We both began chunking our bucktails across the flat. There was no precise presentation, no slipping the lure into the water ahead of the fish. It was cast and retrieve, and it was literally cast every direction.
My guess is we caught more than thirty bonefish that morning without moving from one spot. Some of them were quite large as memory serves. We were using six or eight-pound line, and these bones would strip most of it off the reel before we could turn them.
We had no net; we used no leader. Technique was not our strong point. We never cranked to run down a fish. But catch fish we did.
I remember that day well, but I was never really that impressed by the bonefish we caught. I never understood the big deal about catching a bonefish! Heck, I could go out there almost any time and catch one. But, what good was it? You couldn’t eat it!
What I remember most about that trip was what we did after we tired of catching bones. We moved to the edge of a favorite finger channel and caught snapper. As I remember it, we ended up with a couple of mangrove snapper in the five-pound range, several smaller lane snapper, and one mutton snapper.
We caught a ton of bones that morning, and relatively few snapper that afternoon. But, it was the snapper that made our day, because we brought fish home to eat. Isn’t it amazing how one’s perspective on life and life’s activities can change the measure of success?
I’m sure the bones still patrol those flats south of Key Biscayne, though probably fewer in number and far more wary. I have a whole different appreciation for them since those days. Placing a shrimp fly in the right spot ahead of a tailing bone is no easy feat. And turning a screaming bone on a five weight with four-pound tippet makes my heart pound!
Much as I wish I could fish like we did back when, I know you can’t go back. Given what I do today, I guess my perspective on life really has changed.
