They’re there and then they’re not. Tailing, cruising, happily hoovering up every fly you put in their path—then looking at you like you’re crazy to expect them to eat that silly concoction of feathers and fur. We love bonefish because, if the flats are a world where bringing you’re A-game is a requirement for entry, they will occasionally settle for your B-game, (and, let’s be honest, sometimes your C-game), and it’s hard not to feel a special kind of affection for a fish like that. A happy bonefish is like a great teacher: they see mistakes as opportunities, as if to say, “You know, that was actually a pretty poor cast. Why don’t you try again? Practice makes perfect after all!” Thank you, Mr. Bonefish. I’ll do my best not to let you down with this next one.