JAY MANN'S FISHING WEBSITE ::: Daily Blog --
Feb. 8, 2012 -- weekly blog
Dogs Are the True Rat Pack;
Have Healthy Happy Flashes
Last week, I verbally pussyfooted through the feral cat predicament in Harvey Cedars, as much to stir the readership pot as to actually address the issue. The latest polls show my readership took a bit of a drop from just over 22 million readers down to approximately 9 – and most of those are in Rahway Prison.
I had fully expected the feralists to rabidly and rapidly respond. Instead, I got dumped on by the bird people. A number of them lambasted me for not highlighting the “insane” damage done to indigenous wildlife by feral and free-roaming pet cats.
I was actually holding that heavily documented feral cat threat to wildlife in abeyance – for retort time.
I did get one covertly supportive angle regarding ferals -- from a birder much less. She suggested that the wild cats might “kill a rat or two.”
I righteously corrected her by noting cats kill mice, seldom rats. Rats are big and can actually be very formidable.
Domestic cats, even feralized models, show their domesticity by seldom confronting anything that can even remotely fight back, thus the noncombative Mexican standoffs at outdoor dinner bowls, as feral cats meet possum, coons, skunks and such.
RATS!: I can’t resist a rat sidebar here. These large rodents have killed more people than just about any other creature on the planet, short of mosquitoes. In Europe, plague-ravaged people first tried cats as a rat deterrent but the savagery of roused rats sent all but the gnarliest of cats packing. It was then that the worthiest of rat destroyers came to the forefront: dogs, specifically terriers.
Small, wiry and brave beyond compare, a whole slew of rat-despising terrier breeds were saddled with the ignoble title of “ratters.” Terriers were indeed terrors to rats.
Obviously, rats can reproduce to match most predation pressures, however, it was found that even the scent of terriers in the ‘hood drove rats to other domains. By driving the rodents into more natural surroundings, Mother Nature got a shot at them, via a slew of predators.
Terriers as morosely efficient ratters recently became underground headline news in the Big Apple. A YouTube videotape emerged showing the rat-ripping talents of a Jack Russell terrier – famed as a foxer but arguably the greatest ratters of all time. In rat-challenged section of Washington Square Park, a lone Jack Russell was being loosed nightly by its owner. In the video, the utterly ecstatic terrier killed15 rats – in living color. And we’re talking NYC-grade rats here – cat killers.
It would seem such a night of play for the pup would be a win-win – an exercised terrier and shredded rats. Ah, but to the ridiculous rescue arrive People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Donning their full foolishness regalia, PETA responded in royal rage to the killing of the filthy vermin.
Per the underground publication “The Gothamist,” PETA’s Martin Mersereau said, "Setting dogs upon rats is depraved, sadistic, and entirely illegal. It constitutes an explicit violation of New York’s anti-cruelty laws."
WTF!
Mersereau and PETA ferreted out portions of New York’s oft-antiquated Agriculture and Markets Law, prohibiting “anyone from unjustifiably injuring, maiming, or killing an animal” or allowing “fights between any animals.” That later one was originally used to quell cock fights.
Sidestepping the boundless moronics of PETA, this story is more an affirmation of the Michael Jordan-quality ratter capacities of terriers.
By the by, I followed up on this story and I was told that this NYC terrier/ratting game involves a society of sorts. The members routinely “exercise” their terriers at a goodly number of locales. What’s more, that 15-rat take seen in the video was a “poor night” for that Jack Russell.
HOLGATE HAPPENINGS: The access point on and off Holgate seems to be holding true, after a design change was implemented by the LBT Public Service crew – which has taken real good care of us.
We may be able to buggy to the end from now until plover times.
As for future Holgate days, I have it on good authority that Army Corps reps have visited the eroded zones and are fully aware of the disappearing act the Island’s south end is performing. What’s to be done by authorities is far less obvious.
Still high on the list of can-dos is the two-bird scenario, whereby deplorably shoaled portions of the Intracoastal Waterway on the west side of Holgate could be dredged and the bottom sand material piped over to the Holgate frontbeach. Such an exchange program would not be part of the ongoing Long Beach Island Storm Damage Reduction Project, which has replenished the beaches of Surf City, Harvey Cedars and (shortly) Brant Beach. Work to keep navigable channels open falls under a whole other set of standards and funding.
Complicating that approach to Holgate’s erosion is the fact the portion of the ICW off the south end of the Island is under the stewardship of the state, though Trenton can (and would) call on the federal Army Corps if need be.
Unchanged is the fact that bay-to-beach dredge piping cannot go across the Holgate Wilderness Area. (Piping plovers, yes. Dredge piping, no.) That means dredge pipes would need to extend across the small strip of privately owned land abutting the north part of the Holgate Wilderness Area.
While the fine folks with homes facing the Holgate Refuge would find pipeloads of activity at their back door steps during a Holgate beachfront re-do, the resulting bigger and better beachfront would actually distance their properties from the beach-related goings on, like beach buggy traffic and beachcomber comings and goings. Hopefully Dick et al will see the long-term bennies of allowing pipes to temporarily pass across their properties.
I got a re-mail from the fellow who emailed me last week about piss/softshell clams. He knew about the clamming “blue laws” but figured no one was watching during his quick clam chase on Sunday. That led to my obligatory bloodworm business saga.
BLOODY SURVEILLANCE: I used to have the only bloodworm business in all of NJ. During low tides, I energetically dug our fairly common smaller bloodworms, solely to meet the demands of LBI’s once-flourishing springtime winter flounder fishery. My prime digging spot was a wide-open stretch of mudflats frequented by scratch rake clammers.
At the height of the flounder season, I had to dig on Sundays. Making hay when the flounder shined. I instantly leaner that digging on Sundays draws a crowd. During just one two-month season, I was separately confronted by marine police, Fish and Wildlife enforcement officers and even local police. All had been called by nearby fuddy-duddy homeowners squealing into the phone, “There’s a man illegally clamming in front of my house. Please hurry.”
Even when I proved I was worming not clamming, Fish and Wildlife folks weren’t thrilled with my Sunday mudslinging. I heard they even tried to get a regulation against any and all bayside digging on Sundays. Hell’s bells, I was the only one in the whole state doing it and they wanted a brand new law added to the books. That’s NJ, if ever.
By the by, I quit the bloodworm business when my favorite mudflats suddenly sanded over, the kiss of death for “spearchucker” worms -- a weird bloodworm nickname I always kinda liked.
Weird nature note: Bloodworms are likely the only creatures on the entire planet with solid crystalline copper fangs, technically jaws. They have four of them, which are literally shot out to imbue prey with poisons within.
I’ve had the honor of seeing bloodworm fangs under an electronic microscope and, sure enough, they’re crystalline copper, as if mined out of the earth. They are fiercely hard and are seemingly able to activate the toxins the worm uses on prey.
Per University of California Santa Barbara researchers studying this worm weirdness, the amount of copper in a bloodworm’s fangs should cause it to instantly keel over dead from copper poisoning.
Herbert Waite, UCSB's professor of molecular, cellular, and developmental biology, theorizes that the remarkable crystalline metallic hardness of the worm fangs is an evolutionary adaptation to its burrowing and prey-seeking lifestyle. Bloodworms shoot out their fangs at remarkable speeds. A miss is often still a hit – on rock hard quartz sand. “The worm is going to miss its prey a fair number of times," said Waite, “That means that its jaws are being abraded by gravel. So they need to be made of more robust material …”
So who cares? The federal government, along with various industries, is already ears up as to any uses to which the rare copper exploitation can be applied. “It could be a design prototype for new materials that need to be hard, lightweight, and durable," said Waite.
And to think I can say I knew the bloodworms before they became famous.
HERRING EMAIL: Jay,; Hello and I just read the new regs about herring. What exactly are the type of herring or shad that we catch in Barnegat Inlet? I catch them on small Deadly Dicks and are we going to still be able to fish for them?
(The ones you’re nailing are so-called Atlantic herring (Clupea harengus) and are fully EXCLUDED from the new “river herring” regs. River herring are alewife (Alosa pseudoharengus), Blueback Herring (Alosa aestivalis).
THINK YOURSELF HEALTHY: Just thinking of great fishing sessions can make you healthy, wealthy and wise. OK, so maybe I just tacked on that “wealthy and wise” stuff.
I recently read the findings of a medical study on affirmative thinking, done by Dr. Mary Charlson of the Weill Cornell Medical College.
The prime finding was a highly noticeable upswing in the moods and health of patients who regularly took a mere few seconds to recall the best of times, kinda like Reader’s Digest version recalls. If you’ve never had a good time, maybe borrow someone else’s.
The yearlong research was done on 756 patients, randomly divided into two groups: the “positive affect” group and the so-called “control group,” i.e. the dark side. Actually, the control group just went on living as they always had, sans doses of prescribed positivity.
The upbeaters were encouraged to generate good thoughts, particularly upon rising in the a.m. or when “obstacles’ arose throughout the day. A solid sprinkling of just-for-fun good thoughts was also part of the “positive affect” group’s day.
Sure enough, the overall health all but soared within the group that took time to flash back to the likes of fine fishing hookups, memorable sunsets, perfect waves, magic moments.
Yes, the more sickly control group was eventually let in on how to think on the bright side. They were first taught the Monty Python’s song, “I’m a lumberjack and I’m OK …” No, wait a minute, make that song “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”
It’s really bizarre but of all the amazing instances in my life, the first happy-place flash that jumped uncontrollably into my mind when challenged by this study was the kids-time cinema scene of Dr. Remus singing “Zippity doo dah, zippity aye.” The next closest happy-place flashback was the time I ran, laughing hysterically, through fresh concrete while a whole slew of enraged workmen chased after me. That was about a month back.
"This simple approach gives patients the tools that help them fulfill their promise to themselves that they will do what's needed for their health," says Dr. Charlson. "For example, if it's raining and they don't feel like exercising, these strategies can help them get past this mental block and into their sneakers."
