This was a month of storms and relationships on Kit Lake, my home water, in central Florida’s largemouth bass country.
Some quaternary supervisors (surely not fly fishers) required incorrect test answers for advancement at work. So, we escaped to the water where fishing buddies joined us with new stories. Where former colleagues joined us to catch up and say goodbye. And where new friends joined us to learn our fishing.
A series of cold fronts from the north misted morning waters, moved brown pelicans, and caused bass to malinger like Saturday morning teenagers. Toward the end of the month, cooling waters and a hatch of chisywinks turned on the crappie. One after the other, they were eager to attack Polk zebra midges presented vertically. The bass changed too. From lethargic in their dark summer colors to aggressive in their light winter colors. They were uncooperative on days of consistently cold water or steady bluster. But when holes in the grey allowed some sun, or a light rain cooled the water to around 70°, they whoped dark poppers and small streamers presented at moderate speeds.
We were all thankful that angling once again showed its magical ability to distract us and bring us together.