Can't All Be Dead

The thing about last winter was, Florida is not supposed to be that cold for that long. Things died. Iguanas dropped from trees. I fished in April and the temperature was barely 60 and at all my spots the peacocks that had not died made themselves scarce. I have been bummed. I love those peacock bass. And I hadn’t been back to know.

I had time to spare and drove by my ditch. The largemouth showed strong, and the mayan cichlids, and this. Never have I been more excited to catch a tiny fish. The survivors are reproducing. I saw mama; all of six pounds she followed my fly to the bank but wouldn’t commit. No worries, I’ll be back down here again and I’m fine to wait her out.

2 thoughts on “Can't All Be Dead”

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