Fresh MOSH (Museum Of Science & History) Fishing Reports

Slot fish are everywhere. Overslot fish? Oh yeah, we’ve seen a few that look like they skipped leg day at the gym and just worked on growing a forehead you could screen a movie on. Best bait? Whatever you throw at them—cut bait, live bait, even that weird rubber chicken I found in the bottom of the tackle box. (Kidding... mostly.) - Captain Austin

Clients have been reeling them in left and right, grinning like they just discovered beer was calorie-free. We had one guy swear he saw his redfish wink at him before spooling half his reel—either that or he was suffering heat stroke, but hey, still counts. - Captain Austin

The fish must’ve heard he served two tours, because they surrendered immediately. One flounder even played dead before it got to the boat. The man caught so many fish, I started checking to make sure his hooks weren’t magnetic.

TANNIC WATER ADVENTURES FISHING REPORT – WHERE THE FISH ARE BITING AND THE CAPTAIN’S SUNBURN HAS A ZIP CODE Well folks, grab your tackle boxes and your emotional support beer because this week’s fishing report is hotter than a June wedding in a Florida church with no A/C. The morning bite on the St. Johns has been downright disrespectful. We pulled up to the first spot and the fish were already laughing at us like they’d read the Yelp reviews. Tossed a live shrimp under a popping cork and BAM!—first cast, trout hits it so hard I thought it owed him money. Redfish are schooling tighter than tourists at a “free samples” tray. We spotted a pod tailing so perfectly, I swear one of them winked at me. Client hooked up and the drag screamed like my ex when I bought another rod. Fish ran under the boat, did a full Nascar lap, then gave us the fin and spit the hook. Classic.

TANNIC WATER ADVENTURES FISHING REPORT – WHERE THE FISH ARE BITING AND THE CAPTAIN’S SUNBURN HAS A ZIP CODE Well folks, grab your tackle boxes and your emotional support beer because this week’s fishing report is hotter than a June wedding in a Florida church with no A/C. The morning bite on the St. Johns has been downright disrespectful. We pulled up to the first spot and the fish were already laughing at us like they’d read the Yelp reviews. Tossed a live shrimp under a popping cork and BAM!—first cast, trout hits it so hard I thought it owed him money. Redfish are schooling tighter than tourists at a “free samples” tray. We spotted a pod tailing so perfectly, I swear one of them winked at me. Client hooked up and the drag screamed like my ex when I bought another rod. Fish ran under the boat, did a full Nascar lap, then gave us the fin and spit the hook. Classic.

The redfish are hotter than a sunscreen bottle left on the console. They’ve been schooling tighter than a middle school dance, and if you cast anything that remotely resembles food—or even a bad haircut—they’re crushing it like they owe it money. We rolled up at first light and immediately spotted tails waving like they were at a redfish rave. The first cast was textbook. The second cast hit a mullet. The third hit my hat. But after a few mechanical adjustments (and one emotional breakdown), we were locked in.