It was a long trip home from Mozambique, and it was great to hit Florida in a cool snap. It felt good to wear jeans and have a long-sleeved shirt on over my basic T-shirt with a fish picture on the back.

The mullet have been so thick behind our town house on Manatee Creek, they have been scaring themselves into a frenzy. As they rush away from each other, the noise of the multiple simultaneous splashes is loud enough, with the sliding door open in the cool night air, to wake me up in the predawn hours. 

I have made a bunch of casts with several different plugs but have gotten no bites — zero — on plugs and have not bothered to throw the net. I caught one mullet, just the right size, on a “Poppa Dog,” but let him go.

I ran into a swarm of ladyfish and some jacks on a short pre-sunset trip in Hell’s Bay and had a blast. I have reports of good pompano fishing in the surf and in Hobe Sound, and in the Intracoastal and St. Lucie Inlet in Stuart. It’s a good season for local anglers for the next several months, both inshore and out in sailfish country.

I got a punch by winning in AA class sporting clays in the first Richard Merritt Memorial Sporting Clays Tournament. The Markham Park guys put on a great event. I knew  “Dickie” for several decades and am pleased to now have a big cowboy-style belt buckle to help keep him in mind.

Then last Saturday I went to my first “tower shoot” at Whit Hudson’s gorgeous Quail Creek Plantation. His manager, Fred Fanizzi, and the staff, who I have insinuated in earlier blogs must be forced to take a “nice pill” every morning, did an amazing job. 

The simulated British “driven bird” was my first one, but will not be the last. What a first-class day that was!

Erin and I are going to try to get to NYC to visit Bimini for Thanksgiving. I hope you all have a great holiday, and my thoughts are with all the folks who got beat up by Sandy. A hurricane is a huge nuisance in the hot Florida summer; having no heat for weeks in the cold weather would be even worse!    

 Best wishes,  

Peter B. Wright