The script, created by Dr. Charlson, is now in the public domain and free to use. Here is an excerpt from Positive Affect/Self-Affirmation Script:
First, when you get up in the morning, think about the small things that you said make you feel good, like _________. Then as you go through your day, notice those and other small things that make you feel good and take a moment to enjoy them. Second, when you encounter some difficulties or are in a situation that makes it hard for you, think about things you enjoy or proud moments in your life, like __________________________.
Wow, there’s life out there. This past week I got a goodly slew of emails, blog-mails, and chatments (comments picked up while chatting with angling and non-so folks, often at church). Much of this week’s admittedly ambulatory column is thusly derived.
Keep those card and letters coming. Just don’t send any alerts. And what’s up with all this alert madness? There are those nearly nonstop “Silver Alerts” on highway digital signs, whereby we’re alerted to look for oldening Jersey motorists -- who go out for their regular morning coffee at Wawa, get a tad lost and ultimately end up being taken hostage somewhere in the mountains of Pakistan.
Then there’s that eye-opening, ear-rattling statewide television version of “Amber Alert.” That’s the abducted kids thing; a super good thing if ever. What ain’t so good is that “Amber Alert” wail tone, a recurring invasion of our TV space via a hideous screech, akin to an electronic goose being torn apart by a pack of feral cats. There’s no focusing on “Gold Rush” when that alert kicks on.
But there’s actually more alertedness now bumping your way, as folks in Little Egg recently found out. It’s called a lost pet alert. A number of e-companies now offer a service whereby despondent lost-pet people can pay something like 80 bucks and have literally every single phone in the lost-pet area called four or more times. Upon pickup, a recorded announcement alerts one-and-all that a specific hometown pet is lost. A description and contact point follows. I sardonically imagine: “Hi, my name is Hal. I live out on that high-speed section of Route 9. I got the alert about your cat, Buster. I, uh, kinda think I found him. Uh, his collar is still in pretty good shape.”
By the by, I have no doubt the pet alert intrusion PO’ed a load of Little Egg folks but the ones I talked to – avid per owners – said they took it quite seriously and hopped to, assuming their finest look-about mode, some even stepping outside just to check nearby.
It would almost be worth 80 bucks to launch an all-points phone-out pet alert for an “18-foot python that goes by the name of Kaa. Very friendly. Red collar. Often enters vehicles through the smallest of openings. Enjoys cats.”
Per usual, I have to think in terms of retiring someday so I’m wondering about a bite-alert service. For just a C-note a year, you get real-time phone messages about where blitzes have busted out. I can see working out an agreement with the sate to use that westbound-facing digital sign on Rte. 72, Manahawkin. Flash: “Turn around! Bass blitz just began on Hudson Avenue!”
FERAL NONSENSE: Of course, I have to chime in on this feral cat to-do in Harvey Cedars, whereby a man was cited for feeding untamed domestic cats, which are rather (quite) numerous within that small high-end borough.
Firstly, I know wild. Been there, seen that. Domestic cats -- and even ferals are domestic -- aren’t meant to be untamed.
While happily homed felines are things of beauty and benevolence, feral cats are a whole other beast. And if you’ve ever seen one caged or cornered, it’s obvious homeless cats quickly morph into a form of misaligned urban wildlife.
Per studies, a solid majority of cat lovers agree that ferals are not their cup of cat tea. Many a mild-mannered lap-cat, during its allotted bout of outdoorness, have been raped, shredded and even de-nined by feral feline gangs hangin’ in the hood.
I oft hear nonsense that neo-wild cats are “living the way they should,” free and natural. First of all, given their druthers, every domestic cat wants to be indoors and pampered by affection-giving, food-garnering humans.
Can an animal lover truly believe domestic cats like freezing their furry asses off in the winter, to then simmer like stewing roadkill all summer -- hungry on a daily basis?
I already hear the poorly thought-out retort: That’s why we feed them. What? To further perpetuate the torment, as more and more animals are born into the festering feral mix? And don’t tell me all the ferals are spayed or fixed. Ask animal control, or the Humans Society, about that notion.
What’s more, do feralaphiles ever stop to think that the cats they’re clandestinely feeding are the alphas, fully willing and able to fend off – kill when possible -- any lessers? Hey, you wanted nature, dude. It’s survival of the fittest – in a venue unsuited to such inhumane hierarchies.
Finally, if you persist in that backyard “let them live wild” thinking, let’s turn it up a notch and allow feral pit bulls. Hell, I’ll feed them. You can see how ridiculous feral feeding can get?
AND STAY AWAY!: I will take fleeting credit for being the only weather prognosticator who predicted, far ahead of time, this freakishly feeble winter. To say I have to share the credit with (La) Niña is an understatement. She’s actually done all the heavy lifting, steering Jet Streams way to our north. I’ve opportunistically cashed in. This winter I’ve been fully able to carry on with my therapeutic treasure hunting, backwoods tracking, mountain biking and (soon) trail running.
Per the latest South Pacific Ocean temp readings, Niña remains quite the meteorological matriarch. She’s holding strong and steady. I should note that Niña has often fostered dramatic March storms in our area. Such wet and wild events aren’t likely until we get a more prolonged inflow of moist southerly winds.
For those of you hell-bent on global warmingizing every mild winter into living proof of doomstimes, you might want to check out Alaska. That region is struggling within one of its coldest winters in decades. And when one speaks of “coldest ever” in Alaskan terms, you better be wearing layers just to mention such.
NINA FUELS THE FLU? Fairly fearsome fallout from a Niña reign was recently put forth by Ivy League brain trusts.
A team of researchers from Columbia University and Harvard School of Public Health has found that dramatic La Niña appearances – and we’re having a doubly dramatic one -- have preceded the last four worldwide (and catastrophic) flu pandemics.
The team’s study, currently published online in “Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences,” points the finger of pandemic blame squarely on the wings of migrating birds, long thought to be the so-called reservoir of the human influenza virus. La Niña seems to modify avian migratory patterns – placing birdlife closer to humans and domestic livestock. Also adding to the viral exchange is milder weather, creating heightened contact potential.
Study co-author, Dr Jeffrey Shaman from Columbia University, was quoted as saying, “We know that pandemics arise from dramatic changes in the influenza genome. Our hypothesis is that La Nina sets the stage for these changes by reshuffling the mixing patterns of migratory birds, which are a major reservoir for influenza.”
SUSHI BY THE THOUSANDS: The world’s most valuable tuna, a $740,000 giant bluefin tuna weighing 593-pound, caught off Northern Japan, was consumed in bite-sized portions -- in less than 24 hours!
Last week, the Kiyomura Co., a Tokyo-based firm operating the popular “Sushi Zanmai” chain, ceremoniously purchased the just-landed fish.
The media hoopla surrounding the big buy launched the chain to the top of Japan’s highly competitive sushi chain leader’s list.
The mega-yen purchase was also a boost to the company’s employees. "Certainly the morale of our staffers were greatly raised," recalled Kiyomura Co. president, Kiyoshi Kimura, 59.
Unlike similarly employed American employees, that company’s worker’s had something a little different in mind when they whispered, “I’d like to get a piece of that action.” They did get a piece – along with squeeze of rice.
Had the fish’s price line been mercenarily maintained into the customer’s mouth, a tiny shaving of the tuna would have cost about $125. While that bft’s fame would have easily allowed the buyer to find plenty of folks willing to pay big yen for the honor of downing such a celebrated fish, Kimura went the admirably righteous route and charged the exact same price of an everyday bluefin tuna, about six bucks. Very cool guy.
Speaking to business publications, Kimura admitted that part of his generosity was aimed at boosting the wavering reputation of the Japanese fish market – and the nation’s suspect ocean waters – in the wake of the tsunami.
I saw a photo of the head of the world’s wealthiest (so to speak) tuna many days after it was caught. Oddly, it was perfectly intact. I have to think that was a promotional photo-op thing since the cheek meat and eyes of that monster hadn’t been removed. Five gran, easy.
RI ROUGHNECK COOLED: Up Rhode Island way, a commercial fishing boat captain is facing some serious downtime --- in the cooler.
Richard Wetherell, 61, has pleaded guilty to assaulting two federal at-sea monitors. Those monitors are the folks assigned by the Magnuson Act to watch what’s what aboard certain commercial vessels. They ostensibly collect data, though there is little doubt they also record any fishy fishing practices.
I’m the first to admit that, in the heat of the long-hours commercial fishing moment, things can get testy – and downright nasty -- on virtually any vessel. However, you have to be a bit too far astern to openly attack federal officials.
Wetherell was charged with physically attacking, impeding and intimidating the monitors, on at least two separate occasions. He faces a year in jail and $200,000 in fines.
His defense: “Hey, I’m the captain. I’ll attack, impede and intimidate anyone I feel like.”
Uh, meet Bubba, Cap.
PISS CLAM PRIMER: Email: We were walking the blowout tide over the weekend and came across the famed piss clams shooting up streams of water. We even digging as fast as we could but we couldn’t catch them. What can you tell me about this speedy bugger? Most of all how do you catch them?
You’re touching a bay subject near and dear to me. I always enjoy talking about piss clams since they’re seldom a hot topic when compared to other edible clams. What’s more, even bay seasoned shellfishermen rarely know the ins and outs of this deep-digging, highly secretive bivalve.
To begin with, we kinda oughta nix the piss clam references and use it’s more respectable name, the softshell clam. Oddly, that name seldom sticks for very long, being regionally displaced with a load of nicknames, including Ipswichs, longnecks, and, very commonly, steamers. However, that last nickname doesn’t fly well locally since we reserve the expression “steamer” for small (just keeper-sized) hardshell clams.
Whatever you dub them, softshell clams are not big in the professional baymen realm. Demand just ain’t there, at least hereabouts. There was once a middling market on LBI, one I tapped into back in the day. Older Old World folks bought all of them. I can still hear old lady Shorely yelling down the block, “You got any a them pissers today?”
Another reason pissers, I mean softshells aren’t particularly attractive to pros are their delicate nature, i.e. softshells. It’s a bitch getting them out of the sand without cracking their decidedly fragile shells. Even when dug, there’s the testy matter of tenderly transporting large numbers of them.
Another drawback is the work involved with digging softshells. And it is truly digging. Archetypal clamming methods, like treading, raking or tonging, won’t get you anywhere near softshells.
