As the north trade winds howl throughout the early spring, many natives are licking their wounds inflicted from last minute late season pushes deep into the marsh after soggy, wore out game, on land that’s been trampled all winter through and through. Packing up their gear, emptying hunting camps, perusing fuel bills and telling stories of the one that got away. Ahhh, spring time is here and it’s time to clean the rifles, fix the broken, and hide from the weekend festivities we got out of all hunting season. It’s like March Madness native style: finding the wet musty sweatshirt in the bed of the truck can’t keep you from remembering rainy early winter mornings, the smell of mud embedded in the passenger side carpet or how sore we were after the miles of walking after the fast flying, migratory mind- blowing, “How did I MISS that F%#ker??” mighty snipe. Reading this may bring a relative or a relative of a loved one to mind: you know the one who, last time you saw the likes of, was slinking in late to… fill in the holiday family function here… wearing snake boots and most likely poorly groomed.
However, a select few dump the hunting gear wherever they can and climb out of their cocoon of camouflage and get right back on the mighty St. Johns, looking for what she’s going to allow us to harvest from her sweet, sweet waters. From Mexico bound migratory birds to the southern migration of American shad, the spring is one of her most magical times of the year! If mother nature allows, we baptize ourselves in salt baths and if the conditions forbid, we sneak into sweet water and lightly finesse lines into the tannic-tainted north flowing H2O. Shad, Spec, Catfish and Bass use this time of water recession to fatten up on the newly hatched spring time goodies and prepare for the long hot summer. Minnows are a staple for the harvest during the feeding frenzy. All of the aforementioned species regularly delight in all day feedings of these light tackle wonders of the livewell. Worms, freshly peeled shrimp, cuts of shad or pretty much any other smelly leftovers from the winter's "funtivities" will work nicely for the feverishly feeding catfish. Floated to the bottom, hooked with strong hooks, tied with fresh leaders and delicately weighted. These black mambas of the bottom dwellers will find the springtime sacrificial offerings of stinky treats in no time. As for, shad and spec… not so easy, muchachos…. I’ve taken the high road over the last few springs and tortured myself by targeting them with chicken feathers and closures. Yes, that means I’ve been fly fishing for these picky little bastards. Not having the patience to tie my own flies, I spent countless nights scrolling through pages of internet catalogs in an aimless attempt to pick the color, size and type of minnow pattern they’ll eat this year. After package filled parcels parade their way to the mailbox, a few of these and a couple of those are what end up in the man purse as the water clapping inshore skiffs embark on the late Sunday morning sun-filled adventures.
This last Sunday the Great White Hunter, that is, John D and I headed north to the Mullet Lake area of the St. Johns, up between Lake Harney and Lake Jessup in Geneva, FL. Although we got pretty much skunked, we had a great time on unfamiliar waters exploring here and there to see what the yonder North had to offer a few lost salt crackers. The day ultimately did not live up to our expectations of the tales of 20 pound catfish pushing their way out of cooler lids, limits of spec or tight lines pulled by furiously flying shad. We had fun nonetheless. A few cold beers, calling out bird names and time to talk about what the upcoming daylight savings had in store for each of us is how we passed the time while we basked in the shadows of ancient cypress trees, surrounded by bottom- busting cypress knees, curious critters and cool spring air; there are few better ways to throw away an afternoon.
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