Bones of the Bahamas Bonefish are born scared, live jumpy, and in the end probably die in terror.
Fear is in their bones.
They patrol silent, primordial places in aquamarine waters where the sudden sounds are those of startled death, near-death, or escape. We go in search of the intense moments there, instants when we are alone and wading a quiet flat and large slivers of gray appear like anticipated apparitions. Our cast is breathless and hopeful. We await the recognition, the rush with that urgent bow-wave behind the retrieved fly. The hookup is explosive.