It was difficult to distinguish the ripple moving across the surface from the wind chop because it looked like a boat wake coming from a long distance, about to peter out in the shallow water where we drifted. But it was moving against the slight chop, and the more we watched it the more we realized it was caused by something moving under the surface toward our boat.

When the nervous water got to within about 60 feet of us, our guide, Captain Tommy Locke, said to cast five feet in front of the ripple and let the fly sink.

My cast was about two feet off target, but close enough to the ripple for the lead fish to see it, and within seconds my #4 hook was embedded in what turned out to be an 8-pound redfish. Two of its brethren were soon in the same predicament.

We were fishing for reds and snook over the fertile grass flats of Charlotte Harbor, a large estuary on Florida's southwest coast where the abundant shallow-water flats are a fly-fishing dream. We met at Uncle Henry's, a neat little hotel and marina complex nestled at the head of a small lagoon on the north side of Gasparilla Island. On the south end of the island lies Boca Grande Pass, one of the world's premier tarpon fishing areas during the months of May and June.

It was the third week of August and most of the tarpon were gone, but redfish and snook were everywhere, if you had a guide who knew where to look. I live near Charlotte Harbor, and knew Tommy was one of the best.

The day continued with redfish and snook catches and releases, and by late afternoon we had caught and released a couple dozen fish and headed back to Uncle Henry's. It had been a typical day of fishing for redfish in many areas from Florida's panhandle in the northwest, the northeast coast around Jacksonville, and down both coasts to the Florida Keys.