Photo by Ron Sinfelt.

It was early morning as I walked onto the dock overlooking Barnegat Bay to check my crab traps. The traps were loaded with big blue claws destined for crab cakes that evening.

The lagoon was also loaded with bait. A couple of schools of tightly knit 4-inch-long mullet circled as they reached the lagoon’s end. Within a few days, these fish would be leaving for the ocean.

That afternoon, as I walked to the beach, there wasn’t a car in sight. The beaches were deserted as far north and south as I could see. Usually, adults sunbathing and children building sandcastles surrounded the lifeguard stands, heretofore with a pair of lifeguards.

Off to the side, the surfboarders were delighted with the seas created by an onshore wind. Today the lifeguard stands were upside down, placed high on the dune line, to repose there until spring. It was Labor Day plus one.

Stepping into the surf was a pleasure, with the foaming white water sliding up my bare legs. Indeed, the surf temperature had been a delightful 72 degrees -- and would remain the same until a major weather front caused a change. I cast the Tsunami swim shad and Chris’s Fly by Night Teaser seaward, then began the cast-and-retrieve trek that would take me a mile to the north, followed by a return along the same route.

During this delightful ramble, I saw numerous schools of bay anchovies working tight to the beach, their schools lifting and fluttering as each wave crested and headed towards the shore. They were nervous, and rightly so, since hungry stripers and blues were working the same stretch of sand. The anchovies -- popularly called rainfish or glass minnows -- erupted into the air by the thousands, with husky bluefish vaulting into the air like missiles heading skyward.

Bluefish had already destroyed a pair of Tsunami swim shad I was casting. Their sharp teeth had severed the soft-plastic baits. This prompted my changing to a Gibbs Danny metal-lip surface swimming plug. And by the time I returned to my starting point, the plug was nearly bare wood, thanks to the blues’ razor-sharp teeth.

The Fly By Night teaser was equally decimated. But your correspondent was literally weary from having the most enjoyable afternoon of the season, landing and releasing four jumbo blues and a schoolie striper. It was a delightful way to celebrate the passing of Labor Day, and the beginning of an exciting autumn along the Jersey Shore.

Fishermen await the magic of September with bated breath, for New Jersey’s bays, rivers and tributaries are loaded with mullet, spearing, peanut bunker, herring, shad and anchovies. As the days grow shorter and temperatures begin to drop, these forage species begin to vacate their summer quarters -- where most were hatched -- and head seaward. Let me share with you where surf- and boat anglers alike will enjoy superb fishing during this magical fall run.

RARITAN & SANDY HOOK BAYS
The broad expanse of Raritan and Sandy Hook bays are a nursery ground for forage as well as a summertime residence for both striped bass and bluefish. After Labor Day, these game fish go into a feeding frenzy as autumn arrives.

And baitfish are constantly on the move in these waterways, presenting a challenge to boaters who search for them. And fishing the bay is a lure-caster’s light-tackle delight. The numerous schools of forage are usually quite visible on the surface, especially when flocks of gulls and terns descend on them to feed.

Most often, I’ll employ a one-hand spinning outfit or a popping outfit with a levelwind-casting reel. This lets me easily handle 1/2- to 1 1/2- ounce plugs, leadhead jigs and swim shads.

My favorite bay fishing might well be called “chasing the birds.” I’ll break out the binoculars and scan the waterway to look for concentrations of gulls and terns. These birds are the best indicator that blues and/or stripers are present.