Which is to say that it’s always been dark green, murky and will probably always have rafts of foam, feathers, dead carp, plastic, Styro and various bird carcasses that gather on the north ends. These nooks, towards Aimee’s church and the storm drain outfall, are where the wind and currents gather such detritus. You’ll notice the southern end, towards 101, is usually cleaner.

There have always been the occasional dead duck. Worse are the fly-blown carp. You smell them from yards away. But the place still harbors some amazing fish. The loss of the panfish — bluegills, sunnies, crappie — is a bad loss: they are the fish for kids. Few are left due I believe to the introduction of the Florida bass, a ravenous monster. You might see me there with the fly rod, stop and say hello.

Darrell K.