02-04-2004, 10:29 PM
Working our boat slowly, we steered around slabs of three-inch thick ice floating just below the Bellevue lock and dam. As snow hit the Mississippi River, the wind rolled it into white clouds of slush bobbing in the dark water. Not a picture perfect day for fishing. But the paddlefish wouldn't wait.
Well, not typical fishing. You snag paddlefish. They sift plankton from the water through their rakes. No bright lure or tasty bait for them. For another thing, we weren't here for recreation. Each fish caught would be returned to the water with a research tag embedded in its rostrum, or flat, spoon-shaped snout. Fisheries biologists want to know more about this throwback to the dinosaur era.
"We will check their ages, their growth; the size structure in the pool here. We want to see what sort of spawn a particular year might have," explains Denny Weiss, fisheries technician for the Department of Natural Resources and its Bellevue research station. Each winter, fisheries workers spend days on the River-- here, Clinton and sometimes near Muscatine--snagging the leathery hides of these anything-but-ordinary looking creatures. Another Iowa crew snags on the Missouri River.
It's part the Mississippi Interstate Cooperation Resources Association (MICRA), a 23 state research program, coordinated by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. "If another state finds one of our tagged fish, they'll record that," says Weiss. "Paddlefish can travel great distances. We have caught several fish here that were tagged on the Wisconsin River, near Prairie du Sac. Over on the Missouri River, they have shown movement of 400 and 500 miles." Part of the focus is the impact of the lock and dam system on paddlefish migration. It regulates river flow-vital for flood protection-but also creates 'gates', restricting movement of paddlefish and other river species. Water quality and its effect on these ancient mariners is also studied.
On the depth finder, Weiss marked a school of spoonbills in an 80-foot hole, just below the rollers. With stiff poles, 20 pound line on our bait-casting reels and wicked looking treble hooks, he, fisheries technician Gene Jones and I got to work. There's not a lot of finesse involved; just bounce the half-pound weight off the bottom, then yank the line and hooks up through the water column. Not quite a needle in a haystack, but after a few dozen pulls, I realized why they let me to come along. Three backs are better than two.
It took a good half hour before the first snag. It felt like a log had just attached itself to my line. While I reeled it up, Jones reached into the icy water to haul it on board. Ironically, I had snagged it in the corner of its mouth. "You must know how to thread that plankton on the hook better than us," Weiss joked. He and Jones quickly weighed it (about nine pounds), measured the length between the fork of the tail and the beady little eye and assessed its overall health.
Waving an airport security type wand over the bill, we listened for the telltale beep of an embedded metal tag. None on this one, so Weiss implanted one before releasing it. The ID number on the wire tag is recorded. If the fish is recaptured, that number tells researchers its movement, growth rate and other secrets of the deep.
With the hot spot located, it only took a couple hours to haul up ten more for this afternoon snag-and-tag. A19 pounder (their largest this year was 40) stretching more than 50 inches from snout to tail made the boat a little crowded, but the rest scaled down from there. We even saw a little one-pounder. That was just fine with Weiss, too. "Fishermen might like to see the 30, 40, 50 pounders, but it's better to see a lot of the one and two pounders; the five to eight pounders. It shows good spawns; young fish coming on."
That mirrors what he has seen since coming to Bellevue in the early '80s. Commercial fishing for paddlefish is now closed and recreational fishing is restricted to two fish per day, during a specific season. "I would see a lot of fish then in the 15 to 40 pound range," says Weiss. "Anglers were snagging them by the boatload. But we never saw any three, four or five pounders." He wonders if heavy fishing might have affected spawning success.
Over the ten years of the MICRA project, though, they have seen good reproduction, though little is still known about the paddlefish spawn. That might be one thing upon which MICRA sheds some light, as biologists try to learn more about this ancient fish and how the current environment is affecting it.
But it's still the ugliest thing you're going to see coming out of the water...anywhere.
[signature]
Well, not typical fishing. You snag paddlefish. They sift plankton from the water through their rakes. No bright lure or tasty bait for them. For another thing, we weren't here for recreation. Each fish caught would be returned to the water with a research tag embedded in its rostrum, or flat, spoon-shaped snout. Fisheries biologists want to know more about this throwback to the dinosaur era.
"We will check their ages, their growth; the size structure in the pool here. We want to see what sort of spawn a particular year might have," explains Denny Weiss, fisheries technician for the Department of Natural Resources and its Bellevue research station. Each winter, fisheries workers spend days on the River-- here, Clinton and sometimes near Muscatine--snagging the leathery hides of these anything-but-ordinary looking creatures. Another Iowa crew snags on the Missouri River.
It's part the Mississippi Interstate Cooperation Resources Association (MICRA), a 23 state research program, coordinated by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. "If another state finds one of our tagged fish, they'll record that," says Weiss. "Paddlefish can travel great distances. We have caught several fish here that were tagged on the Wisconsin River, near Prairie du Sac. Over on the Missouri River, they have shown movement of 400 and 500 miles." Part of the focus is the impact of the lock and dam system on paddlefish migration. It regulates river flow-vital for flood protection-but also creates 'gates', restricting movement of paddlefish and other river species. Water quality and its effect on these ancient mariners is also studied.
On the depth finder, Weiss marked a school of spoonbills in an 80-foot hole, just below the rollers. With stiff poles, 20 pound line on our bait-casting reels and wicked looking treble hooks, he, fisheries technician Gene Jones and I got to work. There's not a lot of finesse involved; just bounce the half-pound weight off the bottom, then yank the line and hooks up through the water column. Not quite a needle in a haystack, but after a few dozen pulls, I realized why they let me to come along. Three backs are better than two.
It took a good half hour before the first snag. It felt like a log had just attached itself to my line. While I reeled it up, Jones reached into the icy water to haul it on board. Ironically, I had snagged it in the corner of its mouth. "You must know how to thread that plankton on the hook better than us," Weiss joked. He and Jones quickly weighed it (about nine pounds), measured the length between the fork of the tail and the beady little eye and assessed its overall health.
Waving an airport security type wand over the bill, we listened for the telltale beep of an embedded metal tag. None on this one, so Weiss implanted one before releasing it. The ID number on the wire tag is recorded. If the fish is recaptured, that number tells researchers its movement, growth rate and other secrets of the deep.
With the hot spot located, it only took a couple hours to haul up ten more for this afternoon snag-and-tag. A19 pounder (their largest this year was 40) stretching more than 50 inches from snout to tail made the boat a little crowded, but the rest scaled down from there. We even saw a little one-pounder. That was just fine with Weiss, too. "Fishermen might like to see the 30, 40, 50 pounders, but it's better to see a lot of the one and two pounders; the five to eight pounders. It shows good spawns; young fish coming on."
That mirrors what he has seen since coming to Bellevue in the early '80s. Commercial fishing for paddlefish is now closed and recreational fishing is restricted to two fish per day, during a specific season. "I would see a lot of fish then in the 15 to 40 pound range," says Weiss. "Anglers were snagging them by the boatload. But we never saw any three, four or five pounders." He wonders if heavy fishing might have affected spawning success.
Over the ten years of the MICRA project, though, they have seen good reproduction, though little is still known about the paddlefish spawn. That might be one thing upon which MICRA sheds some light, as biologists try to learn more about this ancient fish and how the current environment is affecting it.
But it's still the ugliest thing you're going to see coming out of the water...anywhere.
[signature]