MIAMI -- Before dawn, the west wind had been clocked at more than 20 miles per hour at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's Fowey Light weather buoy. That meant it likely would blow a virtual gale by midmorning. Homestead light-tackle guide Matt Lofton planned accordingly: Forget Flamingo -- try fishing south Biscayne Bay.

"On the west side of the bay, I knew the water would be low and would be clean, too," Lofton said. "The west wind dirties the water in certain spots — a west, southwest or south wind is miserable in Flamingo."

So, Lofton, his friend Gil Muratori and I headed out of Homestead Bayfront Park in Lofton's 18-foot Hells Bay skiff, practically sailing in front of the breeze.

In South Florida, a westerly wind usually announces the approach of a cold front, low-pressure system or -- in the worst case -- a hurricane. But Lofton said it also can herald superior inshore fishing.

"From what I've seen, the fish feed better when the (barometric) pressure is dropping," Lofton said.

Poling along the west shoreline south of the Florida Power & Light plant, it wasn't long before Lofton spotted a school of small tarpon, rolling happily in the trough beside the mangroves. He baited our 10-pound spinning outfits with live shrimp and approached quietly. Muratori and I had to cast into the wind, so our first couple of throws were errant as we got used to the blustery breeze in our faces.

Another problem was over-eager gray snappers that dashed out of the prop roots to devour the shrimp before the tarpon could see the baits. Fortunately, our quarry failed to spook off, and they gave us plenty of chances.

Eventually, I managed to dodge the snappers and get my bait close to one of the happy rollers. Lofton said the shrimp popped away from the tarpon a couple of times, but the fish finally succeeded in gulping it.

I failed to see any of this, but I sure felt it when the drag started zinging.

"Hit him! Now, bow (your rod tip)!" Lofton directed as the tarpon charged away and then made the first of several aerobatic leaps.

The nice thing about small tarpon -- this one probably went about 15-20 pounds -- is that they jump a lot more frequently than their behemoth elders, which -- let's face it -- is way fun. And you can beat them a lot faster using light tackle.

After a short fight, I brought the fish to boatside, where Lofton unhooked it and put it back in the water. It dashed back to its playmates in the mangroves.

For whatever reason, maybe the howling wind whistling in their otoliths, the school of tarpon failed to notice us, and it continued to mill around the area. Muratori readied himself as Lofton poled in. But when Muratori cast his bait into a small cove where we had last seen the tarpon roll, he hooked a snook of about seven pounds. It tried to entangle him in mangrove roots, but he steered it away just in time.

"He was hungry and happy and looking for a meal," Lofton said as he released the snook. "Those snapper coming out and eating our shrimp probably got him out of the bushes investigating."

By early afternoon, the west wind was gusting more than 30 miles per hour. But Lofton had a permit spot he wanted to try.

Poling along the flat in off-and-on visibility, we got ambushed by probably 15 permit -- some of them rather large. Most of them got so close to the boat that, by the time Muratori and I got a cast off, they saw us and bolted.

Eventually, I threw my crab directly in front of one fish that was being trailed by three others. We watched as the four permit gathered around the hapless crab. I couldn't tell what they were doing, and I didn't feel anything. Lofton told me to reel in my bait, and, when I did, I felt it go pop! and then slack. Alas, I brought in a bare hook.

Apparently, one permit -- unbeknown to me — had eaten the crab while the other three harassed their rival like vultures, hoping it would get nervous and throw up or something.

But the clever lead fish beat us all: It managed to crush the crab, eat it and spit out the hook before any of us, fish or humans, knew what was happening.

Score one more in a long line of victories for the bulldog of the flats.

We hung out a little while longer but didn't spot any more fish.

It occurred to me that we had never passed another boat for the entire day. Look what a fine day of fishing some anglers had missed!

"Where a lot of guys wouldn't go out, Matt will give it a shot," Muratori said.
 
Added Lofton, grinning: "Must be present to win."