As to digging softshells, they ain’t where you think they are. If you’re standing on mud where hardclams hang, you’re too close to water. Softshells are way up high. They are located found by first finding air holes then digging down with heavier digging equipment. I use a Martha Stewart digging fork, signed model.
Once you’ve dug down a foot or more (to very drippy sand), you have to nix the tool. Even a minor poke to the clam means busted a clam shell. You then begin literally groping around, by hand, in the wet sand. Clam by feel alone. Some holes have a dozen or more clams.
Be very aware of toxic sand cobras. They run in that layer, measure five feet long and have some of the longest and deadliest fangs in the business. Unfortunately, the only way you know if a subterranean sand cobra is in a hole is after you feel an seemingly innocent skin poke. We call a softshell clam hole with a rigid clammer lying next to it a “dead hole.”
Yes, you need a license to dig softshell clams and they count toward your daily recreational allotment of 150 clams.
As to your recent sightings of “piss clams,” I have to dispel a deeply entrenched falsehood. Those squirts of water shooting into the air when walking low tide flats are NOT from piss clams. Many an eco-tour guide and even experienced baymen perpetuate this myth. The little low tide geysers are almost always compliments of razor clams, a whole other animal.
This is also a good time to suggest your innocent clam chase over the weekend was a bit off. It kinda took place on Sunday – when any and all clamming is strictly prohibited. You coulda been shot. Maybe not, but even a spontaneous educational clam chase could garner a fine. And it’s hard to deny the fact you’re clamming when you’re the only person along the state’s entire bayside digging holes.
Bloody Worm Sidebar: I used to have the only bloodworm business in all of NJ. During low tides, I energetically dug our fairly common smaller bloodworms, solely to meet the demands of LBI’s once-flourishing springtime winter flounder fishery. My prime digging spot was on a wide-open stretch of mudflats frequented by scratch rake clammers.
At the height of the flounder season, I had to dig on Sundays. Making hay when the flounder shined.
Long story short, in just one single two-month season, I was separately confronted by marine police, Fish and Wildlife enforcement officers and even local police. All had been called by fuddy-duddies, squealing into the phone, “There’s a man illegally clamming in font of my house. Please hurry.”
Even when I proved I was worming not clamming, Fish and Wildlife weren’t thrilled with my Sunday digging. I heard they even tried to get a regulation against any and all bayside digging on Sundays. I was the only one in the whole state doing it and they wanted a brand new law added to the books. That’s NJ.
By the by, I quit the bloodworm business when my favorite mudflats sanded over, the kiss of death for “spearchucker” worms -- a weird bloodworm nickname I always kinda liked.
Weird nature note: Bloodworms are likely the only creatures on the entire planet with solid crystalline copper fangs. Quite weird. I’ve had the honor of seeing bloodworm fangs under an electronic microscope and, sure enough, crystalline copper – with some zinc. It’s fiercely hard and, more essentially, able to activate the toxins the worm uses to poison prey.
Per University of California Santa Barbara researchers, their initial findings are fully remarkable since the amount of copper in the fangs should cause the worm to keel over dead from copper poisoning.
UCSB's Herbert Waite, professor of molecular, cellular, and developmental biology, theorizes that the crystalline copper hardness is an adaptation to the worms borrowing and prey-seeking lifestyle. “The worm is going to miss its prey a fair number of times," he said. "And that means that its jaws are being abraded by gravel. So they need to be made of more robust material than the jaws of the clamworm, which is a scavenger."
That queer copper exploitation could also be “a design prototype for new materials that need to be hard, lightweight, and durable," said Waite.
Bloody Worm Sidebar: I used to have the only bloodworm business in all of NJ. During low tides, I energetically dug our fairly common smaller bloodworms, solely to meet the demands of LBI’s once-flourishing springtime winter flounder fishery. My prime digging spot was on a wide-open stretch of mudflats frequented by scratch rake clammers.
At the height of the flounder season, I had to dig on Sundays. Making hay when the flounder shined.
Long story short, in just one single two-month season, I was separately confronted by marine police, Fish and Wildlife enforcement officers and even local police. All had been called by fuddy-duddies, squealing into the phone, “There’s a man illegally clamming in front of my house. Please hurry.”
Even when I proved I was worming, not clamming, Fish and Wildlife weren’t thrilled with my Sunday digging. I heard they even tried to get a regulation against any and all bayside digging on Sundays. I was the only one in the whole state doing it and they wanted a brand new law added to the books. That’s NJ.
By the by, I quit the bloodworm business when my favorite mudflats sanded over, the kiss of death for “spearchucker” worms – a weird bloodworm nickname I always kinda liked.
Weird nature note: Bloodworms are likely the only creatures on the entire planet with solid crystalline copper fangs. Quite weird. I’ve had the honor of seeing bloodworm fangs under an electronic microscope and, sure enough, crystalline copper – with some zinc. It’s fiercely hard and, more essentially, able to activate the toxins the worm uses to poison prey.
Per University of California Santa Barbara researchers, their initial findings are fully remarkable because the amount of copper in the fangs should cause the worm to keel over dead from copper poisoning.
UCSB’s Herbert Waite, professor of molecular, cellular, and developmental biology, theorizes that the crystalline copper hardness is an adaptation to the worms burrowing and prey-seeking lifestyle. “The worm is going to miss its prey a fair number of times,” he said. “And that means that its jaws are being abraded by gravel. So they need to be made of more robust material than the jaws of the clamworm, which is a scavenger.”
That queer copper exploitation could also be “a design prototype for new materials that need to be hard, lightweight, and durable,” said Waite.
Friday, January 27, 2012: Sorry, I’ve been mighty remiss in updating in here but the lack of actual angling coupled with the overflow of political fishing stuff has had me more in the research mode than the updating mode.
I do have to touch on my favorite always-there subject. The weather remains a thing of beauty – for those of us not liking deep freezes or soaring heating bills. We’ll be flirting with 60 degrees today and the upcoming week reads like mid-spring, with highs near 50 and touching 60 at least once before next Friday.
I’m taking full credit for being the only weather prognosticator to predict this freaky mild winter. Unfortunately, I can’t really take more than passing praise since it’s a La Nina thing all the way. Actually, it’s the result of two consecutive La Ninas, which makes the big difference. First year of a newly arriving La Nina conditions (off South America) can give us awful winters.
Of course, up steps global warming, surely able to crush the trends established by past Ninos and Ninas.
I believe in global warming but rapidly part ways with the doomsday scenarios being bandied about. The planet has handled way worse atmospheric convulsions than what we’re doing via industrial moronacy. Already, the rapidly rising sea level theory is falling apart. Seems the ocean has some tricks of its own when it comes to where to put the excess meltoff. This is not to say things won’t get tight along the world’s coastlines in decades to come. Reversals must be made in how we inflict ourselves upon the skies. What isn’t being recognized is how quickly the Earth can then respond to mankind’s playing nicer with the environment.
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As you likely know, our governor has made some sense of the fine schedule for violators of the yearling Saltwater Angler Registry. Last week he singed into law a bill that would reduce fines from a ridiculous high of $3000 down to $25 for a first-time offense fine --with a $50 fine for any subsequent violations.
I had long been among those who thought the original $300 to $3,000 fines were an irate reaction by the Division of Fish and Wildlife for
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I’m not totally hip to the latest in those things called phone apps – for folks too busy to use the full word applications. However, I’m soon to be giving myself over to the insanely expanding “mobile communication” realm. And one my first app-ings will be via www.chronglobal.com. This allows an instant look at the tides and the moon phases, for wherever in the world you might be. Obviously, you set it for your prime angling locales. It’s always surprising to see the concurrent tidal differences between, say, Barnegat Inlet and Seven Bridges Road.
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Carp on ice. Definition of a catastrophic fish invasion see http://www.wimp.com/carpice/.
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You have probably seen this already.
Blackfish (Tautog) 2012 Regulations for NJ
January 1st to February 28th
15 inches / 4 fish
March 1st to 31st
Closed
April 1st to 30th
15 inches / 4 fish
May 1st to July 26th
Closed
July 27th to August 30th
15 inches / 1 fish
September 1st to October 17th
Closed
October 18th to November 15th
15 inches / 1 fish
November 16th to December 31st
15 inches / 4 fish
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Atlantic City Boat Show, Feb 1-5
New Jersey Saltwater Sportsman Seminar, Feb 11
JCAA 2012 High Roller Raffle
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ASMFC Week
The ASMFC has a busy agenda for February 6–9. The agenda is below. Please go to the ASMFC website for information and the specific board documents and any changes to the agenda. I will be in attendance representing Governor Christie.
ASMFC Winter Meeting, February 6-9, 2012
Crowne Plaza Hotel Old Town
901 North Fairfax Street
Alexandria, Virginia
February 6, 2012
1:00 - 5:00 PM Legislators and Governors' Appointee Workshop with Blank Rome
February 7, 2012
8:30 - 10:30 AM American Lobster Management Board
10:45 AM - 12:45 PM Shad & River Herring Management Board
2:00 - 4:00 PM Atlantic Herring Section
4:15 - 5:45 PM Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board
February 8, 2012
8:30 - 9:15 AM Bluefish Management Board
9:30 - 11:30 AM Atlantic Menhaden Management Board
11:45 AM - 12:45 PM Summer Flounder, Scup, and Black Sea Bass Management Board
2:00 - 5:00 PM Interstate Fisheries Management Program (ISFMP) Policy Board
5:15 - 6:15 PM Tautog Management Board
February 9, 2012
8:30 - 10:00 AM Horseshoe Crab Management Board
10:15 - 11:15 AM Weakfish Management Board
11:30 AM – 12:30 PM South Atlantic State/Federal Fisheries Management Board
1:00 - 3:30 PM Spiny Dogfish & Coastal Sharks Management Board
3:45 PM - 4:15 PM ISFMP Policy Board (continued)
4:15 - 4:45 PM Business Session
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Pending Legislation for 2012/2013: Reference Pots on Reefs, JCAA NEWSLETTER:
Pots Off the Reefs was reintroduced in the Assembly and already has 44 co-sponsors. I understand many of you invested much time and energy on this legislation and others in the last session. Now our work begins anew. Legislation is always a long term project. Rather than getting discouraged, we need to recommit to do the work that passing legislation requires. JCAA will be meeting with other groups to develop a legislative agenda for this session. In future newspapers, we will let you know when to write to and call your legislators. You can begin by letting your legislators know that you support Pots Off the Reefs. You can find sample letters in previous JCAA Newspapers posted on our website. You need to write Governor Christie, Speaker Oliver, Senate President Sweeney and your local legislators. The best way to keep informed it by signing up for JCAA alerts. Just go to our webpage and click subscribe. Directions are included in this newspaper.
