Quiet Steps, Loud Strikes

Quiet Steps, Loud Strikes

Here comes one of my favorite times of the year to fish. February and March can be a bit of a grind, I'll be honest. Unpredictable weather, gusty winds, cold fronts rolling in and out. It's not always easy. Fishing can be decently fair during these months for me personally. But that’s exactly why I get so fired up for what’s coming next.

We’re starting to get those early hints of spring. The sun feels a little warmer. The cold fronts are showing up less often and leaving just as quickly. Water temperatures are creeping back up and the fish are starting to act like it. Over the past two weeks I’ve been spending more and more time walking shorelines in shin-deep water, chasing redfish that are sliding way up shallow in search of tiny baitfish.

This is the time of year where patience and stealth really pay off. These redfish aren’t just feeding – they’re hunting. And if you know how to move right, you can get close enough to make it very personal. I’m talking about slow, methodical steps, staying low, avoiding any sudden movements, and most importantly, being quiet. Redfish in this shallow water are always on high alert. You push too much water or stomp through a pothole, and you’re going to blow your shot. They’re wired to pick up on anything that doesn’t feel right. One wrong move, and you’ll see that puff of mud as they bolt out of sight. The real trick isn’t the lure you’re throwing most of the time, it’s how you move. You’ve got to slow down, quiet your steps, and tune in. That’s what makes this style of fishing so fun and so rewarding. It’s a game of chess, not checkers. When you finally get that perfect angle and present your lure just right, it feels earned.

Speaking of lures, one of my primary go-to numbers in this kind of situation is a KWigglers Wigalo Jr. It’s a smaller profile soft plastic that mimics those tiny baitfish redfish are targeting right now. Depending on wind conditions and water clarity, rigging your bait on an eighth- to quarter-ounce jighead is the ideal setup for this style of fishing. The main goal is to present that bait as if it were a wounded mullet, shrimp, or crab. In this skinny, crystal-clear water, subtle and natural makes all the difference.

I’ll sometimes see a redfish tailing or pushing a slight wake toward the bank and I’ll crouch low, make a short cast placing the lure just ahead of it, and keep twitching it until I catch their attention. When they snap at it and jump straight towards your bait you know it's game on. The eat is everything; it’s fast, it’s aggressive, and it’s right in front of your face. That’s where the addiction comes from. Every now and then, I’ll catch myself just standing still, watching it all unfold. A school of mullet getting nervous, a lone heron posted up on the edge of a pothole, or a red just barely pushing a ripple ahead of me. That’s the stuff that makes this time of year feel special. You’re not racing around. You’re soaking it in – one cast at a time.

And the cool part? Some of the best sessions I’ve had started with nothing more than a pair of wading boots, my Waterloo rod and a quiet stretch of shoreline. There’s something raw and real about walking into the water with just what you can carry and earning each fish you see. You feel more connected to it all and not just a visitor passing through.

As we move further into spring, it only gets better. The bait gets thicker, the fish get more aggressive, and those calm mornings start to stack up. It's like the bay shakes off its winter rust and comes back to life. And when it does, being there early, being in rhythm with it, is what makes the difference.

For me, this time of year is all about sharpening my instincts. I am watching how the fish react to certain bait sizes and colors, watching which direction the mullet are jumping, and improving my timing on when to cast and when to wait. It’s that fine-tuning that separates a decent day from a great one. It’s also what keeps me coming back day after day. No matter how many seasons I’ve logged, the fish always have more to teach.
 
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