A shorebound angler displays a fine redfish.

In a flash the eagle swoops down in front of me to snatch a silver trout from the stream’s sparkling surface. Dripping diamonds as he soars aloft, the scene is right out of Hemingway’s Big Two-Hearted River in Michigan.

It’s a crisp, bright mid-February morning with the scent of pines heavy in the air. In the amber depths of the stream, nervous shadows of large trout shift back and forth along sandbars on both sides of the main flow. For an instant I’m stalking freshwater brown trout, but this is Florida and those shadows are supersized seatrout.

The fish were enjoying the warm outflow of the Gulf Power Lansing Smith Generating Plant, a quarter-mile of stream that empties into St. Andrew Bay in Panhandle Florida. The scene contrasted notably from the rest of the region. Record cold and torrential rains had flushed trout and redfish out of the river systems where they customarily wintered. Locals swore the fish were not in the bays where the water temperature was in the 50s. Anglers speculated that the trout and reds went where they usually go when things get really frigid for them: into the warmer depths of the Gulf of Mexico. Yet, there I was on an inland bay, looking at an 8-foot-deep stream full of trout, reds, catfish, mullet, stingrays and more.

The difference was the water emanating from the powerplant outfall, having coursed through and cooled the interior of the generator, was almost 20 degrees warmer than the surrounding bay. It was a hot tub for fish.

Schools of baitfish and juveniles concentrate near the plant’s main outflow while others seek out deep holes along the adjacent Warren Bayou. Because the fish are so vulnerable here, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission implemented a catch-and-release-only policy from November through the end of February. But if you’re itching for sport and can’t find it elsewhere, this is the place to be.

My introduction to this unusual area had come a week earlier at the invitation of Capt. Chris Parker, a Panama City Beach guide. I met Parker at the public boat ramp off the Hathaway Bridge in Panama City. With me was my fishing buddy, Doug Bogert. With Chris was our mutual friend, Capt. Bill Fowler.

From the bridge it is a 7-mile run due north up West Bay to the mouth of the power company’s outflow canal at Warren Bayou. You recognize the site by pilings near the opening of the canal leading toward the power plant. A restricted zone extends beyond these pilings. As you look up the canal, you see the distant tall stacks of the Gulf Power Company plant.

Before arriving at this point, however, we cut the motor and switched on the electric to cast the surrounding bay water. No fish bothered us in this cool water. Reading the water temperature on Chris’ skiff, we saw it gradually rise the closer we got to shore. Fishing instantly improved. Small trout eagerly grabbed our grub-tail jigs on practically every cast. Flattened hook barbs made for fast releases. The fish were concentrated in large schools along shore. A dirt road suggested that shore-based anglers could just as easily fish these waters.

Instead of heading up the canal, Chris worked us into a series of coastal grass coves with deeper holes and fishy looking points. Gold spoons and plastic shrimp fished slowly near the bottom turned up a few reds. Most of our action was with small trout, and an occasional keeper. We had a number of double and triple hookups. But it seemed the larger fish had to be fleet of fin to beat out the younger fish that pummeled our lures.

Occasionally one or the other of us hooked into something with more authority. Bill was the first. From the curve of his rod it looked like nothing less than a 99-pound bull red at least. But from the distant wave moving ahead of us up the lagoon, Bill knew that he had tangled with a stingray. As his line flew off the spool, he put a permanent stop to it and broke off at the leader.

Moments later I had the redfish of my dreams turning deep circles around our boat but by the time the critter came up it had turned into a large gafftopsail catfish that stubbornly clenched my plastic shrimp. Both Chris and Bill commented on how often anglers find sharks and rays in these warmer waters year-round. These waters indeed attract all kinds of fish, some at seemingly odd times of year. Ron Shafer from nearby Southport told me that he fished from shore at the head of the canal one winter day when he tossed out a surface plug and popped it a couple times. Something sucked it in and to Ron’s amazement out came a tail-walking tarpon about four feet long.

Ron laughed. “The fish made two swift circles around that tiny pool, caught everyone’s lines, then broke loose leaving us to sort out the mess.”

Obviously fish enjoy their warmwater spas as much as humans do.

Eventually we left the bayou and entered the canal. Within minutes we were into trout and small reds on every cast again. “Most years you can catch redfish here from 4 to 15 pounds with the average around 6 pounds,” Chris explained. “This year has been off, I think, due to the severe winter. The bayou is about 10 degrees cooler than the previous four or five years.”