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ANYONE SEE A MOVE ON OIL WITHIN THIS SEAFOOD NEWS STORY?
Alaska and the US are getting aced out of the Arctic.
Alaska and the U.S. can’t lay any claim to the Arctic, unless it signs on to the Law of the Sea Treaty, called LOST. Senator Lisa Murkowski --
"We have an opportunity as an Arctic nation to extend our territory based on the outer continental shelf and annex, as it were, an area close to the size of California that would be available to us for resource exploration and development.
Russia has planted a flag on the seabed at the North Pole and is building the first offshore oil rig that can withstand extreme cold and pack ice. Norway is staking claims to vast oil and gas deposits. And Canada has plans for an Arctic military training base. Meanwhile, the US is sidelined. Senator Mark Begich."
"When you think of the countries that have not signed on to it: Libya, Iran, North Korea , I’m not sure I want to be in that company, but we are. Part of it is we have a couple Senators who believe that this will take away our sovereignty, that LOST will take away our ability to manage our own waters. The reality is, every day we are not part of this agreement, we’re losing part of our sovereignty."
The Law of the Sea Treaty originated in 1982 by the UN as a way to govern activities on, over, and beneath the oceans. But some provisions were strongly opposed by then President Reagan and the U.S. has never signed on. Both Murkowski and Begich say it is time for their Senate colleagues to get with the times.
"You need to look at the Treaty as it is today in view of what is going on in energy issues and our quest to be more energy independent, and the potential for us as an Arctic nation," said Sen. Murkowski.
"They need to broaden their world wide view. At the end of the day we have to. We are part of a world
economy, part of many issues where we have to determine rights of ownership to the Arctic," said Sen. Begich.
The other Arctic nations have pledged support for LOST as the legal framework for governance. If Congress does not ratify the treaty this session, it’s back to the drawing board next year.
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National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration head Jane Lubchenco has turned down a written request from Sen. John Kerry to order another scientific survey of cod stocks in the Gulf of Maine.
The study would have helped defuse the ongoing controversy over the level of cod stocks in the gulf.
In a letter dated Jan. 9 but released Thursday, Lubchenco said there was insufficient time to complete such a survey before the new fishing year begins on May 1. The most recent assessment showed cod stocks in steep decline, a conclusion sharply at odds with the findings of a 2008 survey showing much healthier numbers.
The 2011 survey showed a stock level of only 11,400 metric tons, 22,600 metric tons less than a previous assessment, according to Kerry's letter.
Fishermen are disputing the latest findings amid fears that the results, if acted upon by regulators, would close fishing grounds, resulting in their going out of business.
Lubchenco's letter stated that government officials "fully understand the potential severity of the situation" and affirmed that her agency is committed to developing a response that would help fishermen and fishing communities.
Kerry, D-Mass., in a statement issued by his office Thursday afternoon, said he has been actively working with the administration and it has expressed additional flexibility.
"They know everyone is puzzled by the disparity between the new assessment and the one before it. They're looking at ways to provide new information to answer those huge questions."
Along with calling for a new survey, Kerry also sought a fishery disaster declaration if catch limits for cod are drastically altered. A disaster declaration would provide economic assistance for fishermen.
Lubchenco's letter did not entirely rule out the disaster declaration if "warranted."
"I'm gearing up to make sure that any decision goes hand in hand with economic help. We do it for farmers; you have to do the same for fishermen if you're going to ask them to fish less," Kerry's statement said.
The New England Fishery Management Council will consider ways of dealing with the crisis at its meeting in Portsmouth, N.H., on Feb.1
Jan. 25, 2012
Fish Patches for Feeble Anglers;
Don’t Go Headlong Into Eternity
MANN’S HOOK ASS-URED PATCH: I just have to pass on this little chat I had with an angling gal I’ve known long enough to be, let’s say, blunt with her. I noticed she had lost a bit of weight and told her so.
Man note: It is always just fine to tell a woman it looks like she has lost some weight, even if she’s three sizes larger than the last time you saw her. It is catastrophically incorrect to ever ask a woman if she is pregnant, even if she’s only minutes away from delivering quadruplets. It is admittedly awkward to tell a poppingly pregnant woman that it looks like she’s lost some weight but I still believe it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Anyway, over the past few years, this angling gal had gained a tad of weight. In fact, a tad can’t get much larger before it officially becomes, like, a boulder.
Last summer, her fluke-obsessed husband quietly took advantage of her newfound berthiness. During those ocean fluking times when the wind was really crankin,’ he’d convince his spouse that it would be a perfect time for her to slide into the water to cool off. He’d then have her hold onto the end of a rope and tread water. That slowed the drift down real good.
“The little lady’s in, Charlie We can go back to 2-ounce sinkers,” the captain would tell his crew.
She’d be in the water a goodly while until, “Honey, I’m getting cold.”
“Now, sweetie, just think of all those big fluke you’ll be able to clean later on. Atta girl, you’re a champ.”
Charlie would shake his head and say, “That was some find when you met her, Cap.”
However, when I saw the gal last weekend, she was surely getting lighter and so I told her so. That’s when she nonchalantly told me she was using “the patch.” I first figured it was a cigarette issue. “Don’t you usually gain weight when you’re kicking nicotine?” I asked. That’s when I got educated on (gospel truth) the “diet patch.”
WTF!
Yep, turns out you can now supposedly slap on a magical fat-loss patch and the pounds just melt off. I have no idea where they end up.
Not that I said anything then-and-there, but: My ass they do! And profoundly dissatisfied customers who have tried this gobs-be-gone gimmick back me here. The federal government ain’t buying it either. It has repeatedly fined the likes of Rupert Murdock for hyping the skin-deep scam. The problem is the federal fines are tallied in single-millions of dollars while the profits are in the tens of millions.
Despite the fatty fraudulence, I have to respect this diet patch-believing gal friend of mine. Therefore, I’ll modify my ridiculing of the fat-melting scam by fully agreeing diet patches might just work – providing you slap the damn things over your mouth.
What’s more, the diet patches are still on the market, making conmen some fat profits. Hey, if you can’t beat them, conjoin with them.
I’ll therefore soon be marketing Mann’s “Hook Ass-ured” fishing patches:
Tired of angling for hours on end only to go home fishless and hosting a second-degree mock-worthy facial sunburn? Well, Mann’s “Hooked Ass-ured” fishing patches will wipe the laughs off the faces of those sunburn mockers, as you hoist a stinger so loaded with fish that feral cats begin high-fiving you.
“Hooked Ass-ured” patches are embedded with rare and costly fish-producing herbs, first discovered by ancient races of people -- and thought to be used by famed heroes like Attila the Angler.
The skin-colored, waterproof, adhesive patches can be slapped on virtually any part of any body and have been scientifically proven to increase angling success by as much as ten fold – and often as much as ten times.
Within mere minutes of applying Mann’s “Hook Ass-ured” patch you’ll be yelling, “Fish on!” – for at least the next 12 hours of angling. (Warning: Do not apply if not going fishing.)
A Brant Beach angling patch customer writes, “With Mann’s angling patch, I can now fish the puddles that form on the Boulevard at high tide and catch fish galore. It’s amazing. Thanks, Mann!”
And it’s not just local praises being poured on. The Mann’s “Hooked Ass-ured” patch was recently awarded the renowned Tangerian Tendril of Patch Excellence.
“The Tangerian Tendril further confirms what I’ve always said, ‘When your angling ass is on the line, Hooked Ass-ured will bring home the bacon fish,’ “ said Jay Mann, patch founder.
Testimonials:
A homeless man on Nebraska Avenue texts: “I love Mann’s angling patches. And I’m not just saying that because I was offered free food. The patches also help mend holes in my tent – and soon fish keep trying to get in!”
Another happily-married customer emails: “My wife used to say ‘You couldn’t catch a fish if it jumped out and bit you on your fat, lazy unemployed ass.’ Now, I wear the patch and I find it a breeze to catch fish that jump out and bite me on my fat, lazy unemployed ass. Thanks Jay Mann.”
And the emails just keep coming: “I’m the prince apparent to a throne on the little-known island-nation of Hibrentius, located between Demark and Japan. I have set aside $2.8 million for you personally, should you help me hide large amounts of American money from my wicked brother.”
If you’re an angst-filled angler, dreading your next fishless outing, order a packet of Mann’s “Hook Ass-ured” patches for $13.99. Order today and receive a totally free packet of patches by simply paying $13.99 to cover shipping and handling (shipping and handling not included).
“I truly stand by this patch -- right before I slap it on.” says Mann. “So, you lousy anglers, get out there and slap yourself silly, then watch your usually motionless rod go crazy!”
Do not use the patch if you’re pregnant, thinking of becoming pregnant or are just generally horny a lot.
(Oh, I’m gonna catch hell for this.)
DEATH VIA IMPATIENCE: As a public service, I try to occasionally write on issues that might serve the survival cause for my beloved readers, whoever the hell you are.
Per custom, I’m going to circuitously approach a deadly road deranged trend I’m seeing out there, one that just about snuffed yours truly last week. The advice contained herein, as the saying goes, “Could save a life, including your own.” More importantly, it could save my life and the lives of people who owe me money.
My near-death experience took place as I was legally zipping at 45 mph, northbound on Rte. 9.
I must note I was particularly attentive, compliments of my latest liquid energy ooze called Synergy, comprised primarily of a foul fungus called kombucha. It tastes very much like, well, a foul fungus. However, it’s a fungus that grows on you, so to speak. When I was introduced to it, I spit out the first few mouthfuls, “This s*** tastes like a fungus or something.” After the first few spits, I pondered the aftertaste and thought, “Hey, this ain’t half bad.”
