Soon after moving to Houston, I was walking a man-made bayou with my fly-rod. I was keeping a watchful eye on the water that flowed through the ditch. I wasn’t sure what fish species I could expect to see. I caught sight of a fish slowly swimming to the surface of the water. It opened its mouth like it was taking something from the top-water and then slowly disappeared into the deep murky depths. I had just seen my first spotted gar.