I still smell the flats. I can see the mud at low tide, glistening in the midday sun. Small spikes from mangrove seeds dot the brown mud, and a long-legged, great white heron stalks its prey at the water’s edge. A school of finger mullet makes a wake in the shallow water that is now beginning to ebb. I wait as my mind tries to conjure up a big snook striking and sending these baitfish flipping on the shimmering mud. Read more...