Readers should note that the past several winters have been colder than usual, seriously affecting Broward’s peacock populations. In addition to largemouths, peacocks and the occasional oscar, Bob encounters other interlopers.

Steep banks with irregular vegitation or other natural cover often hold fish.

“I know there’s snook and tarpon at Palm Aire. In fact, I once landed a tarpon there on a black skimmer jig.”

I can comment on the C-14’s tarpon with some authority. We might add that in addition to jigs, these fish willingly strike flies. Incidentally, we’ve always had our best luck on black or yellow marabou muddlers tied on No. 6 freshwater streamer hooks.

With the recent controversy over exotics, I was curious if Bob ever encountered the infamous Asian snakehead. As it turned out, his answer was an emphatic “no.”

While he’s always willing to tackle the unusual, Bob’s happy enough catching largemouths. He explained that the farther he travels from the main arteries like the C-14 and Hillsboro canals, the better bass fishing gets. Around here there’s lots of water, so take your cue from the map.

Several weeks ago, Bob called to say he’d released another 5-pounder. By then, my curiosity was getting the better of me. According to the message, he was “still wearing a shirt and tie” when he stopped near Lox Road in Parkland. He quickly added: “It was 7:30 and getting dark, but I managed to catch that fish on my second cast.”

Bob’s methods are far from arbitarary. He later explained that in addition to working lures along the near shoreline, he often casts them onto the opposite bank and pulls them into the water.

“I’m not sure why. But it works.”

Incidentally, when it comes to artificials, Bob’s favorites include salt-impregnated worms rigged Texas-style and stickbaits. He added that the classic Zara Spook in clear finish is another all-time favorite.

“I catch a lot of fish beneath the surface. However, I’ll make the switch to topwater whenever I see bass chasing bait.”

I knew Bob was onto something. It goes without saying I had to see it for myself.

Sarah and Wayne Botto live near Bob. I’ve known Sarah since she managed a local photo-processing lab. We still stay in touch; in fact, when she asked about my recent fishing escapades, I was surprised to hear that she wanted to try bass fishing. Although she hadn’t fished since childhood, I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.

We met Bob in the parking lot of a strip mall. While busy State Road 7 seemed an unlikely place to launch a fishing expedition, after exchanging pleasantries, we loaded our gear and headed toward residential Parkland. At Bob’s direction, we entered a posh subdivision and eventually stopped alongside a tranquil canal.

Actually, I don’t know if you’d call it a canal or a lake, but the entire area is laced with similar waterways. A few minutes later, we were walking the grassy banks and casting plastics of one type or another. I’ll admit to being skeptical. But after watching a nice bass gulp a mouthful of baitfish, I quickly changed my tune.

The fishing started slow but steady. Every ten minutes or so, one of us either caught a fish or got a strike. Joggers and dog-walkers passed us on several occasions, but their major reaction was to wave. I was surprised no one objected to our presence. Yet according to Sarah: “We didn’t exactly look like felons.”

Women are usually right about these matters. To underscore the point, she promptly hooked a nice bass which she landed and released with a minimum of assistance. Frankly, I was impressed.

As the day wore on, we ended up fishing our way from Parkland back toward Tamarac where our journey had begun. The bass obliged at every stop and while some fell prey to worms and shads, a few boldly crashed topwater plugs.

I noticed we mostly fished where culverts passed underneath roads, an observation that Bob was happy to elaborate on:

“There’s a million of these places. They offer spectacular fishing after a heavy rain when the bass stack up on the downstream side.”

I have to add that since I saw Bob last, he’d become a regular fishing machine. I mean, I couldn’t get the guy to quit. I’m sure it goes along with the executive relaxation thing, but the later it got, the more the fish turned on. Finally, it was getting too late for pictures.

Just about the time Sarah reminded me that enough was enough, I noticed Bob fighting something more substantial. I suspected a mudfish, but when he lifted his victim onto the grass, we both got a big surprise:

“It’s one of those damn snakeheads.”

The fish certainly resembled a mudfish. However, a telltale spot near its tail gave away the exotic’s identity. A few days later, the folks at Florida’s Non-Native Lab in Boca Raton informed me that snakeheads make great tablefare. At the time, however, the look on Sarah’s face suggested otherwise.

The snakehead was the only “monster” we caught that day. Nevertheless, we enjoyed several hours of non-stop action. While Bob claimed we hadn’t scratched the surface, I’d seen enough to recognize the area’s potential.

FS