ChaseChrome
Banned
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2011
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- 2,448
Pearls Before Swine
I
It's a majestic river--idyllic, timeless, the kind you imagine in your dreams--broad and sweeping in places, roiling with hydraulic upsurges, deep eddies and enormous tail-out sections, and acres of riffles flanked by deep cut channels and glides. It's the kind of river that when in spate, during heavy rains and early season melt, can become a Leviathan (resembling naught its more sanguine and inviting state)--and in areas, the river's anger, Sisyphus-like, surges against large boulders to create six foot standing waves. But this is the kind of river that can produce all year long if you know how to fish this big water and are a good custodian of its inhabitants.
On one particular October outing conditions were prime, frankly sublime. Like most early mornings for steelheaders we try to beat the penetrating chill by climbing quickly into waders, boots, fleece and jackets--set up your rod & reel, rig up, and one last sip of coffee. I tried to shake off the chill while walking down to a pool I knew would be holding fish. Though I've painted a somewhat ideal tableaux, this river can also become subject to a frenzied frothing of water by a gauntlet of "anglers." Such were the conditions this day. I spent the first part of the morning sitting half way up a bank watching the predictable tumult punctuated by flashes of anger and cursing. The well-tested recipe to ensure such mayhem is to line a pool with bottom draggers (of the chuck & duck variety), hardware fishermen, float guys, and fly guys. I'm not judging their chosen methods only providing an account of what happens when some don't allow for a more courteous or generous sharing of a run or pool--not withstanding that particular methods are simply at odds with being able to mine a stretch of water simultaneously.
As morning warmed and the ire cooled crowds dissipated offering up the opportunity to fish stretches of water unmolested. At this time of the year fishing such a watershed is not for the faint of heart nor for a medium weight setup that is the standard kit for chasing steelhead. Be prepared for sore arms and lower back, and big fish that, if not tackle busting, certainly will push all your equipment and expertise to the limit. I have been spooled more than once here, felt the screaming dacron backing slice deeply into my finger, and on another occasion heard the loud retort of a gunshot that was my impotent eight pound leader parting--slam-dunked--courtesy of an airborne, football-shaped silver Coho.
The ominous steel-blue cloud cover of early morning is slowly pushed North by a favourable South breeze--it looks like a sinister knife slash severing darkness from the warm, raking light. Anglers downstream bathed in an amber light are set off as polychrome sculptures against the slate backdrop of weathered skies--it's the kind of light photographers call "the magic hour," normally a descriptor of the malleable honeyed light of late afternoon. An angler downstream calls out, "incoming!" Indeed, on this river you actually see pods of fish porpoising through heavy rapids making their way from pool to pool on their way to natal waters. Often the imprinting of natal waters and urge to spawn is so great you see these large fish plunge into pool and without pause glide out the top. There are occasions when these fish hit-and-run (like a locomotive); but just try to slow them down to cite them for leaving the scene of the crime.
Bathed in mellow light it begins to hail and rain simultaneously--a veritable smorgasbord for the senses! (In the old country we say "It's carnival in Hell.") I had tied on a #8 copper bead, pale-pink Estaz fly and made a short flip cast to the top of the pool, got hung up and with a slight flick of the rod tip dislodged the snag. While taking up the slack line my float and fly had already drifted to the end of the pool. It must have been then that a pod of fresh Kings slipped over the lower lip into the pool, because at the very moment I had lifted my rod tip to set another drift it felt as though my rod was slammed with a 2 x 4. There was an immediate frenzied explosion on the surface of the water, the rod throbbing uncontrollably, accompanied by desperate head-shakes--I have never before experienced what can only be called rage, by a fish who took his fight to me on the surface in such a tangle and froth that I felt dazed. The rod had almost been pulled from my hand, so violent was the take of my fly and so ferocious the initial struggle that I wasn't at all prepared for the blistering down stream run. Before I had the chance to gather myself the fish was deep into my backing--I had visions of this fish rocketing back to the lake trailing 300 meters of mono and backing. The line continues to melt from the reel as the fish slices diagonally downstream almost entangling a group of anglers; one of whom, having quickly gained an appreciation for the drama unfolding, reaches behind him, picks my line out of the water and deposits it in front of him. Several short, powerful rushes and the fish holds to gather itself--the pause accords me just enough time to wrap a double loop of dacron around my hand, point my rod directly at the fish, parallel with the water, hold fast, feel the line stretch and part. The line hangs limp, I stand in wonder and awe at the brute power of these fish and am glad he is to fight again, for another lucky angler, immured in the sublime of fishing salmonids in fast-flowing water on days such as these. The day was to see more action, some fish landed, sore arms, bruises, and a deepening appreciation for the majesty of these fish and their environs.
