Full moon. They've been feeding all night. They ain't gonna hit today.
But the beach and bay are filled with red tide and dead fish. So...
Pull up to the "Cichlid Spot". It's slow going, but, it's not always about catching, right?
I make a crappy cast under a tree that gets caught up in the submerged branches. I try to work the fly free, and the "branch" swims for open water!
Next spot. Ten minutes into it, a car pulls in behind mine, radio bumping, and I figure I'll let them have the spot. I'll just pack it up and head home.
"Great minds think alike, eh, Jimbo?". It's a coworker. He and I discovered this place a week or two ago.
I laugh, and immediately hook up and land one of the blackest bass I've ever seen.
A couple minutes later another comes to hand. He snaps his rod. I decide it's time to head home. He shows me a spot on Google Maps that looks promising. I decide to scout it out for him, because that's what friends do; they sacrifice. And it's on the way home, so...
It's loaded with tiny bass that cruising the shoreline. I missed two that were around 14" long. I'm sure there are bigger. 14 bluegill later, the humidity starts to make things uncomfortable, so this time I commit to the decision to go home. Not bad for a day when "they ain't gonna bite".