In fact, there was not much of anything — no oyster boats, no shrimp boats, no other anglers. Just the occasional kingfisher perched on a branch, seabirds diving for bait and intermittent splashes that indicate big redfish.
Redfish, or red drum, are not widely known as a sport fish outside of the Gulf Coast. (Because of the chef Paul Prudhomme, they were once more likely to be encountered blackened on a plate than on the end of your line.)
The fish’s name is somewhat misleading, as redfish tend toward an iridescent gray, with a coppery patina on the back and upper sides; their most distinguishing characteristic are black spots near the base of the tail. Redfish have many commendable traits for fly-fishers — they are plentiful, they often frequent shallow water close to shore, they are tenacious fighters, and they are very willing to take a fly.
“I like to call them user-friendly,” Arnold said.
The Biloxi Marsh encompasses hundreds of miles of shallow water along Louisiana’s northeastern shoreline. In the heat of summer, algae blooms hamper visibility, making fishing difficult. But in cooler months, the water is clear enough to spot cruising redfish from a Caribbean-style flats skiff. The fall and winter also bring the big bull reds (longer than 27 inches) close to shore. Some of these exceed 50 pounds.
“The bull reds come in near the marshes to spawn in the fall,” Arnold said. “As the weather cools, they stay, as the shallow water is warmer. Warmer water also attracts forage — baitfish, crabs and shrimp.
“Before I came upon these fish around the Biloxi Marsh in the mid ’90s, a 12-pound redfish was considered a good catch on the fly. Now we regularly find reds over 30 pounds.”
A small oil derrick a mile to the south hummed in the background as we entered a lakelike opening in the marsh. In water less than two feet deep, reds 20 pounds or more rooted around in the mud, their backs occasionally breaking the surface.
Surmising that the fish were eating crabs, Arnold tied on a crab pattern called a Hailey’s Comet. He instructed me to focus drop the fly in front of a specific fish and retrieve it with short, steady strips. Standing on the mesh-encircled casting platform, I spooked several fish with casts that were too long, and missed other fish with shots that were too far left or right. After a few miscues, I hooked and lost one fish, then landed a modest 15-pounder.
We poled around in a circle as fish disappeared and materialized around us. My casting improved, and several reds near 25 pounds came to the net before the fish stopped feeding.
We motored for 10 minutes toward one of Arnold’s favorite spots, which he called the Land of Giants. Several International Game Fish Association world records have come from this stretch, roughly a dozen football fields long and one football field wide. As we came in sight of the Land of Giants, two bottlenose dolphins appeared before us. They were soon joined by others, and the pod circled our skiff.
“The dolphins can really help the fishing,” Arnold said. “When they’re in the deeper water off the marsh, the reds sometimes will stay in the shallows.”
Whether it was the presence of the dolphins or the abundance of feed in the shallows, a remarkable three hours soon unfolded. As Arnold poled the skiff slowly across the shallows, thousands of bull reds presented themselves in wave after wave.
There was a flash of two or three white bellies here, stirred-up mud there, and when the sun was right, a full-on silhouette of three- or four-foot-long redfish swimming by the boat. Eventually, a larger fish appeared about 90 feet off the bow. The fishing gods smiled, and I dropped a cast a few feet in front of the fish and stripped. The fish’s gills flared — a sign of its excitement — and it accelerated, mouth open. Line ripped from my reel, the rod bent wildly, and 15 minutes later, I was posing with a bull red whose weight Arnold estimated at 38 pounds.
What does this day of angling — one that Arnold declared the best he had seen in 10 years — say about the aftermath of the spill?
He said: “I think that the reason fishing has been great is related to the spill. First, many of the species that make up the marine ecosystem here have had an entire spawning period to reproduce and grow without being harvested, thanks to commercial fishing moratoriums. That puts more bait in the water, which supports more and bigger fish.
“I also believe that redfish habitat in other parts of the Gulf of Mexico has been damaged, and that some of the displaced fish have come here. I have not personally seen any oil residue around these marshes, but I can’t say it’s not there. We just don’t know for sure. One thing that’s certain; the long-term effects of the spill have not played out.”
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