Landlocked redfish schools are heavily fished and wary of boat anglers. Head 'em off on foot.

Some scientists say reds got used to spawning in these passes and their homing instinct kept them doing it there after the passes had passed into the past.

Some say the reds simply appreciate the spawning-friendly salinity of the lagoon.

Senior Aquatics Scientist for a NASA subcontractor, Dr. Grant Gilmore, a man clearly preordained to study fishes for the government, thinks the passes probably were too shallow and unreliable as spawning areas and a process of natural selection may have taken place favoring reds that could do it anywhere.

The upper end of the Banana River is where the other couch potato reds hang out. From a helicopter Gilmore has seen 5,000 to 10,000 three-foot-plus reds congregated in the No-Motor Zone. “It was an awesome sight,” he says. North of the NASA Causeway they make their babies.

A genetic difference comparable to Red Sox versus Cubs fans is suspected between reds of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico, and some researchers would like to show that the lengthy isolation of Mosquito Lagoon redfish has made them physically distinct. Gilmore finds this distinction likely and also thinks some outside reds may invade the Lagoon to mate, adding a little diversity like bottlenose dolphins are known to do or, again, country humans who head to the city each Friday night. He hopes to prove this cruising behavior soon by tracking offshore reds with new “acoustic tags” and seeing if one of them winds up in town.

When stalking Mosquito Lagoon redfish, there is the feeling that you really are entering their territory, not just a place these grazing fish are passing through like you on your way to traffic court. This is their hood and it’s a lively one. In fact, a lot of fishing guides consider it their lively hood. And many others join them in hoping this one-of-a-kind backwater remains one of Mother Nature’s enduring emblems.

Mark continued to find schools of redfish in nooks and crannies because it’s his territory, too. After we confirm the fish are there, it’s a matter of slowly creeping up in the boat or sliding out, bottom permitting, and walking up on them. I often get the feeling they know we’re here but they refuse to acknowledge our existence in their realm. This of course can lead to hookups.

Usually it goes like this. “Yep. There they are. You go that way and I’ll go this way.”

“This way” always seems to hold the fish but I get enough action to keep my rod limber, not to mention the incidental ladyfish, seatrout and tarpon. Sometimes it’s “Look at the size of that tail!” because there are some huge redfish living there, growing larger all the time, not leaving, just getting bigger, the only place in the hemisphere we can catch Mosquito Lagoon redfish.

Unlike other spawning populations that transition to offshore, high salinity allows Mosquito adult reds to procreate at home.

A UNIQUE POPULATION OF RED DRUM

Redfish, red, red drum, channel bass and “Darn-it!” all refer to the same fish.

Male redfish drum when spawning. Further research will be needed to determine whether this is to attract mates or scientists, as it works equally well for both.

A lone drumming red sounds like a bongo player, a school becomes a steady hum. Traditionally hydrophones, a kind of underwater hearing aid, have been used to locate drumming drums. Acoustic sensors are a new product implanted into the abdomen of a fish which identifies him uniquely to the receiver with a range of about 300 yards of unobstructed water. Dr. Grant Gilmore hopes to attach receivers permanently to all the Indian River bridges, which will render a fascinating account of the travels of redfish and seatrout.

Redfish spawn between sunset and midnight. Gilmore thinks they could travel from as far as the Edgewater area to spawn in the south end of Mosquito Lagoon. This would allow six to seven hours to return by dawn, which is why many of these reds can be seen hailing a crab. With the introduction of acoustic tags, scientists have been shocked at the distances fish travel, including fish previously thought to be stay-at-homes. One snook went a mile in 20 minutes, then later returned.