Then the kombucha energization factor kicked in. My eyelids flipped open like those window blinds that suddenly shoot up and flap around up top. Bring on “Jeopardy.”
While this might seem like one of my traditional transitory blogs, where I merrily meander every whichaways, I truly believe the drink’s attentiveness boost might have saved my keister – and led to this public service warning.
As you might recall, I was driving north on 9. It was late dusk. A fairly typical late-day train of southbound traffic was heading toward me. That was when the male driver of the vehicle leading the southbound pack, quite legally and appropriately, flipped on his turn signal to make a right turn onto, I believe, Oak Avenue. And just like that it was death being thrown up for grabs. The SUV vehicle immediately behind the turner, driven by a moderately old gal – and I certainly got a look at her! -- just couldn’t wait one frickin’ bloody second for the turner to do his thing. To zip by the turner, She insanely, absolutely moronically, swung into my lane, head-frickin-on!
Now, I have to sidebar a bit because, truth be told, this could have an obituary air if it weren’t for a gift I’ve had since childhood. I’ve been blessed with some kick-ass reaction time. In fact, as a kid, I was the quickest to respond to everything and anything. The only problem was my processing time wasn’t always up to my reaction time. Someone in our kid-time “gang” would yell, “Run!” and I’d hit the dirt. I was actually always more worried about the potentially painful warning “Duck!” so before I actually took heed of what was being shouted, I defaulted to my royal reaction time and hit the dirt at any yelled warning. This wasn’t the best thing. Take for instance, when we were throwing rocks at passing cars. “Run!” would mean a hit had been made and the hitee had slammed on the brakes and was getting out, hellbent on rocking our worlds. And I was of course on the ground, ducking. I then let brainpower take over.
“Hey, you little bastard, were you one of those punks throwing rocks at my Studebaker!?”
“No, sir! I saw them little bastards and thought they wuz throwin’ rocks at me. I hit the dirt.”
“Oh, I see. Here let me help you up.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey! There they are!”
“Now what the hell you doin’ back on the ground.”
That tale told (a true one), it was absolutely reaction time luck that I swerved onto the shoulder – and partially into a frontyard – that I somehow missed head-oning that lady. And I could see she knew she had just about met eternity – a very time-intensive place. Not only did I get a micro glance of her beyond-terrified face as my headlight illuminated her moronic move, but I looked back and saw she had actually pulled onto the shoulder, likely looking back to see if I had managed to miss the huge tree I had, in fact, barely missed in my ass-saving swerve. The entire line of traffic behind her went into that “Did you just see that?” mode.
By the by, if anyone reading this saw the incident – my large red GMC truck with decoys and high-flyer in the back is highly see-able – please drop me an email. I truthfully hold no grudge.
Anyway, in just the past six months two hideous accidents caused by the exact same impatience syndrome have taken place locally. One, in Barnegat, instantly killed the driver, who turned into oncoming traffic to avoid waiting one single second for the turner and met a large truck. The other identically caused accident happened on 539 and left the roadway covered in glass twisted metal and blood.
Interestingly, I talked to a police officer who couldn’t agree more with my assessment of that scenario – and its growing frequency. He noted it was related to road rage, something that has escalated to near the top of accident causes.
Hopefully, amigos mios, this blog might make a few of you a lot more patient, allowing someone turning in front of you to make a full exit. It take a whole 2 seconds out of your life – as opposed to …
BRANT BEACH SAND START: The gears are rolling to get the Brant Beach beach repair/replenishment project underway. It should start next month. We kinda dodged a bullet when the work wasn’t done late last year – at the height of the striped bass fall run.
It’ll be about a mile’s worth of beach fix.
Of course, anytime you talk LBI replenishment you get the indubitable bubble-up response, as late-coming opponents froth forth from the woodwork. Their yawnably tired complaint is that any resurrected sands will be gone in nothing flat, due mainly to worldly erosion trends.
I won’t get into the fact the rise of the sea rise juggernaut is now being questioned even by those who first predicted that all coastal regions would be consumed by the break of a nearby dawn.
As far as beach salvation goes, I’ll stick with nostalgia ticket. As long as I, personally, get some more fun years out of LBI’s beaches screw all you numbnuts naysayers.
I’m now in it for the short haul, dude. So f-off!
Hey, I’ve done the long haul here -- and it was beyond incredible. Ya really should been there, newbies. Those ancient hot summer LBI beach days and nights offered as much fun as the law allowed – and then some. For me, I’ll always peak thinking back to the mid 1960s, as I rode through Beach Haven in a top-down 1959 Chrysler Imperial with two surfboards inside – propped on the passenger’s side front seat -- as I sat in the back seat behind the driver, sun in my face and feeling too cool to even compute.
Those top-down days have been the essence of LBI’s magical sands -- and it still is. Screw your, “Oh, it’s all gonna erode away” negative BS.
Now where was I? Oh, the federal sand fix coming to Brant Beach.
Firstly, it’s a done deal. However, it might also seal the deal, meaning it could be the last of the new fixes via that 1990s federal agreement.
Guess what? Even I can live with that. Thanks to littoral drift, LBI’s beach future is sitting pretty, sand-wise. Southbound sands from replenished Harvey Cedars, Surf City and Brant Beach – all projects contracted to go on for many decades to come – are filling in the beachfront’s hollow spots.
Admittedly, Beach Haven and Holgate are in the throes of an erosion event that even LBI’s trickle down sands can’t cure. However, an entire set of emergency measures kicks in when beach things go catastrophically south.
For near-dead Holgate, I’m hoping an ocean-to-bay breakthrough will wildly activate our 2nd District Congressman (fairly powerful Frank LoBiondo, if reelected). He’s a bit new to us – part of the congressional rearrangement in NJ -- but super aware of fishing, coastal and beach issues.
I think the Queen City’s south end erosion woes are nearly to the point of activating the state’s own beach-saving emergency policies. Emergency measures, including big sand fixes, come in through the front door, so to speak. No big long-term plans and such, just a whole lotta sand in short order. The only way naysayers can stop that is to do a Tiananmen Square type stand-about.
Friday, January 20, 2012:
We’re about to see some flakes but don’t be throwing out your back maneuvering that plow onto your truck. Not only will any snow accumulation be small but I’m thinking a warm front could move through the area and actual hike temps way up through tomorrow.
What’s more, the 50s are once again in the near-forecast. Virtually the entire coming week will flirt with 50 on a daily basis, right through next weekend. There might even be one of those record-breaking days, near 60.
We’re now deep into January and these pulses of odd mild air continue to arrive with weekly regularity.
I truly can’t see anything keep this from being one of the mildest winters on records. Of course, saying that is like loosing the wrath of the CP monster. CP is Canadian-Polar air. You know what that can bring.
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I was chatting with Rick B. of ReClam Barnegat Bay eco-group and the lack of a killer winter freeze is not what the clam doctor wanted. The seed clams in the upweller growing systems the group uses are very sensitive to algal blooms and pathogen presences. It tales a bottoming out of bottom temps to really knock such deleterious microorganisms out of the system.
While I fully agree with that, I’ve personally noticed that another phenomenon can rinse the waters clean of these dangerous little creatures. Storms with loads of tidal flow can also purge the bay, so to speak. It’s the proverbial water exchange: in with the new, out with the old. Big tides mean big water exchanges, easily enough to expunge bad stuff.
Unfortunately, it’s a tad trickier than the bay simply being whacked by big costal storms. Seems the best way to storm-clean the bay is to take a heavy onshore wind hit, especially during times of astronomically high tides. And it doesn’t have to be for days on end. Logic would dictate that even a one- or two-day wind wallop is enough to complete an entire exchange.
The complexity comes with moisture. As we’ve built-out the region, the over-humanified land routinely gathers enough gunk to putrefy an entire bay system once it is washed into the water with one good gully-washer of a storm. We now actually need to adroitly get just the winds and tides but side-step the heavy rainfall.
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The following is an important read for anyone into the politics of fishing’s future:
[Home News Tribune] by Raju Chebium - January 19, 2012
A long-simmering debate over federal fishing quotas and their economic impact on coastal states could reach a boiling point this year as Congress considers changes to a landmark marine conservation law.
The fishing industry is pressuring Congress to ease catch limits for summer flounder, red snapper and other rebounding species, saying quotas are squeezing commercial and recreational fishing businesses and depriving coastal communities of billions in revenue.
Critics also accuse the government of using outdated science to set the catch limits under the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act.
The Obama administration and environmentalists are pushing back, saying catch limits must remain in place to prevent overfishing of species that were decimated before Congress adopted the 1976 law and began to rebound only in the past 15 years or so.
The debate comes as the government expands its efforts to prevent overfishing and prepares to issue a host of new fishing quotas.
In the coming months, the Obama administration will finish issuing catch limits covering all 528 federally managed marine species living within 200 miles off U.S. coasts, something scientists say no other country has done. President George W. Bush signed the limits into law in 2006.
Eric Schwaab, an acting assistant commerce secretary, said lifting catch limits even temporarily could decimate many marine species that are slowly rebuilding. He dismissed criticisms that the administration is bowing to pressure from the environmental community with little regard for commercial or recreational fishermen.
"Addressing overfishing is as much about protecting the economic opportunities of current and future generations of fishermen as it is about protecting the integrity of ocean ecosystems," said Schwaab, who headed the National Marine Fisheries Service until recently. "Even though we have a lot more fish out there ... catch limits are necessary to ensure that we sustain that success."
The Magnuson-Stevens Act — named after the late Democratic Sen. Warren Magnuson of Washington state and the late Republican Sen. Ted Stevens of Alaska — was passed 35 years ago to keep foreign fishing boats out of U.S. waters.
Then U.S. fleets went on a fishing binge. Many fish populations plummeted, prompting Congress to amend the law in 1996 to focus on rebuilding fish stocks over a 10-year time frame in most cases.
In 2006, Congress required catch limits to prevent overfishing and further protect slowly rebounding species, according to Lee Crockett, an expert on federal fisheries policy at the Pew Environment Group.