II
Whence the pearls and whence the swine then?
It's time--weary, I leave the river. There's an informal stairway built into the face of the steep ravine. As I make my way up, the entire length of the traverse is littered with orange pearls, beautifully translucent, sumptuous orange orbs--salmon eggs. Squandered generations of Olympian fish I think to myself. I crest the ravine and come upon a butchery stall, a place where anglers have their kill filleted and bagged. This goes on all season--hundreds of fish every day. Of course I have created a convenient blind-spot while fishing--I often have to quell the disdain I feel for those whom it isn't enough to cull fish from a finite resource, but shamefully drag their fish from a rope over and through whatever terrain they are walking. (Perhaps, rather than devoting themselves to all things NASCAR, even a cursory read of Coles Notes on the Iliad, and the moral consequence for the "hero" who effectuates an indignity on the dead body of Hector by dragging him behind his chariot around the walls of Troy, might prove instructive.) There is something of a Lockean proviso operative here--that most Americans, some Canadians, people such as the Irvings and robber barons alike, claim an entitlement to what (through "effort" and "labour") they have taken from nature. It is quite like casting pearls before swine.
I have never acquired anything other than a conservation license and don't deny anyone their right to bring home their catch, though I would rather they didn't. It bears restating here that the fishery is a FINITE resource, and I would hope that this might necessitate a more profound meditation on what that really means. What it means for our children and their children--as the Crosby Stills song says "teach your children well…and feed them on your dreams."
The genesis of this brief report was, in part, the result of an antagonistic discussion on another forum (the subject of the remainder of this post) as well as some correspondence with the David Suzuki Foundation on the same topic (attached). I have fished the fly and float setup for over 30 years (in fact my first float reel was an old Pfleuger which I retrofitted as a centrepin) and have opted (whenever possible) for fishing imitations. There are times however when water clarity has prescribed using roe or roe alternatives--the pheromones providing the sophisticated olfactory organs of trout an inducement to take. Sometimes the hydraulic upsurges and tensions are such that one has to dispense with the delicate and stealth presentations and settle on a less savvy technique known as over-shotting to get one's bait down to the strike zone. The argument here is one of outsmarting nature (ironically, to be more "natural" than nature) and to delve deeply into your understanding of the art of angling.
Aside from the taking of fish, the taking of spawn is simply offensive and insupportable. It is all the more reprehensible when the angler has a choice in the matter and can research, with the click of a button, an immense archive. Steelhead will lay approximately 3,000-5,000 eggs, of that %10 may survive to the smolt stage and (under ideal conditions) we can expect up to ten adults to survive (not all spawners however). It is worth noting that steelhead are also iteroparous--that is to say they spawn more than once over their life-cycle. So even if one arrogates their action (the taking of fish for consumption) is ethical and sanctioned by Ministry guidelines, why must it be a hen, the progenitor of successive generations? It is through this particular fish (that has beaten the seemingly insurmountable odds to survive and then to spawn) that the genes of such survivability are expressed. It is extraordinary that through mere random selection this exquisite and healthy fish is here, in this pool, now--driven to continue the life cycle and pass on the genetic marker of successive healthy, multiple generations.
