We are all so many great fishing memories which one sticks out in your mind like no other?
This memory has its hook firmly set
KEN ALLEN / ALLEN AFIELD September 13, 2009
Fishing memories can stick in our minds, even exact dates, and one such recollection from a central Maine river began on Sept. 12, 1997.
This reminiscence started on a sun-splashed morning when a thick-shouldered brown trout a tad over 20 inches inhaled my mosquito-sized 24 Caddis Emerger into its gaping maw. Many browns that size came from this river in the 1990s, so at first, the trout struck me as nothing more than a fun fight on a wispy, 4-weight fly rod before the careful release.
When the brown took the fly, though, fate had started working its magic, so the mini-brute proved more memorable than bigger fly-rod fish I've caught, including saltwater species with weights described by a three-digit number.
The incident offers insight into how Maine can improve its salmonid fisheries, but that month, it would take four coincidences and observations to enhance the impact.
1. The first of the four memory builders began with a maddening angling rule: When a solitary angler catches a good-sized fish, one person or more show up to witness the event and naturally spread the news, news that most successful anglers would rather keep quiet.
That morning with the 20-inch-plus brown, I had been alone until a very blond Florida woman with a small group of vacationers spotted me with the bent rod. They were visiting a fish-rearing station beside the river, and the rushing, tumbling current covered the noise of their approach behind me.
With a syrupy-sweet voice and southern drawl, she said, "Mista', I wouldn't have the patience to pl-a-ay a fish so l-o-o-n-g."
On "mista'," I jumped off the ground and came down two words later.
2. The next memory builder concerns salmonid behavior in rivers. Good-sized trout often lie in one spot and stay there weeks at a time, and this one had done just that by a large, round rock.
Jeff Reardon, a superb fly rodder from Damariscotta who works for Trout Unlimited, knew about the brown by this rock. He showed up that day and claimed that he and a friend had both caught and released the same brown that very month. Given the source, I believed him.
3. It gets even better, though. On Sept. 30, the last day of the season on the river, this brown once again took my fly, so the three of us had tangled with the fish four times that month. Others had surely caught it, too.
If one of us had killed the brown trout, then that would have been the end of that excitement. Clearly, Lee Wulff had it right when he claimed a trout was too valuable to catch but once.
4. Brown trout have spot clusters that an astute observer can recognize in the same way fingerprints identify humans. Spot clusters prove less reliable than fingerprints but are still accurate, and this memorable brown had a unique spot pattern on its right gill plate.
Scars from near misses with predators also help, and many times in life, scars with spot clusters have shown me that I have caught and released the same fish – sometimes over and over.
Biologists have conducted a jillion catch-and-release studies, and with all factors equal, salmonid survival rates from one research project to another prove similar.
Ninety-five percent to 98 percent survive catch and release when anglers choose flies or artificial lures as opposed to bait. With bait, survival plummets to a dismal 10 percent with deeply hooked salmonids and 65 percent to 70 percent on lightly hooked ones. In most studies, we're talking average anglers handling the fish, too, including klutzes. Superb fish handlers can have 100-percent survival week after week.
When a doubting Thomas talks to me about rough salmonid handling killing fish, a thought pops to mind: In 1992, on the Stillwater River in Orono, a group of outdoor writers, including me, watched a demonstration with a floatplane dropping spring-yearling brookies while flying more than 80 miles per hour above the water. The fishhit the meniscus with loud splats, leaving several belly up. After two minutes, a vast majority had swum off, impressing me with their durability. No one can throw a wiggling, slippery fish with such velocity on the release.
Clearly, increased voluntary catch-and-release and artificial-lures-only or even more C&R and ALO regulations would improve Maine fishing, and why not? A live salmonid can play and grow; a dead one can't.
A final thought: As a general rule, Maine waters with strict regs attract crowds while places with general regs often offer solitude, particularly this month. This observable truth offers positive proof that a huge customer base desires fishing in places where regulations protect the resource for future generations. State officials should cater more to public demand. It's that simple.
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