Fishing quotas were instrumental in the spectacular rebound of nearly extinct species such as New England sea scallops, Schwaab said. Scallopers' revenue grew fivefold from 1998 to 2010 after declining to nearly nothing due to overfishing.
Similarly, careful management combined with catch limits allowed the summer flounder — a popular species among New Jersey recreational anglers — to rebound to levels few believed possible a few years ago, Schwaab said.
Jim Donofrio, executive director of the Recreational Fishing Alliance, said assessments from the National Marine Fisheries Service show summer flounder is no longer overfished. He said that proves it's safe to let fishermen catch more flounder and other rebounding fish stocks, such as red snapper in the South Atlantic.
Donofrio said administration officials won't allow larger catches because of lobbying by environmentalists. Federal scientists and academics gathering population data use outdated and imprecise methods of estimating fish counts and refuse to consider data reported by the fishing industry, he said.
Catch-limit proponents "have no dog in the fight other than they have an agenda to get us off the water," Donofrio said. "What we need now is a quick-fix amendment to allow access to rebuilt and rebuilding stocks. And I mean healthily rebuilding stocks, not stocks that are down at the bottom of the rebuilding scale."
More than 46,000 jobs in New Jersey are linked to fishing, according to Rep. Jon Runyan, R-N.J. He has introduced legislation requiring outside groups to review the science used to set catch limits and calling for flexibility in the 10-year stock-rebuilding timelines.
Rep. Frank J. Pallone Jr., D-N.J., a longtime friend of environmentalists, has introduced bills that would require the government to publicly explain how it sets catch limits and to disclose the economic impact of the quotas.
Crockett, of Pew, said catch limits are carefully crafted by regional fishery management councils — which include fishermen — to balance economic concerns with ecological ones.
Environmentalists aren't interested in driving anyone out of business, said Crockett, who described himself as an avid fisherman.
"If we don't have a limit and it's not based on good science and it doesn't prevent overfishing, we'll deplete our resources," Crockett said. "That has a negative impact on our nation's environment and on the men and women who make a living on the ocean."
Tuesday, January 17, 2012:
Tough day with the Captain Jimmy Mears funeral. I want to add an enhanced segment from a previous blog. It’s down below.
I noticed that the Coast Guard had to rescue a couple fishermen off Rhode Island over the weekend. Here’s the initial read on the incident:
“The Coast Guard pulled two fishermen from the water three miles northeast of Block Island after their 55-foot fishing trawler capsized … The F/V Elizabeth Helen overturned at approximately 3:55 p.m. Saturday and the Coast Guard was on the scene by 5 p.m.
“The Coast Guard was directed to the two uninjured crewmen sitting in a life raft by a red flare. A Coast Guard representative said the boat had been listing to one side and when the crew attempted to haul in their catch, the weight caused the boat to capsize. …”
This is not to imply the Mandy Ness (Mears’ boat) might have had a similar situation. Even if so, the Mandy Ness accident was at night. I know it’s not the best comparison but just think of the absolute change of worlds when night angling, as opposed to day angling.
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I have to offer some intricate politics for folks into fighting for angling rights, via our federal reps.
After a reconfiguring of NJ’s congressional districts, to lessen the state’s total count by one (population decrease), much of our fishing terrain will move from the 3rd Congressional District to the 2nd Congressional District. CD2 is currently the representative domain of senior rep Frank LoBiondo. That means no more Rep. Runyon. Or does it?
Get this: LoBiondo MAY congressionally run Eagleswood, Tuckerton, Little Egg Harbor, Barnegat Light, Harvey Cedars, Surf City, Ship Bottom, Beach Haven, Long Beach Township and a goodly part of Stafford Township. However, Runyon MAY represent part of Stafford and Barnegat Township. That almost means we’ll have both those congresspersons on our side.
Sadly, it ain’t that simple – just yet. Our potential new 2nd District congressman won’t take over the job hereabouts until January 2013 – providing he’s reelected. That means that until January 2013, Runyon is our rep in DC. After the next election, should he win, he becomes congressman to part of Stafford and Barnegat.
Hey, it’s winter, you have time to ponder this.
For the above reasoning, I won’t get into the very savvy angle LoBiondo takes on fishery issues. Sufficed to say he is strong when repping both commercial and recreational fishermen. By the same complex token, we sure wanna start snuggling up to Lo-Bo. Odds are pretty good he’ll be here soon – and I have to admit he has many of the traits (and DC clout) of the greatest rep we’ve had in recent memory: former Congressman Jim Saxton.
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IN PASSING: It was very heart wrenching news hearing of the boat capsize death of Captain Jimmy Mears, 51, a Barnegat Light commercial fisherman. He drowned as a result of the capsizing of the 44-foot Mandy Ness, regularly moored in BL.
I have known Jimmy for something like 30 years. He was always a fun-loving and smiling guy, one of those folks everyone liked.
Loses like this crush the tight-knit community in BL. It hit me hard, many miles away. My sincere condolences to Jimmy’s immediate family, friends and his extended family of fellow fishermen.
I sometimes feel personal guilt when a commercial fisherman dies on the job. They’re the folks who feed me. I’ve been a non-meat/poultry person since the mid-1960s – long before such an eating lifestyle was fashionable. For every one fish I manage to catch and eat myself, the pros get me 100s of filets.
I have written in here on countless occasions how, despite my obvious recreational fishing affiliations, I’m hugely supportive and respecting of what commercial fishermen go through to feed the likes of yours truly.
In the wake of this tragedy, I’m among the many folks wondering how something like this could happen to one of the best captains out there. Conditions were calm. All seemed right with the world. Then disaster.
I’ve since fielded emails suggesting many scenarios.
I’m fully aware of possibilities like lethal cargo shifts, which can occur in even calm seas. Based on boat size/type and targeted fishery that seems fully unlikely.
Might it be another case of a tragic hatch failure, or a similar compromising of vessel’s integrity? Possibly. Anything structural that suddenly gives way and allows in water can capsize a vessel. However, we’re talking a fine captain. He and his crew would have detected a taking on of water. Reports had the vessel upright one instant and on its side the next. That’s fast even for a catastrophic structural failure.
Looming large is the possibility the Mandy Ness was struck by another vessel. It’s the prevalent sense among top mariners, including a number of BL and LBI commercial captains. If so, what kind of captain and crew would hit another vessel and just keep going? I don’t care how large a ship it is, not only would striking another large vessel be felt (especially in calm seas) but most everyone aboard such a ship would run to the railing to see what was struck, if only for their own safety. It would then have to be a intentional fleeing of the scene, a felony of the highest order.
I personally wondered about the possibility of a huge vessel passing so closely to the Mandy Ness that its wake capsized the smaller vessel. Very knowledgeable captains have discounted that possibility, but, to me, it could explain the shutter felt by the lone survivor right before the capsizing -- and further explain a vessel leaving the scene, in that case, unknowingly. Of course, there’s the unsmall matter of ships possessing radar so advanced they can detect the likes of a rowboat on the sea ahead.
Yes, I’m grabbing at straws. It’s natural to want some sort of answers, some closure. I have even gone as far as pondering rogue waves (not a chance) and even whale strikes (mammals with better radar than ships).
Like everyone close to this accident, I’ll await the raising of the Mandy Ness and a possible answer. My dread: The vessel comes up with no marks – or reasons for going down.
Monday, January 16, 2012: That was a true polar blast. Still, it was little more than seasonable.
I did loads of outdoors time and it was actually feeling mighty good out there once the chill was nudged out by brisk activity.
I metal detected a Pinelands spot where an old hunting lodge once stood, prior to 1925 (burn down date). I’d been there a couple times in the past, looking for a highly desirable albeit oft overlooked collectible: lead patch weights.
Patch weights are smallish (maybe two inches by 2.5 inches) square or rectangular sheets of lead. They are thin and easily shaped with light hand pressure. They were tacked (lightly nailed) onto the bottom of wooden decoys to make them bottom heavy, allowing for a more tenacious uprightness, especially those slightly top heavy decoys with raised necks.
Though patch weights can still easily be made, the weathered look they acquire over decades in the ground make the ones I dig hugely popular with decoy collectors needing to replace lost weights on prize decoys. It doesn’t behoove the bottom of an expensive decoy to display four or more tack weight holes -- and often a discolored area where a patch weight once resided. Also, carvers often hollowed out a spot for the patch weights to reside. Not having one in there really shows on a display decoy.
Anyway, I only found one weight but did detect two highly collectible reloadable shotgun shells, circa 1920s, even more sought after than patch weights.
Nature watch: If you get into the woods (as things warm a good bit), listen for what is a very strong showing or red-headed woodpeckers. Though a year-round resident, the population has seemingly been growing locally, quite possibly due to some blights that have killed trees or attracted invasive insects.
These rowdy woodpeckers can easily be heard tapping around in leafless trees, even on the coldest days. This time of year, they don’t offer that loud staccato head-banging sound famed in summer tree lines. The wintering woodpeckers are actually tapping into stored goods. The species is famed for stocking up on winter victuals by jamming insects and seeds into cracks, crevices and holes in trees -- or even old wooden buildings. They often jam living grasshoppers into tight holes where the long-legged delicacies stay alive but unable to escape. That offers the woodpeckers a little fresh meat in the cold months.
WHERE FOR ART THOUGH, WILEY: The local coyote count is down to near nothing. I base that on data like tracks, infrared backyard cameras (many folks now have them), motion-activated hunters’ video cams, and untouched carcasses of road kills -- that just sit around until the turkey buzzards pick them clean.
While I’m sure that state-assigned trappers are playing a big part in the disappearance, it’s likely no coincidence that New Jersey’s nighttime coyote hunt is also now underway, running until March. Great. Nothing our outback needs more than a pack of high-powered hunters firing off rounds at things that go bump in the night. What’s more, I’m betting nighttime hunters are far more likely to be 400 rabbits to the wind.
(OK, I’ll explain that, as best I can. You’re gonna like this. True story, by the way.
The Aztecs saw drunkenness as a truly blessed thing. It was simply heavenly to be bent to hell and back. Obviously, this was before they attended a soccer match or two.
