by John Kumiski
“There’s a crawler along the bank.” Capt. Bryan Carter was poling Ken Shannon and me along an island in the Gulf of Mexico along the Mississippi River delta. We’d been there less than five minutes when he spotted this fish. The water was so shallow that half the fish was out of the water, and even in the Whipray we couldn’t get near it. I pulled on my waders and jumped out of the boat, prepared to do battle.
The Louisiana coast provides strong evidence that God is an outdoorsman. In the inshore marshes, duck ponds and bayous supply rich and varied habitat for incredible numbers of ducks, geese, redfish, speckled trout, and other forms of wildlife. More habitat for inshore species of fish lies along the extensive shoreline of the Gulf of Mexico, and out in the Gulf some of the world’s hottest fishing for pelagic fishes such as tuna and marlin exists. Bryan had us at the edge of the Gulf, where the marsh meets the sea in a dizzying maze of islands and channels, flats and sloughs.
We would find black drum, and sheepshead, and lots of redfish less than 10 pounds. But we wanted to find what Bryan calls “donkeys,” big reds of 30 pounds or better. The crawler he had pointed out was not what he wanted, but he let me go after it, if for no other reason than to check my competence, to get a fish under our collective belts.
“Louisiana fishing is overlooked by the national media,” he said. “We have the best redfishing in the world right here, and I want you to get a photo of a fish of at least 30 pounds. We got a 32 pound fish here yesterday, and I know there are 50 pound reds swimming around out here. I see them several times a year.”
I waded into casting position and tossed a big EP Crab in the vicinity of the crawler. The fly hit the water with a loud splat, and the fish turned immediately and headed for it. I twitched it once, and the fish rushed it. Almost too late I realized the line was tangled up in my feet, and did a crazy, one-legged chicken dance while I held the rod in one hand and tried to untangle the line from my right foot with the other. Luck was with me, and I dragged the fish to the boat for some photos.
Bryan said, “I don’t want to be photographed with that little thing. Let’s go find a donkey!” The fish was released and the search began in earnest.
We were dogged by clouds most of the day, and blew out fish after fish. Most were in the 10 to 12 pound range, but some were the desired donkey size. Finally we got a little bit of sunlight. I spotted what was obviously a big fish, and the EP Crab landed right I front of it. The fish obliged.
I fought the fish hard and after ten minutes the line came zinging past my head, sans fly. Upon checking the end of the leader we found that the knot that I had used to tie the fly on had come apart. We lost the fish we wanted because I had tied a bad knot.
While I berated myself, Bryan went back to looking for that donkey fish. We found a small cove that was full of 12 to 14 pound fish, and all three of us hooked up within seconds of each other.
We ended up catching a dozen or so reds between eight and fifteen pounds. I hooked a brute black drum, and missed the strike on a couple more. No matter how you look at it we had a great day of fly fishing, even though we didn’t get the donkey. That’s OK. It gives me a strong reason to go back.
Bryan Carter is educated, witty, urbane, humorous, a touch sarcastic, and a highly skilled fly fishing guide. I recommend him without reservation. Reach him at 504.329.5198.
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This article was written by John Kumiski of John Kumiski Outdoors and Travel. Contact him at his website www.johnkumiski.com or via email at john@spottedtail.com. Copyright 2007 John Kumiski.
John Kumiski 's most recent fishing guidebooks are How and Where to Catch Redfish in the Indian River Lagoon System (Argonaut Publishing Company), and Fishing Florida's Space Coast (Argonaut Publishing Company).
John Kumiski's newest book is Redfish on the Fly- A Comprehensive Guide.
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