Checking out another stretch of beach at low tide brings home why I'm starting to get so interested in what's a very new kind of fishing for me. It looks featureless when you stand on the flood bank, looking across the estuary on a low tide.
But down on the foreshore, there are distinct zones stretching from the mud flats pock-marked with worm casts, to the groynes where life teems in the little pools left behind by the retreating tide. Shrimp and tiny shore crabs hide in the shade of the rotting pilings.
It seems like every bit of water left behind has something that swims, wriggles or walks. No wonder this is such an important feeding ground for all the wading birds - most of which I struggle to identify as they strut along the water's edge.
I wonder what I need to do along the edges of the estuary within casting range, to turn my newly-discovered fascination with what lies on my doorstep into a few fish.
Blast lures out as far as I can, or work closer in, imitating different creatures that make up this rich larder's diverse delicacies. As I scrape the mud off my shoes and head for work, I can't wait to give it another go.