Indian Summer continues in the Northeast, as does the practice of chasing bluefish around Long Island Sound. These fish get a bad rap–some people go as far as to disdain them–but it’s hard to beat the visual electricity that occurs when twitching a popper through a bluefish frenzy.  For those who say it’s easy, so’s playing a three-chord progression on an acoustic guitar, but it’s still pleasing to the ear. And you still have to find them. My buddy and I ran point to point and into the backs of bays in search of them. Look for signs of life, I said, until it occurred to me that we were really looking for signs of mean. Find the life–the nervous water–and then look for the mean–pops…