Ungrateful?

Out for the evening tide, hoping for better than yesterday.

Normal service resumed in the beautiful light of the setting sun. One fish became two and then after spotting more golden, flickering tails some 200yds distant, three. Then another shoal popped up and three became four, a new record. 

The sun was gone, I should have been more than happy to head home but kept on standing there peering into the gloom. Just one more.

Finally I spotted a patch of waves moving against the wind, too far away. I edged closer and it appeared again but swung away from the cast. In the end it appeared maybe ten times over half an hour before the line jumped tight and the biggest fish of the evening careered around the flat.

Jut one more. Still standing, still watching. Another patch of 'nervous water' but too far out. Five minutes passed, nothing more. The water was creeping up to my thighs and suddenly it didn't seem to clever to be waiting around in darkness with the sharks and stingrays...

But still just one more... Line out ready to cast as I stumbled back home. Yet another set of wakes appeared in the shadows of the shoreline. More bones? As I stripped the fly back in small jigs the wake resolved itself into two converging domes of water. Unfortunately my brain made the connection too late, no more room to speed things up. 

Hunting jacks expect their prey to flee at top speed, without it they don't seem to commit to the attack. A couple of thumps on the line and they veered away to terrorise the flat - an explosion of water behind me a few seconds later indicating the possible demise of another baby snapper...