We are in the home stretch of changing seasons. You can tell by the not-so-stifling humidity thanks to a welcome north wind. Some may call it a cool front, but in reality it is more of a makes-it-bearable front.
Football camps are fully engaged now in preparation for their season openers. Those left standing after full pads in some brutal heat will be chomping at the bit to hit something in a different jersey. Are you ready for some football?
The recent winds we’ve experienced are just what the fishermen prayed for. The Gulf beaches are a beautiful place to be when the north wind pushes the surf down, allowing the shallows to clear. There are no cinches, but when the water is green, odds are the fishing will be on.
Rob Prejean with a multi-spotted beach redfish.
Rob Prejean and Roger Cornwell couldn’t have timed it any better. They headed south with the help of a light wind out of the north, and found the water a nice emerald green right on the beach. When conditions are just right, you must strike while the iron is hot.
Both anglers waded in, chunking and winding in double time. For several consecutive days, they reaped the benefits of ideal weather and favorable tidal conditions. Speckled trout and bull redfish moved in right behind a ton of bait, and the fun commenced.
They just about wore themselves out catching fish with a variety of baits and methods of hooking up. Both fishermen got to dance with giant bull reds pushing 40 inches in length. They were in the groove, and both can attest as to why redfish are nicknamed “bulls.”
For a respite from the heat, let’s go back to a cooler time. There was a bite to a harsh north wind as Marcus Devillier hunkered down last hunting season. He was bow hunting in Missouri, and the bucks were chasing. The rut was on and life was good.
From nearly 300 yards away he could make out the horns of a monster buck. The buck was tending a doe and no manner of calling would pull him away from lady love. Marcus watched and helplessly observed. Then he began to devise a plan.
The buck was upwind, and near his bedding spot was a bale of hay that might afford some cover. Marcus decided to go into attack mode and take his chances. He eased down out of his tree perch and began to assault into the wind.
En route to the hay bale, he could hear the big buck grunting like a pig, which spiked his blood pressure even more. He had now closed the distance and calculated he was in bow range. Having done his due diligence and practiced, he was confident with a 50-yard shot.
He peered cautiously around the hay, and the buck stood up broadside at 50. Marcus let an arrow fly, and the unmistakable whack of a good hit sounded distinctly. The giant Missouri buck hunched up and went down hard. The doe he was courting couldn’t take it any more and white-flagged it to greener pastures.
The odds of stalking a mature buck into the limited shooting range of a bow are a long shot at best. But this plan came together, and at the end of a long arching bow shot lay a buck of a lifetime. Sometimes you have to wing it, and take the offensive when suitable conditions prevail. Marcus’s ear-to-ear smile said it all.
Ah, that was cooling and comforting all at the same time. Happy hunting and fishing too!
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