Hanging on the beach with Rummy… my faithful “snook dog”!!

The air on Lovers Key was thick and cool, smelling of salt and wet sand as the first sliver of dawn bled rose and gold across the Gulf of Mexico. Accessible by boat or land this unspoiled barrier island felt like the edge of the world, and I stood ankle-deep in the gentle churn of the Gulf surf, my 7-foot spinning rod already rigged. I used a simple setup: a light fluorocarbon leader tied to a single, free-lined a 6” white GULP bait, aiming to mimic the small baitfish that cruise the clear, shallow water of the first trough. Snook, often called “linesiders” for the prominent black stripe running down their bodies, are predators that patrol this very zone at first light, hunting in the low visibility before the sun gets too high.

I walked south along the shore, keeping my casts parallel to the beach, flicking the jig out about ten feet and retrieving it with short, sharp twitches to make it dart like a panicked baitfish. I moved slowly, scanning the water beyond my lure with polarized sunglasses. The water was remarkably clear, a turquoise gradient over the white, shell-strewn sand. Suddenly, about twenty yards ahead, a dark shadow materialized—a wide, unmistakable torpedo shape gliding through the shallow water just inside the wave break. It was a massive snook, easily in the twenty-pound range, patrolling the sandbar edge with focused, predatory intent.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I froze, taking two silent steps backward, allowing the fish to continue its course without being spooked. The perfect moment arrived: the fish was slightly past me, heading into the next section of the trough. I cast well ahead of it, letting the jig settle out of its line of sight. As the fish drew closer to where the lure sat on the bottom, I gave one sharp twitch. The jig flashed white and darted. The snook reacted instantly, accelerating and inhaling the lure in a rush of water. There was a distinct, explosive pop sound—the signature strike of a linesider—and the reel screamed as the fish bolted for deeper water.

The battle was frantic and unforgettable. This fish fought with the raw, stubborn power that makes snook one of Florida’s premier game fish. It charged and turned, using the surging waves to its advantage, making my light tackle bend into a deep arc. I worked the rod, pumping and reeling, slowly gaining ground. After a punishing few minutes, I managed to steer the magnificent fish past the main breakers and onto the wet sand. Its body was a striking golden-yellow, nearly thirty-five inches long, with that bold, black lateral line standing out against its shimmering silver scales.

Kneeling quickly at the water’s edge for a triumphant, solo photo (which I imagine looking like this), I supported its belly with one hand and held the lure with the other, capturing the moment. After a quick snap, I submerged the beautiful creature in the shallow water, gently moving it back and forth to push water over its gills until it gave a powerful kick. The snook vanished back into the turquoise Gulf, leaving nothing but a swirl of water and a memory of a perfect morning on the deserted beach of Lover’s Key.