Darrell Ticehurst/Fisheries Issues
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Remembering Why
Jun. 10 2009, 1:51 PM
Jun. 10 2009, 1:51 PM
Between the water wars, the unfathomable lack of support from our Department of Fish and Game, and a polluted MLPA gone far astray it is sometimes hard to keep going, to keep fighting for our fishery that we all love so much. I was thinking these morbid thoughts, depressed by the attacks on recreational fishing from so many quarters, when I left a few days ago for Alaska. Thank goodness I took that trip.
There, as I flew over snow capped peaks, eager white rushing rivers, mountain meadows so rich in colors and hues that they made the most jaundiced eye reach out to search for every detail, as I drank in the untouched splendor below and saw timber stands that stretched to the horizon with fir and spruce and cedar and alder all offering textures I could feel, and greens so vivid and diverse that they made my eye yearn to pull in and savor the beauty of the unfolding scenery, they gave me pause and made me remember why I love this world, our natural world, so much.
Fishing started nicely outside of Klawock with a good bite of small halibut when we spotted some very large birds working so we decided to investigate. As we neared the excitement there were hundreds of puffins working a bait ball, but I stared in disbelief as I saw that the large birds were bald eagles. Dozens and dozens of eagles, all swooping and making false dives into the swirling cauldron of bait, then finally diving quickly, flaring that huge wingspan and outstretching their talons to snare a single large herring, and with great long wing strokes, flying off to enjoy the sea’s bounty. More eagles than I ever imagined could be in a single place.
Ah, but did I mention the whales? Those giant leviathans were everywhere we looked, their spouts rising high in the clear air. Humpbacks, migrated from Hawaii to get fat on the bountiful Alaska forage with their long pectoral fins spanking the sea, the fins glowing with a bright green/bluish white when seen under the water, and then the graceful dives as their small hump with its diminutive dorsal fin slowly rises up then slips gently under the water. Such poetry in motion from these animals, such awesome size, I can’t help but watch them as they go about their business, fascinated by their grace. And something must have created that huge bait ball. These herring were herded into such a tight seething, writhing, frothingly tight ball that those in the middle were completely out of the water, flopping helplessly as the eagles swooped and the puffins dove, the birds taking advantage of a moment of easy forage, a break from the normally hard task of locating and catching their daily meal. Could it be that the whales were responsible for this?
We were fishing close in to the bait ball, trying to guess just how big it really was. Many tons, certainly, as we looked at the mass of fish that spread across the water in a rough circle maybe thirty feet in diameter, packed solidly with herring so that the clear water seemed opaque. Then suddenly there was a deeper commotion, only an impression, but something forced us to look. A fleeting sense of movement and the humpback’s jaws broke the water looking like the maw of something incomprehensibly huge, water streaming from the sides of its mouth, herring flying into the air and barely distinguishable from the spray of water that was jetting out in a huge circle reaching almost to our boat. Then as the whale reached further into the sky with a full quarter of its body out of the water, its massive jaws started closing, engulfing uncountable herring to be captured as the whale’s baleen filtered out what had to be many thousands of those large bait fish. What a sight!
My fishing partners and I just sat there for a few seconds, trying to grasp the enormity of what we had just seen. Numb, we looked at each other trying to find words, finally just shaking our heads as we tried to digest the wonderment of the moment.
Experiencing nature in all its grandeur like that is a great restorative. I came back from that trip reenergized, renewed and ready to continue to help fight for our right to fish, to enjoy the outdoors, and inspired to take a kid fishing for a day so that they too can learn to appreciate this wonderful planet we live on.
Fishing started nicely outside of Klawock with a good bite of small halibut when we spotted some very large birds working so we decided to investigate. As we neared the excitement there were hundreds of puffins working a bait ball, but I stared in disbelief as I saw that the large birds were bald eagles. Dozens and dozens of eagles, all swooping and making false dives into the swirling cauldron of bait, then finally diving quickly, flaring that huge wingspan and outstretching their talons to snare a single large herring, and with great long wing strokes, flying off to enjoy the sea’s bounty. More eagles than I ever imagined could be in a single place.
Ah, but did I mention the whales? Those giant leviathans were everywhere we looked, their spouts rising high in the clear air. Humpbacks, migrated from Hawaii to get fat on the bountiful Alaska forage with their long pectoral fins spanking the sea, the fins glowing with a bright green/bluish white when seen under the water, and then the graceful dives as their small hump with its diminutive dorsal fin slowly rises up then slips gently under the water. Such poetry in motion from these animals, such awesome size, I can’t help but watch them as they go about their business, fascinated by their grace. And something must have created that huge bait ball. These herring were herded into such a tight seething, writhing, frothingly tight ball that those in the middle were completely out of the water, flopping helplessly as the eagles swooped and the puffins dove, the birds taking advantage of a moment of easy forage, a break from the normally hard task of locating and catching their daily meal. Could it be that the whales were responsible for this?
We were fishing close in to the bait ball, trying to guess just how big it really was. Many tons, certainly, as we looked at the mass of fish that spread across the water in a rough circle maybe thirty feet in diameter, packed solidly with herring so that the clear water seemed opaque. Then suddenly there was a deeper commotion, only an impression, but something forced us to look. A fleeting sense of movement and the humpback’s jaws broke the water looking like the maw of something incomprehensibly huge, water streaming from the sides of its mouth, herring flying into the air and barely distinguishable from the spray of water that was jetting out in a huge circle reaching almost to our boat. Then as the whale reached further into the sky with a full quarter of its body out of the water, its massive jaws started closing, engulfing uncountable herring to be captured as the whale’s baleen filtered out what had to be many thousands of those large bait fish. What a sight!
My fishing partners and I just sat there for a few seconds, trying to grasp the enormity of what we had just seen. Numb, we looked at each other trying to find words, finally just shaking our heads as we tried to digest the wonderment of the moment.
Experiencing nature in all its grandeur like that is a great restorative. I came back from that trip reenergized, renewed and ready to continue to help fight for our right to fish, to enjoy the outdoors, and inspired to take a kid fishing for a day so that they too can learn to appreciate this wonderful planet we live on.
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