Chasing Copper in Tampa Bay

A Redfish Tale from the Helm of Five O'Clock Charlie Tours

Redfish don’t come easy in Tampa Bay—and thank God for that. If they did, every flat would look like a Walmart parking lot and every weekend warrior would swear they’re a Tampa Bay fishing guide. Redfish make you earn it. They make you read water, feel tide, smell mud, and shut your mouth when the bay tells you to listen.

Out here, copper backs don’t just “bite.” They decide. And most days, they decide you your bait isn’t worth their time. These are another fish that can outsmart a an angler with the brain the size of a lima bean.

Reading the Bay Like an Old Chart

Targeting redfish in Tampa Bay starts long before a line hits the water. You’ve gotta learn the language of the place—moving water, wind direction, mullet flipping nervous, and that ugly, shallow water everyone else avoids. Redfish love ugly. Muddy. Skinny. Knee-deep water that smells like life and low tide.

Give me a falling tide on a grass flat with potholes and oyster edges, and I’ll show you fish. Give me dead water and a bluebird sky, and I’ll show you how to practice humility.

Stealth or Go Home

Redfish didn’t get old by being stupid. Slam a hatch, stomp the deck, fire up the motor too close, and they’re gone—pushing wakes like submarines headed for safer water. That’s why we drift, and ease in like we’re sneaking past a sleeping gator.

You don’t chase redfish.
 You intercept them.

Live Bait, Because We’re Not Here to Impress You Tube

Sure, artificials have their place—on calm mornings, happy fish, and days when the stars line up just right. But most days? Live bait rules the roost. A lively shrimp, pinfish or shiner minnow put in the right spot will out-fish your fancy lure nine times out of ten. That’s not opinion—that’s Captain John’s tide-tested truth.

We’re here to catch fish, not audition for a You Tube Channel..

The Eat

When a redfish eats, it’s not flashy. Sometimes the line just gets heavy. Sometimes it’s a thump like someone flicked your rod tip with a finger. And sometimes it’s chaos—mud boils, tail slaps, drag screaming like it owes money. Get ready to hold on with a light rod.

That first run will remind you why redfish are a Florida favorite. They don’t quit. They don’t panic. They just pull—hard and steady—like they’ve got somewhere important to be.

Respect the Fish, Respect the Bay

Most of the redfish we catch go back in the water, right where they belong. Tampa Bay has given a lot of gifts to a lot of people, and it doesn’t need any more taken than necessary. Handle them right. Wet hands. Quick photos. Let them swim off strong.

That way, they’ll be there tomorrow—maybe a little smarter, maybe a little meaner.

If you want to learn how to really target redfish in Tampa Bay—not just fling casts and hope—come spend a morning on the water with someone who’s burned enough fuel and skin to know better.

Just don’t expect easy fish.
 Redfish don’t hand out participation trophies.

—Captain John Blenker
Five O'Clock Charlie Tours

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