Snarls and Loose Ends

I'm a bit of a recluse, so stories take a while to percolate down to my level, but I have news on two fronts - the Hurricane Noel Rainbow Trout and the Medway Catch and Release license.

There was some chat after today's staff meeting. I overheard the youngbloods talking about catching Rainbow Trout in the Mersey, the LaHave, and Petite Riviere. The catches have been fish in the 18" to 23" range. A particularly unlucky angler, reportedly, broke his rod on the one that got away. My thought is that these fish are spawning now, or will be very soon. They are probably in the feeder brooks already.

The other news I read in the Queens County section of NovaNewsNow. I had heard a rumor there would be a catch and release season for Atlantic Salmon this year. It seems that the Medway River Association has been granted 32 licenses to fish for post-spawn Atlantic Salmon. Apparently, the 32 members are out in force on the Medway tagging "slinks", as we call them. In addition, there will be 15 wild slinks surgically implanted with hydroacoustic tags. These tags emit a unique, identifiable sound that is picked up by receivers in the river system and in the ocean. With this technology, each fish can be tracked on part of its ocean journey.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

Random Phrump

Photo: 'Boat at the Swirl' by Random Phrump

Medway Heyday / Mersey Misstep

One of the many large salmon that were caught on the Medway River was captured on film, and the photo was published in the Liverpool Advance in the mid-1970's. The angler, Oscar Anthony Sr., said that this fish, at 34 lbs., was the second largest he had caught. Twenty years previously, he had landed his 'fish of a lifetime'.

Dennis McKinnon gave me this photo, and added a few details to the story. He said that Oscar told him he would never have landed the fish except that a kid on a bicycle was passing by. When Oscar hollered for help, the boy dropped his bike and ran down to the river. Oscar was disappointed to see such a young lad - according to Dennis, he was about 10 and not much bigger around than a toothpick. Oscar didn't have much choice - he gave the boy his gaff and instructed him to stand at the riverbank and brace his feet well. "When I lead him ashore, you strike smartly with the gaff, and don't let go!" Together, they managed it, the boy and the angler. It put me in mind of something that happened when I was a boy...

It was five minutes to six on a foggy morning in June when I skidded my bike to a stop on the Mersey River bridge. A fisherman was standing near the concrete abutment on a treacherous-looking pile of boulders, getting ready to cast. I couldn't help noticing his gear - the first bait-casting reel I'd ever seen - as he effortlessly flipped a red-and-white surface lure halfway across the river.

I didn't stay long - a couple of casts - I had to pick up my newspapers at the pool hall, behind Wharton's Barber Shop, and deliver them to my customers in Liverpool. About an hour later, crossing the bridge on my way home, I wondered if the fisherman was still there. He was, and he was wrestling with the mightiest fish I had ever seen - a huge Striped Bass!

He looked up, then beckoned me to come. I sped to the end of the bridge, wheeled into Lane's Motel parking lot, dropped my bike, and sprinted for the river. When I got there, the man had the fish near shore. Holding out his car keys, he said,

"Kid, take these and open the trunk of my car - it's the one with New York plates.Get my landing net, and hurry!"

I had to clamber down over the rock pile to reach him, but before I did, he drew back his hand and put the keys in his pocket.

"On second thought, I think I can get him if you'll just hold the rod." He passed me the rod. "Just hold on tight - don't let go!" he said as he took the line in his hand and stepped towards the fish.

The tide was falling, and the boulders at the waters edge were slippery and covered in rockweed and periwinkles. The man reached for his trophy, lost his footing and jerked the bait out of the fish's lip. I watched in stunned silence as the great fish wriggled out of the man's grasp and returned to the deeps.

To this day, I can't help thinking that the outcome would have been different if he had let me get the net. But, what do I know about it? The man was from New York - he was surely thinking... what if the kid steals my camera? or even worse, my car? How could he explain to his wife, who was probably still asleep in the motel room, that he gave his keys to a complete stranger?

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

- Random Phrump

Dragons that Fly!

Here is a photo of a dragonfly (Green Darner) that has just been fitted with a tiny radio transmitter by Princeton University professor, Martin Wikelski (left). The scientist was tracking their migratory patterns in a 2005 study funded by National Geographic. Apparently they only fly during the daytime, in a generally southward direction, pausing sometimes for several days when conditions are to their liking. Two consecutive nights of decreasing temperatures will get them moving again.

One day on the Pinware River in Labrador, my brother, Steve, shot some video footage of a large dragonfly circling my head, picking off the blackflies that swarmed there. I joked about wishing it was tethered to my hat, trained to attack insect pests on command. Apparently, using Wikelski's technique, such a thing is possible. He uses Krazy Glue to attach the miniature radio transmitters - so, why not a length of monofilament?

I actually did have a dragonfly on a tether once. It happened like this. I was fishing alone in my canoe on a stretch of the Mersey River known locally as the Kedgie River. This is the section that flows from Kejimkujik National Park to Rossignol Lake. Trout were rising under overhanging trees near the riverbank and I made a beautiful cast with a small dry fly. It doesn't happen often, but this was a perfect presentation. As the line straightened out and the fly began to float down through the air towards the surface of the water, I anticipated a nice Brook Trout coming up to slurp it down.

Instead, something unexpected happened. The fly instantly took a different direction and came crashing down with a splash several feet short of the intended target. Annoyed and perplexed, I stripped in line to cast once more, when to my complete amazement, in slow motion, the fly and leader levitated off the water and up into the air. I kept stripping line and soon I had a clear view of what was going on - a large dragonfly had a death grip on my #14 Adams and was trying to make off with it. He circled the canoe, then dropped it and flew off. The truth - so help me, God!