Blame Paul Prudhomme, the beloved Cajun chef whose 1980s popularization of “blackened redfish” started this mess. In North Carolina, Sciaenops ocellatus was variously called “red drum,” “channel bass,” and, occasionally, “spottail” or “spottail bass,” but it was hardly ever called “redfish.” That was pre-Prudhomme. Now the moniker “redfish” has nearly replaced the venerable “red drum.” But the fish haven’t noticed. The official state saltwater fish of North Carolina — “channel bass,” to be precise — still skulks in the heavy surf of nearshore breakers, still feeds in the fertile currents pouring out of the salt marsh, still quickens the hearts of anglers who hear the reel zinging with a fish so strong you can’t stop it at first, so you hang on to the rod, listening to the line ripping from the reel, whining in the wind, the unofficial theme song of the saltwater autumn.
Feature image, above: Channel bass are a favorite catch of North Carolina sport fishermen like Dave Lusk.
Why does this Haywood County town have some of the cleanest water in the state? It’s the result of the community’s efforts to keep the forests in its watershed pristine.
The spectacular views in North Carolina’s High Country aren’t just inspiration for writers, painters, and sculptors. Those landscapes — the rugged gray face of Grandfather Mountain, the vibrant fall leaves, the deep green meadows — are brushstrokes on Earth’s own canvas.
The sprawling vineyards and wide-open skies that stretch for miles across seven North Carolina counties offer relaxing getaways — not to mention some of the state’s finest wines — for Sunday drivers aching to escape the rush of city life.
Nothing lasts forever — and that’s what makes many of our cherished moments so special.
