On the Line

Don't Feed your Fish to Fish

by Mike Conner, Editor-in-Chief

Predation in oceans, rivers, lakes and streams is a fact of life, or death, as the case may be. It is the rare angler who has not witnessed large apex predators, such as sharks and porpoises, or alligators in fresh waters, home in on the scene where he or she is catching fish. Like it or not, an appreciable number of released fish, and even fish locked in battle with an angler, fall prey to something bigger and badder higher on the food chain.

So, what to do when this happens? Keep hooking fish and hope for the best? Or, elect to stop fishing when and where the chances of your catch being "lunched" (particularly those that you plan to release, or must release due to regulations) are high?

Yesterday, I was fishing the surf near my hometown in Stuart, Florida. The surf is chock-a-block with juvie bay anchovies right now. There is a brown ribbon against the sand for miles, hugging the beach to escape the jacks, Spanish macks, blue runners, snook, and small and large tarpon feasting on the numbers. And, there are lots of big sharks, blacktips and menacing bull sharks in particular.

At one point, I cast a streamer fly to a rolling 30- pound tarpon, only to have it grabbed by a chunky ladyfish--naturally, right?  As the ladyfish struggled, the tarpon turned and attempted to eat the lady. The ladyfish jumped off, the tarpon slowed, but then panicked and shot out of there.

 "What spooked that 'poon?" I wondered aloud, until an 8-foot bull shark surged ahead right on that tarpon's tail. I doubt the shark caught the tarpon, but had I hooked the tarpon, the shark had an easy meal.

In the next ten minutes, I spotted at least a half-dozen more, cruising the same lane outside the minnows where the tarpon were. It was obvious what they were after. I stashed my fly rod at that point. Though I came to primarily jump tarpon on fly, I have no desire to feed tarpon to the sharks, as way too many anglers do, though not purposely in places such as Florida's Boca Grande Pass.

I wish every angler would make this decision whenever faced with a similar situation.

    

On the Line

Catch-and-Release-to-Survive

by Mike Conner, Editor-in-Chief

During an address to the sportfishing media during the week of the ICAST sportfishing trade show in Orlando earlier this month, American Sportfishing Association (ASA) President and CEO Mike Nussman announced the launch of a commendable public awareness program, FishSmart.

"In fresh water we've done a great job in reducing fish mortality with fish that anglers catch," said Nussman. "More than 80 percent of anglers who caught fish that they could have kept, reported releasing some of them. In saltwater alone, the number of released fish exceeds 200 million annually, and with increasing regulations such as size limits, bag limits and seasons this number is sure to grow."

"However," as Nussman noted, "One of the keys to successful catch and release efforts is having the right kind of tackle that improves the chance that released fish will live. The overall FishSmart program is designed to address this and other fisheries conservation issues, such as angler education, head on."

It is a message that anglers have heard before, if not from an organization that represents our sport. This outdoor writer, and many others, have hammered this message home time and time again, with the realization that it does fall on deaf ears all too often. Particularly the ears of anglers who chase world records or look for headlines, or claim that the lighter the tackle, the more a fish can "show its stuff."

Sure, a long slugfest with a tough gamefish is thrilling, but in the long run, not ideal for that fish if it is to be released. What I hear all the time is that using tackle that shortens the battle measurably "takes the challenge" out of cathcing a fish. I will cite examples such as the guy I know who refuses to use a fly rod heavier than a 6-weight and light tippet for big Florida bonefish. Or the sports I have come across who are dead-set on catching big tarpon on spin tackle more suited for redfish. I used to fish with a fellow who cast a 4-weight fly rod for tailing redfish in the heat of summer and then babied them on his light tippet forever. It took 10 minutes to revive them to swim away, barely, and I am convinced they were a shark's lunch soon thereafter. I do not fish with him anymore. And I hope he doesn't do that anymore.

It all boils down to what is essentially "stunt" fishing and what is responsible catch-and-release fishing. If you plan to put your catch on ice for dinner, by all means go as light as you dare. Although most anglers beef up on tackle considerably when out for meat, don't they? There is even some evidence that overly long, drawn-out fights build up lactic acid levels high enough to affect the quality and flavor of fish flesh, so keep that in mind.

If you plan to release your catch, tackle up accordingly to catch them as quickly as possible. Otherwise it's just catch-and-release-to-die.

This hefty dock snook, caught by angler Jon Macca, was landed on a 9-weight fly rod in under two minutes, held out of water for less than 10 seconds for a quick photo, and swam away in great shape.   

On the Line

Pick the Right Stick  

by Mike Conner, Editor-in-Chief

A trip to Flamingo on Florida Bay this past Sunday further solidified my fishing philosophy: Pick the Right Stick. Though my plan was to fly fish for tailing redfish, andI fact did hook and land the first redfish I spotted and cast to with my 8-weight rod, things changed in a heartbeat.

The wind died, and the flat looked like an ice skating rink--not a ripple. The sun was now high enough to light up our world, which makes fish-spotting easier, but in a tradeoff, fish see you better, too. The reds were all singles, and as my host Richard Kernish said: "They aren't tailing as much as yesterday. Yesterday they were "flopping over" standing on their heads. And we had some wind and a light chop.

Translation? Easier fish to approach and feed. "Dumber" fish.

We would pole silently to within 70 feet of a fish, and it would feel us and would move off irritably, pushing a wake as it did. After a dozen refusals on long, long casts, and showing them the fly pretty darn well most times, we knew what time it was: Spinning rod time!

I jumped on the poling platform and Richard tied on a nice, fat plastic jerbait, Texas-rigged. A single red tailed up 120 feet away. Richard launched a long cast just beyond the fish, which had no clue. Richard twitched the bait. The redfish pounded it. Richard's rod bent double. And he looked back at me with that look that said, problem solved. And we repeated the scene a half dozen times in the next 15 minutes until the water rose further and the fish dissappeared.

"We would have caught 20 fish if we made the switch earlier," Richard commented later. No doubt, we would have. But that's okay, we have scored big numbers many times on fly. But on this day, casting from even a full fly line's distance just did not cut it.

Do I prefer fly casting? Sure. But I also like to catch redfish after going to bed at midnight, rising at 4 a.m. and driving 170 miles to fish for maybe 6 hours. So, I will do what it takes without reservation. I pick the right stick. Every single time.