A quiet approach in a canoe allowed Pete Elkins and the author to enjoy multiple hookups.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" My words of gratitude came in rapid succession as we landed our third redfish in less than an hour. But this success was a long time coming. It didn't come easy. For several weeks, I had known that there were schools of redfish on the shallow flats at the southern end of Mosquito Lagoon. Until now, however, I had been unable to catch more than one or two fish a day, no matter what I seemed to do. I was about ready to give up.

I changed locations from the grassflats to the shoreline to culvert mouths, hoping to find feeding fish. I repeatedly changed my method of retrieval, and changed lures until there was nothing left to try. I even waited to see if the fish that I located would feed on a different tide. Nothing seemed to work.

Rather than giving up, I called my long-time fishing friend, Pete Elkins, explained the problem to him, and asked his opinion on what I should do. What had become very frustrating for me turned to anticipation when he offered to come down from Alabama and see if we could find a solution to the reluctant redfish of the Indian River system.

Florida's Indian River offers the best opportunity in the country to catch bragging-sized redfish in shallow water. That's a bold statement, but since the banning of the nets just a few years ago the number and size of redfish has increased dramatically. The word has long been out that massive schools of redfish roam the extensive grassflats of the Indian River, the Banana River, and Mosquito Lagoon. As a result, fishing pressure has increased significantly. Today's flats fishermen are good. They have better boats, improved tackle and are more informed than ever. Still, redfish continue to frustrate such anglers most of the time. At times, redfish can be difficult to find. They also spook rather easily. When you can get close enough to cast to them, redfish sometimes refuse every spoon, jig, and plug that you cast.

When I phoned Pete and asked him for advice, he first asked me why I thought it was that the redfish had refused all of my offerings. I really dislike it when people respond to a question with another question, but upon reflection, the answer was simple: fishing pressure, and the fact that caught-and-released fish survive, become educated, and the dumb ones become fillets. Because of the fishing pressure on the Indian River, redfish feed at different times and places. They have learned to recognize the most commonly fished baits, and they have developed a fear for their ultimate predator, the flats fisherman.

But redfish are redfish. They are going to continue rooting around for small crabs, seizing an unwary shrimp, or taking a fingerling mullet that stands out from the rest. On the Indian River system, it's just that reds are going to greater lengths to avoid contact with fishermen. Places which have traditionally held fish no longer seem to have the same numbers. As more anglers learn of redfish hotspots, the fish simply relocate. They don't move to better feeding places (one has to assume that the hotspot was the best feeding place), but they do move to a place where they can feed with less pressure. Even when redfish remain in a hard-fished area, they often refuse lures that worked so well in the past.

Like all fish, redfish detect vibrations in the water. Lures emit a repetitive vibration when they wobble. In time, the fish catch on to the very lures they've been caught on, or have been bombarded by time and time again. It's simply learned behavior. If you don't think fish are capable of catching on, you don't give 'em enough credit. To help solve my reluctant redfish problem, Pete has a sugestion: When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Or in this case, do as the redfish do-get away from the crowds.

"We need to fish some good water that other flats fishermen are not fishing," Pete began.

"But they're everywhere!" I responded.