Having said that it is my contention, that fishing fora such as this and others have a custodial responsibility if not an interest in mentoring best practices and propagating greater appreciation of our resources. Not long ago a thread was posted at another discussion board by an "administrator" who took particular delight (and lauded by groupies of that forum) in having culled a hen and gutting her for her eggs. What is contemptible about this act is that he had landed several smaller bucks that morning, any of which would have sufficed for his smoker. As he said, "lucky for me, I had just run out of roe…I chunked her up for the smoker." I was left astonished--all I can do is leave you with the injunction to intercede when possible, and to consider the intrinsic value of leaving these fish unmolested. Let us leave a lasting legacy, one that can allow our children to realize THEIR dreams of chrome….
Hello Cornelius:
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My name is John Werring. I am a biologist and aquatic habitat specialist with the David Suzuki Foundation. I am also an avid angler.
First off may I wish you a happy New Year.
I am responding to your November 19th query concerning federal and/or provincial policies regarding the sustainability of salmonids--in particular, policies regarding the gutting of fish for the purpose of obtaining eggs for "sport" fishing.
I am sorry it has taken so long to get back to you but the Holiday season kind of got in the way.
I am assuming you are referring to the act where some fishers are catching fish, slicing their gut open and removing the roe (to be used for bait) and then releasing the rest of the fish still alive, dying or dead back into the water instead of keeping it for personal consumption.
I have heard of people undertaking this practice but I have not personally witnessed it.
Unfortunately there are no “policies†(that I know of) in place to deal with this kind of activity, as reprehensible as it may be.
That being said, the Pacific  Fishery Regulations promulgated under the federal Fisheries Act do contain a section (section 7.0) that reads:
“Subject to these Regulations, no person shall molest or injure fish.â€
This prohibition is carried over into the British Columbia Sport Fishing Regulations as well. The fine for molesting fish is $250.00, The fine for injuring fish is $250.00.
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I would think the practice of butchering a fish for its roe in the manner described would fall under either category.
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The problem is that in order to take action against an individual under the law one for doing this one would have to hope that the offence is witnessed by a fishery officer or some other law enforcement official (provincial conservation officer, RCMP) – and the chances of that happening are slim to none these days - or one witnessing such an event/activity would have to obtain evidence that an offense has been committed (photographic, video, written notes  - e.g. description of person , vehicle, vehicle license number, time of day, location, etc… ) and submit this evidence to a Fishery Officer for it to be investigated and prosecuted.
Without such evidence, enforcement officials would be loathe to investigate these incidents and even if they were provided with such evidence I feel that that the authorities would be reluctant to act on this evidence as they are under-manned and short on budget and have “other prioritiesâ€.
BTW … the relevant department to approach on this would be the federal department of Fisheries and Oceans and/or the provincial conservation officer service and unfortunately, unless you can find their offices they can often only be reached through an observe, record, report telephone line (this information can be found in the saltwater and freshwater fishing synopses) that is minimally staffed and rarely followed up on (I know ths from personal experience).
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Perhaps if enough reports come from a certain area that suggests that the problem in that area is pervasive and ongoing, there might be some will to investigate but  I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.
The only other way really to deal with this situation would be through education. By this I mean taking measures into one’s own hands and perhaps talking to the individual that is doing this and pointing out to them that it is illegal and immoral to do this and urge them to stop. The problem with that as you well may know  is, one can potentially place oneself in harm’s way if the person one is confronting acts in an unfriendly or threatening manner.
I wish I could provide you with something more positive or helpful in this regard but unless the government comes up with the funds to ensure that fishing waters throughout the province are patrolled by fisheries officers on a regular basis, things like this are bound to continue occurring and the chances of the perpetrator(s) being caught are slim to none.
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If you have any further questions or concerns about this, please feel free to contact me directly. My contact information is below.
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Regards,
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John Werring
Aquatic Habitat Specialist
Marine and Freshwater Conservation Program
The thing is, I like to be prepared, and ready for which ever bite is happenng the day I'm on the river. Most of my days on the river, I will go through 5 bags of roe, the rest being artificials. Same goes for my fishng partners, but darn, that roe is something, its hard to fish without it sometimes. 
