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For anglers, the announcement that the tide has gone slack is about as ominous as discovering that you left your bait back at the dock.

The tide goes slack (stops moving) four times a day round these parts twice at the end of the flood tide (incoming) and twice at the finish of the ebb tide (outgoing).

That’s four chances per day when the fishing goes to dead stop based on the well known piscatorial fact that fish quit biting when the water stops — well, maybe with a few exceptions (read on).

Now add to that the fact that the infinite number of tide tables published in newspapers, Web sites, fishing magazines, never have the same tidal time prediction. That just adds to the mystique and credence that fishing is far from an exact science.

But there you are out there on the briny with friends, or even worse, in-laws and have announced, based on the tidal flow, the arrival of the good bite, when the current goes dead stop. The looks you get could burn holes through your Orvis fishing shirt.

For fishing guides, those experiences can be considerably worse.

Can remember one trip in particular several years back where a gang of Canadians made a reservation with a casual dismissal of the recommendation that we change starting time to “give us a moving tide.” They wanted a early morning trip so they could make noon lunch at the club.

The backwater trip’s first stop was right at the beginning of the slack. Trying to explain what was about to happen drew frivolous glances from the crew. To them fishing was fishing no matter what.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a tap for nigh onto ten minutes.

First you get the giggles, “the fish are just waking up, be ready, eh?” and then the assertive glances and the hushed comments about the skill of the captain. “Told you we should have gone with Captain Harry.”

Then there was the day we had Mom and Dad and a gaggle of kids aboard and, right in the middle of our trip, the tide went slack and the fishing died.

Now, kids don’t take zero action lightly. They either are catching fish or they take your boat apart. We could see the backwater action dying by the minute that day and in order to prevent disassembly of my bread and butter, we had everyone put their rods down and announced a “fishing break.”

“OK, kids, this is just like recess at school and we’re going to take a 30 minute fishing break — what would everyone like to do?”

Bad idea!

We spent most of the half hour hiatus fending off suggestions like, “Lets go waterskiing,” or “Let’s explore that island over there where we saw the alligator.”

So, on most every occasion, the slack water presents a problem to the angler. But you’ll recall the adage that fishing is “not an exact science.”

This situation, that occurred just last week, will prove that point.

Our anglers that given morning were from the Garden State. Lots of “Shore experience” for Mom and Dad and three youngsters. They all nodded in understanding that we would have our water go slack mid trip and that the fishing would slow.

The first two hours of the trip were just terrific. On the incoming tide we worked some docks north of the island and it was one of those early mornings where you just couldn’t miss.

The strength of the current that morning was strong mid-waterway but we chose to work the slower water on the docks far off on the edges. The take was red hot. We had a couple of nice redfish to keeper size (all were released) and a least a half dozen puppy redfish that were moving in off the mud shallows and hungry. The kids were dazzled with the sheepshead bite and took pictures of the sheepies dentures. One of the boys stated that the teeth of his sheepshead “had better choppers that some of the girls he went out with.”

It was literally non-stop with even a flounder and a surprise pompano taking a bait. That is, until the water put on the brakes and we neared slack tide.

As is customary, we took the slowing water opportunity to move downstream and set up on a spot that would be our great opportunity when the tide turned on the other way.

We closed in our new spot; set forward anchor and then a stern anchor to hold us in place against the wind as the tide slackened and changed. We were totally casual in our pace as we tried to make the location change a time killer as we anticipated the new tide.

Everyone bought onto to the event, except one. Her name was Emily and she was 8 or 9 going on 20.

“Captain, will you bait my hook?”

“Be better if we wait, Emily, but if you insist...”

“I insist,” Emily giggled.

So we baited up and tossed her bait back between two tree branches that dangled provocatively in the still water. She sat down and managed her rod with devout attention.

That is until her Mom pulled out the sandwiches and asked who’s hungry.

Emily took about five milliseconds to bury the rod in the rod holder and leap towards the food.

About half a sandwich later, her brother shouted, “Emily, look at your rod.” The rod was doubled over and surging back and forth as the drag released the light line. Emily had a strike that was quickly leaving for points south.

And all of this on slack tide. Whoa!

Emily and her Dad jumped on the rod and for the next 20 minutes were engaged in a give and take tussle with a black drum that we eventually netted after a long series of screams and yelps.

The drum was of formable size and was selected as the evening meal for the family. I didn’t dare say anything more about the problems with slack tide.

As we neared the dock, Emily leaned over and whispered, “You were just joshing us about that slack tide stuff, weren’t you, Captain?”

“You’re right, Emily...” The customer is always right!

Capt. Bill Walsh owns an established Marco Island charter fishing business and holds a current U.S. Coast Guard license. Send comments or questions to dawnpatrolcharters@compuserve.com