Anyway, the Aztecs were hot on their dazzling goddess named Mayahuel. Two of her main attractions were, well, mythological breasts. They not only looked great when depicted in life-sized stone idols – plastic had not yet been invented -- but the mammaries also magically issued forth a fermented drinking pleasure called pulque – from the same plant that would later be tapped for tequila and mescal. I’ve tasted it – from a glass, mind ya.
Per legend, Mayahuel fed the planet’s offspring from her pulchritudinous pulque breasts.
For whatever Aztec reasoning, human offspring were just as often seen as suckling rabbits -- blitzed bunnies as it were. Therefore, a single pulque-swigging offspring became synonymous with the darling first phase of drunkenness.
I’m not sure at what point a mythological hottie breastfeeding rabbits leads to a drunkenness rating system, but apparently it’s pretty early on. The rabbit thing soars from the very first sip. You go from a one-rabbit high, to a two-rabbit high, to a three-rabbit high to a quick break to water the forest a bit.
Be it a divine calculation or simple unconsciousness, the Aztecs kinda stopped at a 400-rabbit high. It became the numerical height of utter holiness. It might very well be the same numbering system that had the makers of the Mayan calendar finally saying, “Screw this. That’s plenty far enough for a stinkin’ calendar to go. Let’s go tie on a couple rabbits.” Hey, word spread quickly about Mayahuel. And whadda ya wanna bet that just about nightly someone would belt out, “400 rabbits of pulque on the wall, 400 rabbits of pulque. You take one down and pass it around …” )
Thursday, January 12, 2012: Holgate is closed, again. The combination of astronomically high tides and coastal weather inclemency has led to the ramp portion of the access road to be washed out.
While not many anglers head down there this time of year, it is still a very popular winter stop for visitors, including more than a few new buggy owners wanting to see what the south end sands are all about. Also, a goodly number of folks like to grab a clam or two from the Westside mudflats now and again.
I’m getting reports of bass still in the system, surf and boat. I also had reports of small bass being kept by a couple surfcasters. Zippo proof.
Driving up to Buddtown last night, I was thoroughly stunned to moths smashing my windshield. In January? Gets no weirder. I have also seen more and more forsythia bushes prematurely blooming.
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It was very disturbing news hearing of the boat capsize death of Captain Jimmy Mears, a Barnegat light commercial fisherman. I have known Jimmy for something like 30 years. He was always a fun-loving and smiling guy, one of those folks everyone liked.
Loses like this crush the tight-knit
Oddly, I sometimes feel personal guilt when a commercial fisherman dies on the job. They’re the folks who feed me. I’ve been a non-meat/poultry person since the mid-1960s – long before such an eating lifestyle was fashionable. For every one fish I catch and eat myself, the pros get me 100 meals.
I have written in here on countless occasions how, despite my obvious recreational affiliations, I’m hugely supportive and respecting of what commercial fishermen go through to feed the likes of yours truly.
My sincere condolences to Jimmy’s immediate family, friends and his extended family of fellow fishermen.
(I’m among the many wondering how something like this could happen to one of the best captains out there. Conditions were calm. I’m fully aware of lethal cargo shifts but this incident seems a lot odder than that. Struck by another vessel? What kind of captain and crew would hit another vessel and just keep going? I don’t care how large a ship you’re on, not only would a strike of another large vessel be felt but someone onboard such a ship would have seen the hit.)
Even Pineys Read This Column;
Rocky and Bill Sharing Space
It’s a new year but I sure as hell can’t tell it from the old one. Maybe it’s got a bigger engine under the hood or gets better gas mileage. Remains to be seen.
As it is with any winter, it’s a tad tough being profoundly fishy in here, as angling takes a breather. However, there are still some bass being bested off the beach and right outside Barnegat Inlet.
GETTING’ READY: Quiet off-season times leads me into uncharted waters, as I write on subjects only remotely fishingafied. I regularly get helped along by all ya’ll -- emailing ideas or questions on whatever-and-beyond, mainly outdoorsy. So get crackin’. My desk is relatively clean as I return from a longish holiday vacation --though I’m guessin’ this once-bitten chocolate bar from last month is surely still good. Yep, just fine. Vintage.
I should note, as I launch into my umpteenth year of fishing/outdoors columnization, there are two well-marked schools of reading thought visiting this sector of The SandPaper. One is the oft-uppity sector that wants angling and angling stuff alone to grace this space. A few inches of “Rundown” material would be plenty enough to make their week, so to speak. They’re an essential part of the family. For them, I’ll continue to include highly visual subheads in here, making it easier to zip past also-ran items and into fishingness.
However, the familial forerunners among readers are the fine folks who drop in here just for the bloody hell of it. I run into more than a few of them wherever I go.
True tale: Just last week, while tracking through the inner recesses of Timbuktu, Burlington County outback, I inadvertently crossed a (unposted) property line and was put upon by what had to be one of the last Pineys on the planet. Tall and wiry, I could only guess he was somewhere between 50 and 100-something. Clad in seen-way-better-days camo jacket and pants, he also wore a faded oil-stained “Salem” baseball cap – locks of wild gray/black hair escaping out the sides and back of the cap.
His small dark gave way to a bursting and chaotic white beard that could easily hold a second job as a roadkill possum.
Getting fully in my face, I got read the outback riot act about “trespassin’ where ya shouldn’t be!”
The woodsy fellow was obviously enraptured by his own aggressive presentation, the spittin’ image of hoppin’ mad. Meantime, I’m standing there thinking, “This is so cool. A pissed off Piney is rousting me. Who could ask for more during a hike?”
As his initial salvo subsided, I fanned the fire of the moment – and pushed my outback luck a bit -- by mumbling, “If you had some stinkin’ ‘Keep Off’ signs I wouldn’t have come in here.”
He retorted with a gruff, “If you was from around here, you’d know whose property this is.”
Oh, what a tired excuse. Been there/heard that. I shrugged it off in a losing interest way.
My token Piney also sensed the sagging drama level and hissed, “Where you from anyway.”
I matter-of-factly said, “Long Beach Island.”
Talk about a weird brake in the action. His piss and vinegar approach dried instantly.
“No way. What part of LBI?” he eagerly asked.
Noting his use of the colloquialish “LBI,” I had a sense things were shifting gears and suddenly driving headlong toward the shore – a place I was sorta hoping to get away from in the woods.
“Ship Bottom,” I said, feigning arrogance in hopes of re-sparking the former tension.
“Ship Bottom? No s***. I met my wife there,” he all but giddily blurted out, smiling through perfect fiercely white teeth. Not one tooth missing -- or even tobacco stained.
Talk about losing the magic of the pinelands moment. What’s worse, I then had to hear how his wife-to-be had first walked up to him in “a tiny red bikini like you never seen.” What’s more (gospel truth), it turned out I actually knew her a bit, back in the partying days.
But that was far from the only connection we had. During an exchange of names – seein’ we wuz all but brothers now -- I offered my usual “J-mann,” a combo name moniker I use as if one word.
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you write that column, right? My wife loves it. I read all the fishing’ stuff. But I never know what all that other stuff is about.”
Now where had I heard that before?
So, via this column, and in the middle of surely nowhere, NJ, I made a new kinda-Piney friend – or found an old friend I didn’t know I had. Well, I guess word gets around.
Well, if you’re out there and a-fish, you must officially have your 2011 NJ Angler registry Card, via the New Jersey Saltwater Recreational Registry at http://www.nj.gov/dep/saltwaterregistry/index.html.
I redid mine in less than 60 seconds. There is no excuse for not having one.
Here are some of the many such excuses that won’t work (Hint: None do).
1) I registered but I left me card in my other computer.
2) No one checked me last year so I figured I didn’t need one.
3) I did two tours of duty in Vietnam.
4) I couldn’t afford it. (Not to worry, I’ll lend you all you need.)
5) I’m a Jehovah’s Witness. And would you like one of these pamphlets explaining why you should join us? (While this one doesn’t work as an excuse, per se, many a Fish and Wildlife Enforcement officer might bolt away before even checking for a Jehovah’s Witness for a New Jersey Saltwater Recreational Registry card.)
By the by, the honeymoon is over starting with this year’s registration. Things will be a lot stricter. Bet on it.
The last I checked (today) the fines remain insane for being out of compliance. However, as most of you know, a bill is on the Guv’s desk that would drop noncompliance fines from between $300 to $3,000 down to a very sensible $25.
One of the bill’s prime sponsors, Jeff Van Drew (D-Cape May/Cumberland/Atlantic), said, “The purpose of creating the state registry was to prevent individuals from having to pay a $15 federal fee to fish. Imposing an initial fine of up to $3,000 for failing to register with this free database is completely unacceptable,” said Van Drew. “This bill scales back the penalties for noncompliance significantly so that anglers are not forced to fork over hundreds, or possibly thousands, of dollars simply because they were unaware of the new program.”
I’m told our Governeater is behind the bill.
RUNDOWN: Bass are still in the ocean and even along the beachline. I had a decent number of reports indicating those angler willing to put in the time are getting their first January NJ stripers. I’m hoping to get some January clams down Holgate way, reopened today.
I need to include this Renegade Sportfishing report (Monday) from just to our north. It’s one of those heavy-hooking things where you look at the calendar and can’t believe such action is still under bow.
“… Let me start by making an honest confession, there is no rhyme or reason to this bite. Hide tide, low tide, sun, clouds, wind, no wind, time of day, etc I can't make heads or tails out of it. At 7am we ran 20 miles back north and searched for over 3 hours with nothing to read but herring.
”At exactly 11am as predicted based on Mr. Fisheads report from yesterday (Thanks Capt. Mike) all hell broke loose exactly were we started looking 3 hours earlier. At 10:50 am there was zero life, at 11 am all the bass you wanted. Not going to over think any of this as it will drive you nuts, the herring are there, wt's are still 47-49 degrees and the bass fishing remains solid.
…The the boys quickly limited out boating 40 quality, hard fighting bass, keeping their 8 fish limit. Most bass were in the 4 -30 pound class.”
HOLGATE HAPPENIGS: Holgate is opened, closed and opened again. The beachfront is forever smaller but holding its own, survivalist-style.
Expectedly, the entrance erosion isn’t going anywhere soon. Every meteorological or astronomical upheaval usually leads to a closedown to vehicular access.
