A Pine Island Sound redfish takes the bait.

Redfish as wary as bonefish? For some of us it’s hard to believe, but there are days on Pine Island Sound when the reds are as spooky and lure-shy as any gamefish in the world.

On a recent trip with local guide Steve Bailey, we poled across a grassflat, making little noise. A redfish was moving diagonally from left to right, about 30 feet ahead of the boat at 11 o’clock. The fish had ignored one perfect cast and, because it was moving fast, I was inclined to let it swim away.

“Try him again,” Bailey said.

I made one false cast to gauge the distance and gain line speed in the wind, then put the fly six feet ahead of the fish, letting it settle for a couple of seconds. I stripped once and the fish turned; stripped again and it shot ahead to grab the fly. When I set the hook the water erupted and a split second later my reel was sizzling as the red took off.

Ten minutes later, the hefty 29-incher was alongside the boat.

Our final approach to that fish was memorably dramatic, but the most important strategy decisions we made occurred minutes before.

It’s no secret that Pine Island Sound is one of the country’s premier redfish destinations. But if you think it’s because these fish are suckers, think again.

At the mouth of the Caloosahatchee River near Fort Myers, there’s a great mix of habitat: grassflats, oyster bars, mangroves, creeks, cuts, potholes and bayous. Resident juvenile reds grow fat and happy on abundant forage. The adults—over 30 inches or so—become seasonal visitors, returning home from their wanderings in the Gulf of Mexico.

There was a time here when redfish movements and habits were fairly predictable, and it was pretty easy to catch them by stalking them on the flats. In recent years, however, Pine Island reds seem to have wised up to angling pressure.

Mike McComas of Lee Island Outfitters/Orvis in Fort Myers, ranks Pine Island reds among the most challenging quarry anywhere. “These fish are every bit as wary and as smart as bonefish in the Keys,” says McComas, who fished for 17 years in the Ten Thousand Islands before switching to the Sound. Some would say that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but few would argue that where shallow-water fishing is concerned, the playing field has changed in favor of the fish.

Angling pressure and the growing number of boats on the water have fine-tuned the fish’s noise awareness to hair-trigger sensitivity. These are spooky fish and if you want to catch them you had better learn how to be quiet.

Those of us who snorkel or scuba dive know how water magnifies sounds. It also increases the distance sound travels. If you doubt this, put your head underwater some time when a high-powered flats boat is rooster-tailing by a half-mile or more away.

And don’t be lulled into complacency by the fact that fish lack external ears. Their internal hearing mechanisms are sensitive and finely tuned and their lateral lines register the tiniest water displacement.

The shallower the water the spookier the fish. This is especially evident in Pine Island Sound. But following a few basic procedures can greatly increase your chances of success.

The first is to stay as far as possible from likely redfish spots while running your boat at cruising speed. If you roar up to the edge of a flat on plane before shutting down you may see a series of wakes shooting away. Pull back the throttle to idle at least several hundred yards from the place you want to fish. Better still, shut down your running motor and use a trolling motor or pushpole to get to the spot. If there’s wind, try to use it to your advantage and drift down on the fish.

Step softly in the boat at all times, taking care not to bang gear or drop even small items. Be especially careful with tackle boxes, bait buckets and hatches, which can cause an echo effect.