When I saw this Panhandle river in February I couldn't believe it. In mid-January a month earlier it had been wall-to-wall fishermen. Thanks to cold weather, schools of seatrout had moved well upriver and were holding in the deep holes. The local launching ramp was clogged with boats, trailers, and anglers anxious to get into the river after fish. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation people didn't bother to launch a boat. They just watched the action from shore, often with binoculars. No need for a boat when almost everyone came and went through this launching ramp.

Now, on a mid-February weekday, with trout season closed for the month, there wasn't a boat or an angler to be seen anywhere on the river. Not even the Fish and Wildlife people were in evidence. Though George, the local boat-launch helper who collected his usual $3 launch fee, was there ready to do his job, he might as well have gone home because it looked like a long, cold, lonely day for him. 

Other than that nothing else had changed. The river was still as clear as it was a month ago. The weather was still almost as chilly as it was in January, but maybe not quite so icy. And the seatrout were said to be somewhere in the river, though probably not hugging their warm, deep holes quite so tightly.

The best part was we were going fishing on a river we had entirely to ourselves. As I climbed aboard Capt. Randle Leger's 20-foot boat and shook hands with fellow angler Tony Cox, I commented that it felt strange being the only anglers out. Leger and Cox are both members of Tallahasee's Florida Big Bend Flyfishers Inc. Club.

"Yeah, and ain't it nice?" grinned Randle as he shoved us off from the dock and used his electric motor to ease us out into the slow flow of Panhandle Florida's Aucilla River. "I sure miss all those meat fishermen from Georgia and Alabama!"

Randle had that right. Since trout fishing was closed for the month of February most anglers probably figured what the heck, why bother when you can't even keep the trout you catch. Yet some anglers look forward to this moratorium on trout and wish it took place in December and January so that more trout would survive the winter onslaught. These anglers don't keep their catch. They fish for the fun of it, glad to be able to release fish so they can be caught and fought another day.

Most of these anglers make sure that releasing their fish is as trouble free as possible. Hook barbs are flattened to make unhooking easier. Fish are seldom touched or removed from the water. A grip on the fly with long-nosed pliers or hemostats, a flick of the wrist and it's done.

To tell the truth it never occurred to me to go trout fishing during the closed season. Somehow it seemed illegal. I thought sure as heck once I got out there some Fish and Wildlife officer would target me quickly for molesting fish that it were illegal to keep. Talk about paranoia. Forget the fact that someone might be out there that month fishing for fish other than trout!

I made some such comment a year or so earlier to Lester Walker, Jr., whose Aucilla River filling station/tackle shop is headquarters for fishermen in this area. His response was quick and direct. "Our business sure drops off then," he said. "But it's a great time to go fly fishing for seatrout." It was then that the logic of what he said hit me.

Of course it was! It was a perfect time to come fly fishing for trout. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Ah, that good ol' paranoia. I wondered how many other anglers stayed home thinking the same thing.

The next time I mentioned it, J.R. put me in touch with some fly flingers who were adept at doing this during February. So there we were rigged and ready for trout action without a single boat in sight. Almost scary!

"You sure those fish are still here?" I asked Randle. Not seeing anyone else on the river made me apprehensive.

"Well, the black drum have gone and most of the reds are small but the trout were here a couple days ago, more downriver than they were when it was colder."

"Sounds good to me."

Three fly fishermen trying to fish from the same boat is impractical even aboard Leger's spacious craft. But the solution was simple. Bow and stern anglers worked their fly rods while the middleman could switch with one or the other anglers when the action got going.

"You can cast around us with a lure if you want to help us find 'em," said Randle, "then we'll take turns." That was fine with me.

Normally I think about doing this kind of fishing at first light when fish seem more eager to feed. But our guide was more in tune with what the tide was doing. We met at the ramp at eight o'clock because earlier would improve nothing. The later the outgoing tide the faster it went and the better our chances of action from feeding fish.

We all had 8-weight rods. Leger and Cox were using full-sinking lines. Mine was an intermediate. The key would be to get our flies down in the water column, as the trout were most likely lying low in the deeper holes. Cox and Leger chose an unweighted glass minnow pattern that they had had luck with before. It was a pattern by Danny Riley, another member of the Tallahassee flyfishing club. Danny had made a dark, yellow-eyed glass minnow with a fine, long-trailing feather tail. Multi-colored glitter in the short, almost cylindrical epoxy body gave it good sparkle.