Redfish are often pig-like in their feeding habits, omnivorous to the point of gluttony. This pod of redfish were gorging on shrimp in grass in about 6 inches of water. Because the sun was low in the western sky and in my face, the thrashing black backs made the water itself appear nervous. Shrimp could be seen leaping in the air. At first, I thought… maybe black drum? but no these were too long. The wind was wrong. I had to cast behind my body as the herd was moving the opposite direction. My cast fell a few feet short of my intended location, yet close enough. I twitched the rod tip and felt the weight of resistance and set the hook hard. I was using 8 pound monofilament. I’d changed to this because I’d been fishing on Lake Daingerfield, a crystal clear lake. Today’s trip was impromptu, and in my haste I didn’t want to respool. So I loosened my drag and waited for the brute to tire itself out. I knew on the first approach to the kayak she was way too green, and sure enough she took 25 yards of line out with ease. Rod tip up, I was worried she’d drag me over oyster shell, but it didn’t happen. A second run, a third run, and on the fourth trip in I netted the pig. My second second largest inshore redfish to date.
Clearly a keeper, I slid the redfish in my cooler. Now it was my turn to get greedy. I tied two jig heads onto a popping cork and had plans to throw two lures into the next pack of redfish I discovered. Soon after, I see a lone seagull swooping down on the opposite shoreline and I quickly paddle over.
The wind at my back I closed the distance quickly, and could now see the beautiful bronze backs shining clearly in the sun.
I had my head phones in listening to music on my Iphone, I planted my anchor stick into the ground (which is really just a fence post tied to some rope) and prepared to make my cast. However, I’d drove my stick too soon and the school was swimming away from me. I jerked my stick loose of the mud and paddled after them. The wind was too strong, and it was pushing me too close. I made a cast in front of the reds, and the following happened simultaneously:
1. Two large redfish pick up both my jigs and one attacks my popping cork. I set the hook one handed.
2. I get a phone call from my wife and the volume of the ring through the earphones was deafening and the fact I had service miraculous.
3. I reach to stab my fence post anchor into the mud only to discover that when I ripped it free earlier, I had jerked the rope off the post.
4. I spilled soda all over my lap.
Both fish head opposite directions, roll on the surface like synchronized swimmers and spit both jig heads back at me. Far from dejected, I laughed at the absurdity of the situation as I pulled my earphones out, and answered my phone,
“Your timing is impeccable Honey.”