Our waters ‘living soup of life’

Labor Day may signal the sad end to summer, but for marsh monkeys like me it means get all my fishing gear in order, patch up the holes in my cast net and get ready to fill the freezer.

If nature sticks to its normal schedule, the next eight weeks should be the best time of the year to gather seafood in nearly every shape and form.

I know it’s still hot out there but, as recently as just a few days ago, I saw the first sign that the harvest is near. While guiding inshore with a couple of friends, we must have caught at least eight different species of fish in a three-hour period — including a mangrove snapper, which is usually found no further north than South Florida.

Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that our unique maze of saltwater estuaries acts as a nursery for a lot of species of fish that are not regulars here. In one particular spot that I cast net when I need finger mullet, starting about now, every cast of the net includes at least a half dozen baby tarpon. Other species that magically appear in September and October include snappers, juvenile cobia and, of all things, lots of small groupers.

And why not? This same maze of estuaries that are so unique to our area are the perfect hiding place for tiny fish that have been carried here on the ocean currents, some from hundreds upon hundreds of miles. In addition to the millions upon millions of nooks and crannies that are there for these tiny creatures, food to feed them is everywhere.

So many times when I am guiding newcomers to the Lowcountry I hear the same thing — “Why is the water so dirty looking? Why can’t it be like the crystal clear water found in the Bahamas?”

Every time I hear that question, I explain that our “dirty” water isn’t dirty at all. Instead, the main reason our waters are that color is because there is so much life such as plankton and billions of tiny creatures that find our waters so appealing. It’s like a living soup of life. Then I hear them state that there is no way they’ll go swimming in water where they can’t see what’s there.

I usually laugh at that one because if they were able to see what is there, I can guarantee they would never ever go swimming in our waters again. Only once in my 59 years living here have I ever had a frightening encounter with a shark, and that was only because I was stupid.

I was around 9 years old and surf fishing in front of my house on Hilton Head. It was low tide and, so I didn’t have to come back in to the beach to get bait every time I got a bite, I decided to tie my floating bait bucket’s rope to one of the belt loops on my shorts. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled through the water as a fairly good-sized shark had grabbed the bucket in his mouth. Luckily, I was able to untie the rope and all was well. Lesson learned.

I don’t know when the last time you were out on the water but, because I am out there so much, I notice subtle changes from week to week. During my last trip, it was like someone had opened the gate to a corral full of wild horses and set them free.

Every place I stopped was boiling with herds of mullet streaming along the banks and millions of shrimp flickering across the surface of the water. In addition to all that bait, all I had to do was focus on one single spot and, in less than a minute, some predator would blast up through the bait schools.

If there was ever a time of the year for fisherman to practice the art of seeing, something I stress at all my seminars, now is that time. It’s like seeing a new word for the very first time and then you start seeing it everywhere. Now is the prime time to hone your senses because chances are you’ll finally get to see your first tailing redfish or maybe tightly packed schools of 40-pound jack crevelle with dorsal fins erect lazing up the May River on the incoming tide.

The water temperature still has to start falling a bit before the river goes ape but, with every passing day, the fishing, shrimping and crabbing is just going to get better and better. And this trend will probably continue on until the first part of November.

A friend of mine and I did give the shrimping a try last week and, though we didn’t slay them by any means, the ones we did catch were in the medium to large category. I have even heard of a few bull redfish being caught, so the time is near for all hell to break loose.

So put some new string on your reels, mend that cast net and clear the freezer out so you have room for nature’s best. Doves, fish, shrimp and crabs…oh my!

This story was originally published September 11, 2016 at 9:26 AM with the headline "Our waters ‘living soup of life’."