In the early 1990s I got my first look. The wind honked out of the north on the first chilly day in September. It just felt fishy. Running toward the birds, I thought at first the boils were stripers. But when the fish came up, I knew this was something different: Streamlined muscular fish with green backs slashed through baitballs at an ungodly speed. Composure lost, heart pounding, adrenaline level through the roof, I made several casts, which went unnoticed.