Redfish & Lowcountry Love

Rick Crawford

As I was driving over the bridge from Sullivan’s Island yesterday, I was thinking about how fortunate I am to live in such a beautiful place as the Lowcountry. Aside from a four-year stint in Colorado and Wyoming, I have called the Lowcountry home for thirty-one of my thirty-five years. Born and raised in Savannah, GA, I currently reside in Charleston, SC with my wife, and we are grateful to call the Lowcountry home. There are many things to like about Lowcountry living, including: the Lowcountry’s storied history, exceptional food and stunning beauty. But it’s not just the preserved historic buildings and beautiful public parks; Fried chicken, grits and boiled peanuts; or the vibrant pink and white azaleas and massive live oak trees covered in grey Spanish moss. As much as I love all of the aforementioned aspects of the Lowountry, there is one detail that is my absolute favorite…fly fishing for tailing redfish in the marsh on a flood tide.

I love the sight of bright green spartina grass and blue summer skies as I paddle with the tide on my kayak; the squishy sound of black pluff mud getting suctioned from my wading boots as I exit my kayak; and the grey-shelled perriwinkle snails making their slow climb to the tips of spartina grass while I tie on a fly that hopefully gets the job done.

I love the sight of white Egrets snacking on tasty morsels and brown fiddler crabs hurriedly scattering as I enter a flat; the anticipation as the tide begins to slowly flood the marsh until the water has risen to just above my ankle and I know it’s enough water to deliver tailing redfish; and the sight of happy tailing redfish sometimes completely vertical with their tails wagging out of the water, and other times with only the corner of their tails cruising just above the water’s surface as they scour for fiddler crabs.

I love the feeling of disbelief and gratitude as a redfish grabs my fly and makes its first run going ballistic and thrashing in the shallow water; the orange and golden color of its scales as I rest on my knees, heart beating fast, sweat dripping from my brow and hands slightly trembling as I admire the fish; and the spots on its tails with my favorite feature, the beautiful blue that, perhaps not coincidentally is the same shade of blue on a blue crab, on the tip of the redfish’s tail.

Finally, I love releasing the redfish and the all-too-rare feeling of complete satisfaction as I contemplate the kind of person I want to be. One that is cognizant enough to recognize that scarce feeling of satisfaction and taking only what one needs, or someone that must have more to perpetuate the adrenaline and the sensation of the tug on the end of his line? Maybe one day I’ll know the answer, but for now, I think I’ll go see if I can find another tailing redfish in the Lowcountry!