Sunday, April 20, 2008
Angling has little impact on fish survival
Mark Taylor
Mark Taylor's Outdoors column and notebook appears regularly in The Roanoke Times.
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SPRINGWOOD -- An hour and counting.
Why am I doing this?
Why am I standing on this one spot on the bank of the James River, casting over and over at the same target?
Because that target is a 3-pound smallmouth bass.
She's not budging and so I'm not budging. If she can make it another hour, which is when I must leave, she wins.
But I'm going to do my best to not let that happen.
It's that time of year.
As water temperatures climb, bass -- and other warmwater fish -- move into the shallows and fan out saucer-shaped nests for spawning. If the water is clear enough the fish can be pretty easy to spot.
But not always easy to catch.
Some think we shouldn't even try.
Even some serious bass fishermen frown on fishing for largemouths and smallmouths when they're on their spawning beds.
Let them do their thing in peace, you know?
If it were proven to impact spawning success in a system, it would be a no-brainer. But biologists assure us that, at least in this part of the country, fishing for spawners doesn't have a detrimental biological impact.
No matter what we fishermen do, enough eggs will hatch and fry will survive to keep the population going, with some peaks and valleys in years of extreme weather conditions, such as high or low water.
Of course, gnawing at me as I cast is the frustrating fact that conditions aren't exactly normal on the James River.
Last year the river and its Cowpasture tributary experienced a mysterious fish kill, similar to those that have plagued the Shenandoah system for several years. The problem, which typically runs from April into June, is back.
In fact, my first fish, a feisty 14-incher, sported several conspicuous mucous spots, likely the start of lesions.
I didn't fish the river during the outbreak last year, not wanting to further stress the fish.
Assurance, again, came from a biologist.
Scott Smith, who oversees the fishery on the upper James River said earlier this spring that he doesn't feel angling makes much of a difference on mortality.
Basically, he said, fish that are going to make it are going to make it. Fish that aren't, aren't.
Numbers from last year provide some added measure of comfort.
The spawn on the James was great, which was strange because, considering the low water, it shouldn't have been.
Extensive sampling last fall indicated that, while numbers of big fish were down slightly, the overall population had weathered the fish kill amazingly well.
So I decided not to miss another year on one of my favorite rivers.
I was walking the bank at a friend's place, casting a jig to decent fish that I spotted. I'd caught a couple when I spotted my current target.
Now, a 3-pound smallmouth is not a monster, and it's entirely possible I could have found an even bigger one had I kept looking.
But my window was short and the fish was in a good spot.
And, at least for me, a 3-pounder is a real good fish.
She wanted nothing to do with the first jig, swimming away each time the lure arrived at the bed. A tube lure earned a similar tepid response.
Next came a brown Arkie creature bait -- the meanest-looking, meatiest piece of plastic in my box.
I cast well beyond the bed and began reeling. And couldn't believe what I saw.
Something 3 feet long was following the lure.
For a second I thought "muskie." But the thing was too fat.
Carp?
No, not the right color.
Then I decided it was a 20-pound flathead catfish.
I stopped reeling, the lure fluttered the bottom and the predator turned away. Which was a good thing because that's when I realized it was an otter.
That's a battle I didn't want.
A few casts later the smallmouth finally ate.
She was 17 12 inches long, perfectly healthy and went back to her nest as soon as I put her back in the water.
I hope she fares as well in the battle she may be fighting over the next couple months.
