“These fish must be the spawn of Satan!”

Hook up with a bluefish school near you.

I was unsure if Suzie was referring to the sudden and savage strike, the fierce fight that followed, or the mangled mess that was once a lure hanging from the mouth of the juvenile bluefish that she tentatively held.

“How can such little teeth do so much damage?”

Again, I didn’t know if she wanted an answer or had merely asked a rhetorical question. To say that our soft-plastic baits had been “damaged” was an understatement, as “destroyed” better described their condition. They were shredded and useless after being removed from the vise-like grip of the juvenile bluefish.

“It’s the fish oil that’s in a bluefish,” I started. “Like hydraulic fluid, it allows them to clamp their jaws shut and keep them in a locked position.” I didn’t know if she would believe me or not, but I figured that if I said it like I knew what I was talking about, maybe she would fall for it.

I received no response but, instead, one of those looks that said, “How stupid do you think I am?”

I didn’t really know; it was our first time fishing together. I soon learned, however, that she was quite an adept angler. I met Suzie Reihl at a garage sale I had the month before. She walked over and picked up my best rod, flexed it and waved it around, and pronounced that it was hers. My interest was further perked when she asked if one of the numerous cast nets hanging from bicycle hooks in a ceiling joist was for sale. They were not, but I offered that if she could cast one so that it made a circle, I’d sell it to her...and I soon owned one less shrimp net. I asked if she wanted to go fishing sometime and a cold day in the heart of winter presented a great opportunity to find some ICW bluefish.

Later in the spring, the bluefish that we were catching will migrate up the Atlantic coast toward the New England states in gargantuan schools. Along the way, they will encounter pods of baitfish also moving north and a feeding frenzy is certain to follow. Like a teenage boy at his first smorgasbord, they are willing to eat anything that looks like food. Juvenile bluefish rapidly grow in size, both in length and in girth, as they attempt to satisfy their insatiable appetites.

In the fall, the now mature bluefish move back down the coast to winter in our waters. From a distance, you can see birds diving into the ocean’s cooling waters but as you get closer, you’ll notice water churning as bluefish chop their way through a bait pod. The birds do not swoop to pluck individual baitfish that have fled from the blues but, instead, they seize the floating remains. If you take closer note, you will see that the birds are careful not to linger on the surface for fear of losing an appendage. And then it suddenly stops as if someone has turned off a food processor. After they have devoured a pod of baitfish, the school of blues goes down and returns to its nomadic wandering. That’s the way it is offshore.

It’s a similar situation inshore, except that smaller bluefish are present. During the winter, juvenile “choppers” roam up and down the Intracoastal Waterway continually searching for a baitfish bonanza. If it’s too windy to get offshore, or you just want to bend a rod with minimal effort, these aggressive little blues can make a day for you. This time of year Florida is just about surrounded by them, from northeast Atlantic waters on around to the Gulf side. If there’s a midwinter feeding frenzy on coastal waters, it’s liable to be blues.