"I know the weather report said fifteen to twenty knots and seas five to eight feet, but that was for Okracoke. We're fishing way north of there out of Hatteras; it will probably be fishable." Ever heard any famous last words like that before? I have, and many times they came from my own mouth. I guess its something about the urge to fish that makes me think that some how, some way, everything will be fine once we get there. Needless to say I have made many a long drive only to either find out that the weatherman was right, or to embark on a miserable fishing trip. 
Let's consider something here. When the wind blows hard, it usually means a high pressure area is either on the way or here already. I learned a long time ago that blue bird skies behind a cold front generally means the fish have acquired a sudden case of lockjaw! Even those windless days when the high is sitting right on top of you fail to produce fish. 
Why is that, you may ask? I asked a fisheries biologist that question one time and got the following answer: 
"Fish have a lateral line down each side of their body. It's actually an organ composed of millions of sensing cells that other animals don't have. The fish can sense movement, vibration, change in current direction, and we believe changes in barometric pressure. In some fish it is the major sensing organ." 
So, when the pressure rises, the fish quit feeding for some reason. I have logs that prove (subject to my fishing ability!) that we catch far fewer fish on a waxing high pressure situation than any other set of weather conditions, short of a hurricane. But I really believe that the reason they quit feeding is because they are full. 
Here's why. We were in Florida Bay on a hot June afternoon, drifting the flats south of Carl Ross Key in about five feet of water, catching a few trout and an occasional snapper. The wind was so still, that a good drift was almost impossible. 
As is the case on a lot of hot afternoons in Florida Bay, a big anvil head thunderstorm built to the west and began moving east - directly at us. We continued to fish, convinced we could outrun the storm, or worst case, anchor way up on the flat and ride it out. 
But, then the dark clouds began rumbling. Flashes of lightening were going straight down. This was none of that cloud to cloud stuff, this was the real deal. A waterspout (a fancy name for a tornado over water) spiraled down off the left leading edge of the cloud bank, but fizzled and went back up. 
You need to realize that a thunder storm is a micro-low pressure area of its own, and the pressure drops noticeably as it approaches. That's why the wind picks up as it approaches. 
So, the storm approached, the wind picked up, and the cool chilled air began blowing our way. Oh, one more thing - the fish turned on like there was no tomorrow! The explanation I received was that the fish sense the drop in pressure, which tells them that the water is about to be stirred and muddied, they will have a hard time finding prey, and they need to feed now!. 
Seems logical to me. It also explains the apparent lack of appetite the fish have behind the low pressure. I think Russ Chastain, our About.com Hunting Guide will tell you the same thing about game and a waxing high pressure. 
The end to this story is a little comical, and very dangerous, but still true. As we caught one fish after another, our partner boat came idling over to us and asked if our rods were crackling. They said, "Watch this'" and stuck their rods high in the air. I could hear the crackling static electricity from fifty yards away! 
After a lot of scrambling and yelling we got them to drop their rods, and then we both headed for the ramp. I guess we're lucky the other end of that crackle didn't show up. But, what the heck - we fish in any weather!  From Ron Brooks.
