For those who’ve never had the pleasure of spending the summer months in the deep south, I encourage you to pay a visit for some fishing and suffer alongside the initiated.
It’s hot. It’s the kind of hot that you can’t understand until you experience it for yourself. The marriage of the heat on the ground and the afternoon showers produces the kind of humidity that encourages sweat and deters comfortable breathing. It is the primary complaint of every Mississippian for the best of 3 months.
And why, you might ask, would anyone want to experience such a thing? The fact is this: weird things happen in the natural world during this time of the year, and these things can be pretty cool. The rumor is that the fishing is awful. That’s partially true, except for the 2 hours surrounding sunrise and sunset. These small time slots are when the rivers and lakes come alive during the summer, and they offer some of the best topwater and dry fly fishing of the entire year.
What makes these sweet little time slots even better are these aforementioned ‘weird things.’ Some species of native animals are most active during this time of the year—especially the reptiles. On a recent outing in efforts to catch up with a good friend in a socially distant manner, I made the trip to a small WMA pond down a foot trail perfect for dragging a kayak. The surface activity was promising, and the bluegill proved to be active. I was dragging a popper near the line of some lily pads, and I saw the back of what I was sure was a massive largemouth bass moving toward my fly. By the time the creature ate, I realized that I’d just fed a small alligator.
Luckily, I was able to pull the fly out of its mouth before it began to contact its inevitably present mother with a high-pitched cry for help. Between my friend, Cody, and myself, we managed to get follows from 5 baby gators and accidentally feed 2 of them. After feeding an equal amount of fish and alligators, the looming bubble trail of what proved to be the mother gator escorted us out of the pond, where we stumbled out of our kayaks to the safety of hard ground.
After shaking off the uneasiness of an encounter with a large alligator, we agreed that the experience of getting so many follows from the babies was a special one. We saw these animals behave in ways we hadn’t before.
On the walk to the car, we coined the spot “Gator Pond.”
On another recent solo trip I made to a lake only a couple of miles from Gator Pond, I was attempting to catch some bass from a kayak. I never saw the green flash of a bass that evening, but I was able to feed some of the strongest bluegill that I’ve ever encountered. When the first fish ate the popper, I gave it a lazy trout-set. Seconds later, I was clearing the fly line on what I thought for sure was a nice bass. I instantly began lamenting my lazy set as the fish put a nice bend in my 6 weight. I was shocked that the fish didn’t come off, but I was amazed when I looked at the water to the side of my kayak only to see the shoulders of a massive bluegill. The fish was fierce, with razor-sharp dorsal fins emerging from the tiger stripe pattern of its skin. As I let it go, I found myself more excited about the idea of catching a similarly-sized ‘gill than I was a 5 pound bass.
I was able to feed 2 more brutish bluegill that evening. During the fight with the last one, I noticed an object dart past the end of my rod tip. Only a moment passed when I saw another object follow suit. After landing and releasing the fish, I began to squint into the fading light to investigate. After my eyes were able to adjust, I realized there was a swarm of small animals circling the lake. What I initially thought was group of summer birds was actually a colony of what I guessed were Brazilian free-tailed bats.
I admired them briefly but admittedly turned for the bank after a couple seconds. Awesome experience, but still kinda creepy.
The summer sunset brings a change in environment that is particularly unique compared to the other seasons. Fall and spring are great fishing and comfortable weather. Winter is solemn and slow. Summer is the wild card of the bunch. The dog days expose the dedicated, and the dedicated are often rewarded.
Randolph Mikell is a Christ-follower and outdoorsman. A native Mississippian, Mikell decided to explore his local fly fishing scene. He found an unsurprisingly small number of fly anglers and a large number of fish willing to take flies. His time in the outdoors has brought about friendships and experiences that he cherishes continually.