Just like a big trout,” I thought. But it was also just like a black drum. If I’d known it was a drum, I may have encouraged to give up casting his popper, but neither of us “knew any better,” and so Pete kept presenting his fly to the stubborn fish. Suddenly it came out of the water and ate the fly. I jumped out of the boat with my camera, thinking that Pete had hooked a big trout. But as I got closer, I couldn’t tell what it was. Sheepshead? Nope, it was a really nice 5 lb. black drum––on an black VIP. Inconceivable! Ask anyone. You can fish for black drum for the rest of your life, and you would probably not catch another one on a popper.

We were both psyched. It was a fine fish, and the only fish that either of us caught. He didn’t say it because he’s too nice, but he kicked my butt. I’m sure it won’t be the last time.

10/28/07 Capt. Scott here. So much time has passed that the thought of recapping the last month has become paralyzing by its sheer scope.  I could run and hide, or ... I can just pick up as if nothing has happened in the mean time. While that's not true, of course, I'll exercise my poetic prerogative to make you guess about the rest.
    Ah, yes, Friday was spectacular.  I had the privilege of guiding David Wiechering from Harlingen, who has in the span of almost eight years has progressed from a novice fly caster to very proficient angler, indeed. David goes to the Bahamas a couple of times a year, and for the most part, has become a self-guided fly fisher on the Lower Laguna.
    We left earlier than necessary, because I wanted to make sure that I made it to a certain spot before anyone else. Such haste is rarely necessary, and it almost never pays off, but it makes me feel better to be sitting there in the dark, knowing that we've got it to ourselves. My poor clients must wonder about me sometimes––navigating by q-beam down the Arroyo and tying on flies with the help of a flashlight. Do real men get there first? I sometimes wonder.
    The fish weren't there after all. So we headed north to fish an area that has been awash with water for the last month. I haven't really fished north very much because it's been so deep, but with the foot drop in tidal levels, some areas flashed "outperform" on my inner eye.
    It was far colder and windier than the weatherman has predicted. The glassy surface that I hoped to find was nonexistent, so we ponied up to the lee of a spoil island, and poled downwind, hoping that the sun's warming of the mainland would cancel out the north wind. As it turned out, the wind almost shut down entirely by late morning, creating to-die-for tailing opportunities. Before then, however, we managed to spot tailing fish spread out along the spoil islands, and David commenced to get some early practice for what turned out to be a veritable rodeo of sight casting later on.
    I recommended a Mother's Day Fly, which turned out to be an all-day winner. David caught his first red from the boat around 9:00. Getting the fish to see the fly is always the challenge, whether casting from the boat or from wading. Of course, the number of casts that you get before the fish sees the boat and turns makes casting from the boat a quick and accurate game. 
    I can honestly say that the action got progressively better, and subsided only around 4:00. David casted to probably 30-40 fish, many of which he could have caught if they'd simply seen the well-presented fly. I think that the cloudless, moonlit night accounted for a certain measure of lethargic finickiness that we observed. Moreover the hoards of ducks had left piles of floating grass to contend. But hey... David wasn't complaining. He hooked 9-10, missed a fewstrikes, and landed six up to 25+ inches. That's a great day for anyone on the Lower Laguna Madre.