Spoons are among top search lures in shallower stretches of tidal creeks.

There’s nothing quite like an early fall day in North Florida. Warm sun and scrubbed skies, clearing waters, all of the ingredients that make me want to tuck into small waters, marsh creeks in particular. Some folks avoid such places in the dead of summer, when bugs out-bite the fish. But cooler, drier air turns the fish on and the bugs off.

Last fall, my sons Eric and Matt and I enjoyed classic marsh creek redfishing out of Crescent Beach, Florida. Timing our fishing hours with ebbing tides paid off handsomely. Arriving at a favorite nameless (really) creekmouth right at prime time, I told the boys, “We’ve got three good hours of ideal falling water.”

Both boys cut their teeth on this type of fishing, and have never lost their enthusiasm for it. They tied jigs to their spinning rods and were ready and raring to cast. My depthfinder showed the water depth dropped from four feet to six feet, then finally 10 to over 15 feet deep. I shut down the outboard, hopped to the bow and dropped the electric. Steering the boat into the current, I said, “Work this hole with your jigs, guys, while I cast up the creek with my spoon.” As is my drill in the creeks, we start with lures, and then switch to shrimp and mud minnows as a last resort. Eric’s rod arched tightly, and his fish took 20 yards of line right off the bat. Matt reeled in his jig and cast to the spot where Eric’s fish struck. He started a bottom-bouncing retrieve, and then set the hook solidly into another fish. You’d think I would tie on a jig, but stuck to my guns, making repeated casts far up one of the shallow creek arms with my gold rattle spoon. As I worked it back, a V wake formed near the grassy bank and the fish made a quick rush at my lure. The collision had redfish written all over it, and a few minutes later I landed a chunky, copper-colored 6-pounder, just as the boys brought their fish to the boat. I expected to see them with redfish, but not that big. Eric’s was a 15-pounder, and Matt had another dandy weighing just over 10 pounds.

We worked the creek junction for another half hour with jigs, spoons, spinnerbaits and eventually shrimp and mud minnows and boated a couple dozen fish. Most were sizeable reds, though we also nailed a few other creek regulars—black drum, sheepshead and a pair of good-size flounder. The oddball was a bluefish that hit a jig. We left the hole as the tide and the bite slowed, and headed up one of the narrow creek arms where battalions of fiddler crabs crawled in formation over the exposed mud banks. From a distance, you’d swear that the dark ooze had a life of its own.

“There’s one reason why this creek is so full of big redfish, guys,” I said, pointing to the scurrying fiddlers. With the outboard tilted up, I electric motored the skiff upstream until it shallowed up to the point I had to pole to deeper water farther up the creek where I could run the electric again. Be careful not to get stranded, but low water is the best time to fish, and learn little creeks, because you can easily see all the shallows, points and submerged structure.

“How far up are we gonna go?” asked Matt, anxious to get back to fishing.

Angler bows up on a hefty red (pictured on the next page).

“Until we find fish, just like those up ahead,” I said pointing off the bow. Just out of casting range, prominent wakes cut the surface of the creek where it narrowed to only 10 yards across. I nudged the skiff quietly forward with the electric.

“Don’t make a sound, don’t even shuffle your feet,” I whispered. “I’ll tell you when to cast.” A black-spotted tail nearly the size of a broom broke the surface against the mud bank. And I knew there were others near that tailer.

“Go ahead, cast way ahead of ’em, and reel your lures back to the fish slowly, otherwise they may spook,” I instructed. Both boys cast at once, and crawled their plastic jerkbaits along bottom. Without warning, Matt reared back on a good red. And though its schoolmates spooked instantly, a fish took Eric’s lure on the run, and they played out the double in tight quarters. We stalked and caught five more reds and two flounder before quitting and heading back to the boat ramp late that afternoon, after the ebb.