With a few hours to kill, George Smith and I drive west out Griffin Road, paralleling the long, straight C-11 canal. George is new to fly fishing and from the look on his face, he hasn't become a believer. Still, I've convinced him to lob a small, weighted fly into the clean water flowing out of several culverts, so far without result. When we grind to our third stop, I see that the water's clear enough to see sunken weeds so despite his protestations, I talk him into making a few more casts. He immediately hooks a fish that pops his leader. Suddenly, he's jazzed. I've seen the look before. If I can keep him going for a few more casts, I know the peacock bass are going to own him.

George re-rigs with a No. 6 purple Flashabugger and continues casting. It doesn't take long for another peacock to notice and within minutes, he's beaming over a shining pound-and-a-halfer with a hump on its head. It's his first and I'm happy for him but there's room for both of us and probably, more fish.

During the next half hour, I manage to catch two small peacocks and miss a dandy. George lands a bigger one, which considering his cracker box rig, is a feat. I'm concentrating on the big one I lost (they'll bite more than once), when I hear him yell.

Sure enough, he's hooked the big fish on a 6-foot combination fly/spin rig that he'd purchased from a cigarette company's accessory catalog. He's never caught much on it, at least nothing that could really run drag and his reel doesn't have one anyway. I wince every time the runaway handle raps his knuckles.

By now I'm excited enough to drop my rod and slide down the bank while offering encouragement, but after a few minutes of winding and cursing, George manages to beach the fish without my help. When I hold it up, he grins. It's a doozy alright, but no bigger than many of the peacocks we catch hereabouts. I snap a picture and slide the fish back while George catches his breath. When I look at his tiny outfit, I suddenly realize that he's never smoked. 

Anyone who chases butterfly peacocks will discover that they, just like native largemouths, prefer clean, clear water. Accordingly, it's always a good idea to check outflows, or any potential fishing site for that matter, for clarity. Whenever I'm out on Griffin Road, for instance, I make it a habit to stop at several of the culverts that pour into C-11. These miniature spillways drain runoff from adjacent housing subdivisions and like other sources of moving current, play host to hungry peacock bass. Peacocks like current and after heavy rains particularly, these culverts generate substantial flows. If you look into the water, you'll see the connection.

Right away, you'll notice the tiny minnows that wash out with the weeds and current. The local peacock population understands and whenever conditions are right, gathers downcurrent to feed. In some instances, one side of a current plume may be clearer than another. Without further explanation, that's the side to fish. Whenever water in a lake or canal is uniformly cloudy due to construction or weed-elimination efforts, it's time to look elsewhere. Canals alongside Flamingo Road, US 27, and a number of other western Broward roadways usually offer clearwater access.

In short, once you understand water movement within the limited range of peacock bass, you're on your way to catching fish. 

Since off-color water severely hampers fishing, checking out shallow lateral canals is always worthwhile, so long as the water is warm enough for peacocks. Butterfly peacocks are tropical fish, accustomed to feeding in 80 degree-plus water. In Broward County where water temperature-wise, is considered marginal come winter, locating warm water is every bit as important as finding moving current. When Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission biologist Paul Shafland originally stocked peacocks back in 1984, he looked for waterways deep enough to escape winter chilling. As it turned out, most of these were in Miami-Dade County but several Broward systems, including C-11 and C-14 also qualified. Now, thanks in large part to the effect of several warm winters, peacocks inhabit nearly all of western Broward, from the easternmost flood control dikes to the far limits of the Glades.

Like their Miami cohorts, fly fishermen from nearby Ft. Lauderdale soon learned to tap into the resource. And, they discovered that culverts and spillways are only part of the picture. Peacocks cruise along ledges or weedlines between feeding forays, which adds to their vulnerability. Admittedly, peacocks may be the ultimate freshwater shoreline fish but a small boat can provide access to otherwise unreachable lies.

Peacock expert Carlos Hidalgo's father-in-law lives on a Hollywood, Florida lake. As a result, Carlos gets an opportunity to work a privately-owned shoreline from his small johnboat. Although boats aren't neccessary, Carlos appreciates the solitude. He casts to ledges and sunken weeds and in the fall when the peacocks are fattening up for winter, he covers the swirls. You could say that while fishing from his aluminum platform, he's literally caught enough fish to fill a book.

Every summer, butterfly peacocks begin their annual spawning ritual. By then, South Florida's rainy season is in full swing with water levels at their highest. Broward's peacocks love the high water. Accordingly, they're quick to take advantage of swollen waterways to build their nests in the nearshore gravel where later, they'll deposit their eggs. Despite their apparent vulnerability, they're actually quite at home so long as they can hide against a rocky ledge or weedbed. Shallow water is a prerequisite for spawning, which brings me to a story.