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As I drifted over a deep grass flat in the shadow of John Ringling’s Ca’ d’Zan mansion on Sarasota Bay, I stripped my fly next to my flats skiff, mesmerized by the pattern’s wiggle. In an instant, there was a flash, as a fat 22-inch seatrout inhaled the fly and my fly line came tight. Not only did my new fly. . .
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