Several years ago, I caught a mixed bag of four dozen bluegills and shellcrackers during a single, glorious afternoon. While that was practically all the law allowed, the real kicker is that these fish weighed close to a pound apiece.

I was fishing a tournament on Lake Okeechobee, and on the afternoon in question, I fished out of Buckhead Ridge with a very good guide named Mike Backich. Don't remember whether Mike remembers that trip, but for me, it remains a revelation. If I'm sure of anything, it's that if I go out and land a blue marlin on a kite string, it could hardly surpass the sheer serendipity of tricking that many fat, sassy sunfish. I went from last place to second in a matter of hours, but then Mike knew where to look for truly big bream.

I live in South Florida where a half-dozen native panfish species compete with a growing list of exotics, so confusion is inevitable. Although many claim the latter upset the ecological applecart (a supposition that's rooted in fact), exotics are just as much fun to catch as natives. Whatever your preference, an education in the habits of panfish is always worth the cost of tuition.

For starters, big panfish are elusive. Yet every species eventually comes within the reach of fly fishermen. Scientifically speaking, the several species we Floridians collectively refer to as bream (pronounced "brim") are just plain, ordinary sunfish. Be aware that like other freshwater dwellers, they feed best, and spawn at particular times of year. For instance, if you go to Lake Okeechobee in November in hopes of catching a trophy bluegill, you'll probably be disappointed. On the other hand, if you return in May you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Of all our local species, bluegills rank at the top of most fly fishermen's lists because of their availability and affinity for hitting a floating bug. 'Gills inhabit practically all freshwater bodies, although they seem to do better in lakes. While examples to the contrary exist, very few big ones ever show up in residential canals. This, in itself, is a point worth considering. Then again, some canals are known for trophy bluegill. Take, for example, the Lake Okeechobee Rim Canal with its famous chizziwink hatch. When these "blind mosquitoes" hatch, they can fill the air like snowflakes. This, in turn, brings up the bluegills, which respond with uncharacteristic abandon. Back when he lived in South Florida, fly fishing great Lefty Kreh used to snag the shoreline branches on that canal in order to shake off the chizziwinks. When the bugs hit the water, all hell broke loose.

The Everglades canals are famous bluegill hotspots, too. Over the years, I've logged many, many hours bream bugging along Alligator Alley, where I learned to call big 'gills "copperheads" in deference to the metallic-hued bar on their foreheads. Some anglers feel that big bluegill aren't as plentiful now. When I quizzed long-time fly fishing guide Jack Allen on the subject, he was less than optimistic:

"I remember we used to kill the big bluegills in L-67 canal in western Miami-Dade and Broward counties, but lately, I don't see as many. I think it has something to do with Oscar." Jack's sentiments aren't unique. However, the oscars and Mayan cichlids that anglers blame for the bluegill decline are confined to Miami-Dade, Broward and Collier county waters, where the occasional harsh winter keeps their numbers in check.

Jon Fury, a biologist for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission who specializes in Everglades fisheries, sees the exotic panfish situation differently.

"I looked up some old records. According to angler success statistics compiled since the mid 1980s, numbers of native panfish haven't really changed that much. I agree that exotics take up space and change the energy flow. But despite the commonly held belief that they're out-competing the natives, actual numbers don't support this claim."

It's difficult to write about bluegills without a word or two about bream bugging. On behalf of the uninitiated, this is topwater fishing with a fly rod, but unlike bass fishing, it's a waiting game that relies more on stealth and self-control than aggressive lure manipulation. How does it work? You cast a tiny bug to a likely looking spot and let it remain motionless until after the rings subside. If you move it at all, it's only after waiting for 10 to 30 seconds. Whoever blinks first, loses. And anyone who's fished for big bluegills knows that the number of big fish caught has a direct relationship to how long one lets his bug sit still. Big bluegills are deliberate risers and can't be rushed. However, that's not the case with smaller bream that greedily attack on sight.

Incidentally, in order to avoid hooking these over-zealous juveniles, you should focus on the most productive water just outside nearshore dropoffs, or during spawning season, over clearly marked beds. It also pays to avoid striking prematurely, and again, moving the bug too soon or too much.

The typical bream bug differs slightly from an ordinary bass popper in several respects. It's smaller and has a blunt nose, rather than a cupped face that audibly pops during retrieves. Bream bugs resemble actual insects, which explains why one of the most famous of all is the immortal Shuman's Cricket, a simple sponge spider.

You'll generally find bluegill spawning beds in three to four feet of water where they show up as plate-size depressions in the bottom. When they're spawning, 'gills will sometimes rise to a surface pattern. However, they just as often refuse, which reinforces the need for sinking fly patterns such as the Woolly Worm.

I might add that before that day on the Big O, I learned a local secret. My insider source claimed the locals fished for spawning bream with a weighted black Woolly Worm, size six, tied with a grizzly hackle and no tail. With bragging rights on the line, they didn't waste time with poppers or other patterns. I took my informant's word for it. The rest is history.

In South Florida, prime time for spawning bluegills is the several day period preceding and following the March full moon. The farther north you go, the later spawning commences. Good news is that spawning continues throughout the summer months, around full and new moon periods.

Bream aficionados recognize that the world record bluegill was an Alabama behemoth that weighed an astounding 4 pounds, 12 ounces. Here in Florida, the record remains a respectable 2.95 pounds, and if interested, you can qualify for an FWC "Big Catch" certificate by weighing in a bluegill that measures at least 11 inches in length or weighs at least 1.25 pounds.

Bream bugging is generally best in low light. I like to canoe at sunset. I'll work my way down an Everglades canal and wait for the wind to subside. It's only then, when the light begins to fade and the surface glasses over, that I'll begin casting. It starts with a bass here and there. Most are inconsequential yearlings. However, the rhythm is frequently interrupted by a succession of stumpknockers and now and then, a gar. Leg-pullers, I call them from the way they jostle the bug and chew its rubber legs. Then on a retrieve when I've absentmindedly allowed the bug to drift motionless over deeper water, it simply disappears. This time, the rodtip digs deeply as whatever's on the other end dives beneath the canoe. I keep up the tension, wondering if I've hooked a cichlid or a sizeable bass. But eventually my smile broadens when the hand-size fish spirals to the surface. It's a copperhead. Now, as I did 20 years ago, I take a moment to admire it before releasing it into the tannic depths below.

While the red-eared sunfish or shellcracker doesn't have the reputation of the bluegill, size-wise it's the granddaddy of bream. Like its name suggests, this beefed-up bundle of muscle has a red spot on its gill flaps and a penchant for feeding on freshwater mollusks. Shellcrackers frequent sandy areas where they feed on snails. Perhaps this is why they're less likely to hit a surface bug.

Nevertheless, I get my share on top. Besides, I've read that rigging a small dropper fly makes the method more effective. Most shellcrackers are caught during the spring spawning period; while some share the same beds as bluegills, spawning activity generally takes place in slightly deeper water.

In South Florida, shellcrackers begin bedding as early as March. By the April full moon, spawning begins in Central Florida. Red-ears in Northwest Florida don't start until late April and May, and while shellcrackers continue bedding into August, bluegills will spawn intermittently into fall. Incidentally, when shellcrackers aren't on sandy spots, try targeting them near snags and floating vegetation.

It's interesting to note that a good spawning shellcracker averages a pound or more. However, if you're looking for a record, you'll have to beat out the South Carolina giant that weighed 5 pounds, 3 ounces. The Florida record currently stands at 4.86 pounds, while any shellcracker weighing at least 2.25 pounds or measuring 12 inches warrants that "Big Fish" certificate.