By the by, some beachcombers have been wondering if the closing of the gates (south end of parking area) means the public is also thwarted from passage.
Yes and no.
If you’re thinking of going through the parking area to reach the Holgate Wilderness Area beaches by foot, it is often a true dead end effort. When erosion has washed away the access road, I’ve seen times when accessing the beach would entail climbing down a veritable two-story cliff of jagged concrete and rusty metallic crap, stuff so nasty it would make a torture chamber executioner grimace.
However, there is a little-known entrance onto the Holgate beachfront. And I’m only letting you winter folks know about this.
Here’s how: Park in the usual lot area, but then walk north from the lot and turn left (west) onto the first east/west road, McKinley Avenue. Walk to the end, where it intersects West Avenue. It’s not a long haul at all. Turn left (south) and follow West to its end. You’ll see a pathway through the dunes. Walk it to hit the Holgate beaches. DO NOT venture to park on West Avenue. It’s mainly residential and has a lot of “Tow Away” areas. It’s not worth the risk.
Holgate clamming has been nearly nonexistent all fall and into winter. If it’s not high tides killing access it’s the washed out access road. Of course, that low-level harvesting of the best eating clams in the world means there’s an easy pick if and when you can get to the mudflats. I’ll be getting there, even if it means biking down.
Important: It’s a new year, in case you hadn’t noticed (as evidenced by the dates on your checks). You must get a 2012 Beach Buggy Permit from LBT to legally travel the Holgate beachfront.
ROCKY AND BILL: (Here’s a tale from our buddy Bill Figley, the man who developed the state’s artificial reef program.)
Rocky and me
A few weeks ago, I took my 22-fot center console out for its last run of the year. I wanted to check out the waterfowl on the bay. When I returned, I was going to disconnect all of my electronics and get the boat ready to pull out of the water for the winter.
When I stepped into the boat, I noticed a pair of my son’s gloves lying on the deck. The sliding glass door of my electronics box was open, kind of strange, since I always keep it closed. My son must have left it open, I thought. Anyway, I picked up the gloves, shoved them into the box and slid the door shut. I started the motor and was soon patrolling the bay, on plane, but at slow speed, searching for ducks and brant with my two-year-old golden retriever, Season. He loves the boat.
Back to my electronics box again, this homemade box is different than most in construction and location. Mine is not overhead, it is just above the steering wheel at chest level so the plotter and depth finder are just below my eye level when I am driving the boat. Because of this location, I built it with sliding plexiglass doors, rather than the customary flip up panels. Small details that are important to the story.
I hadn’t gone very long, when I heard a cracking noise, the distinct sound of plastic breaking. I was paying close attention to where I was going, so I didn’t think I hit anything, but I looked forward instinctively anyway. Nothing there, I didn’t hit anything. I looked down and 18 inches from my face two black eyes stared back at me through a black mask. They were the eyes of a rather serious-sized raccoon, whose face and body were protruding from the shattered door of my electronics box. This is not good, I thought.
Without hesitation, the coon exited the box, slid down the aluminum T-top frame and hit the deck. My immediate concern was Season. Dogs and coons in a confined space don’t mix and I knew who would get the worst of it. Season spotted the hairy intruder and came to investigate, out of curiosity, not malice. I knew if he got close enough, the coon was ready to open a can or two of whoop-ass on him, so I yelled at the dog to get back. He must be smarter than I think he is, because he listened to my command and stayed his distance.
The coon circled the boat a couple time, probably trying to assess his predicament, and then jumped over the side. Situation over, disaster avoided. I watched the coon swim away, but it soon became clear that he was heading straight down the bay, with nothing but open water in front of him. How long could he go before he drowned? I didn’t want that, so I decided to attempt a rescue. I motored over and tried several times to fish him out with various poles and boat hooks, each time receiving an aggressive retort from the raccoon, but as I expected, you can’t lift a soaking wet, pissed-off coon out of the water with a stick. Finally, I draped the canvas console cover over the gunwale and without hesitation, the coon climbed right up and back into the boat. Season remained polite and respectfully distant.
I steered directly towards the bay bank and after a few minutes, ran the boat up onto the muddy bank. I felt the rush of success, but the coon deviated from my plan. Instead of jumping over the bow onto the marsh and freedom, he dived into the anchor locker under the bow and wedged himself in. Now what?
I motored back to the dock, tied up and got Season out of the boat. Then, I called for my son, Nate, told him what happened and explained my plan: you stand on the bow, stick this 2x4 through the top access hole to the anchor locker and pry the coon out, when he runs out, I’ll catch him in this landing net and throw him on the dock. What could possibly go wrong?
My thirty-year-old son was laughing and looking at me like he didn’t really believe there was any coon in there. When he stuck the 2x4 in and touched the coon, it let out a nasty high-pitched growl that sent Nate off the bow and onto the dock. Yeah, he’s in there. Nate looked at me, net in hand, and said, “Dad, you’re nuts, that coon’s gonna tear…”.
“No”, I replied, “we’re not changing the plan.”
So, my son, now a true believer, stepped back onto the bow and to my surprise, fulfilled his part of the mission by prying the coon out of the anchor locker. My turn. It went so fast, I can’t really explain exactly what happened, but somehow, the coon ended up in the net and onto the dock. The last we saw of black-masked Rocky was him scampering along the bulkhead whaler. It still makes me shiver to think what would have happened if the coon had remained incognito in the box and I had stuck both hands in there to remove my electronic equipment.
A humorous encounter that explains why one sliding door in my electronics box is white and the other is now clear.
Monday, January 09, 2012:
Bass are still in the ocean and even along the beachline. I had a decent number of reports indicating those angler willing to put in the time are getting their first January NJ stripers.
I’m hoping to get some January clams down Holgate way, reopened today.
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News wires:
[Washington Post] by Juliet Eilperin - January 9, 2012
In an effort to sustain commercial and recreational fishing for the next several decades, this year the United States will become the first country to impose catch limits for every species it manages, from Alaskan pollock to Caribbean queen conch.
Although the policy has attracted scant attention outside the insular community of those who fish in America and the officials who regulate them, it marks a monumental shift in a pursuit that has defined the country since its founding. And unlike most recent environmental policy debates, which have divided neatly along party lines, it is one that was forged under President George W. Bush and finalized with President Obama’s backing.
“It’s something that’s arguably first in the world,” said Eric Schwaab, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s assistant administrator for fisheries. “It’s a huge accomplishment for the country.”
Five years ago, Bush signed a reauthorization of the Magnuson-Stevens Act, which dates to the mid-1970s and governs all fishing in U.S. waters. A bipartisan coalition of lawmakers joined environmental groups, some fishing interests and scientists to insert language in the law requiring each fishery to have annual catch limits in place by the end of 2011 that would end overfishing.
Although NOAA didn’t meet the law’s Dec. 31 deadline — it has finalized 40 of the 46 fishery management plans that cover all federally managed stocks — officials said they are confident they will have annual catch limits in place by the time the 2012 fishing year begins for all species. (The timing varies depending on the fish, with some seasons starting May 1 or later.) Some fish, such as mahi-mahi and the prize game fish wahoo in the southeast Atlantic, will have catch limits for the first time.
Until recently the nation’s regional management councils, which write the rules for the 528 fish stocks under the federal government’s jurisdiction, had regularly flouted scientific advice and authorized more fishing than could could be sustained over time.
Joshua Reichert, managing director of the Pew Environment Group, said the law’s ban on overfishing forced fisheries managers to impose limits that some in the commercial and recreational fishing community had resisted for years.
“This simple but enormously powerful provision had eluded lawmakers for years and is probably the most important conservation statute ever enacted into America’s fisheries law,” Reichert said.
And unlike many environmental regulations, which are written and enforced by Washington officials, the fishing limits were established by regional councils representing a mix of local interests.
“Because the final decisions were left on the local level, you have a higher assurance of success,” said James L. Connaughton, who helped craft the reauthorization bill while chairing the White House Council on Environmental Quality. “If it had been imposed in Washington, we’d still be stuck in 10 years of litigation.”
But the changes have not come without a fight, and an array of critics is still seeking to undo them. Some commercial and recreational operators, along with their congressional allies, argue that regulators lack the scientific data to justify the restrictions they’re imposing. And they suggest the ambitious goals the law prescribes, including a mandate to rebuild any depleted fish stock within a decade, are arbitrary and rigid.
Rep. Frank Pallone Jr. (D-N.J.), who has sponsored legislation along with Rep. Walter B. Jones (R-N.C.) to relax some of the new requirements, said his constituents are increasingly concerned that their fishing will be curtailed without sufficient justification.
“As more of these limits go into effect, they get more upset,” Pallone said in an interview. “I don’t think it’s fair to put in place a system that’s not scientific and rationally-based.”
Counting all the fish in the sea is an imperfect science to begin with, and even federal officials acknowledge that they lack the data they’d like for most species. Because of budget limitations, NOAA conducts stock assessments of commercial species only every few years, using independent trawl surveys, official landing data, ecological data and interviews with operators, among other things.
Its data on recreational fishing is even spottier. NOAA has created an expanded dockside survey and will use new methodology to analyze its results, but officials say they only this year are implementing it widely. After an annual catch limit is set for a recreational fishery, managers can adopt several measures, such as limiting the season or the size of fish that can be hauled in, to ensure anglers don’t exceed the overall threshold.
Steven D. Gaines, dean of the Bren School of Environmental Science and Management at the University of California at Santa Barbara, said researchers are now developing more effective tools to estimate fish populations, by looking at the size of the fish and how fish are faring inside compared with outside marine reserves. “It’s really transforming the opportunity for us to assess where the fisheries are at the moment and take corrective action early on to correct overfishing,” he said.
Even when NOAA receives fresh data, moreover, the agency often comes under fire for finding a population is doing much better or worse than expected.
Just this year, for example, NOAA determined the amount of cod in the Gulf of Maine had declined roughly two-thirds since 2008. Local fishing interests and area lawmakers, including Sen. John F. Kerry (D-Mass.), have blasted the assessment and warned NOAA against setting cod catch limits too low this year. The current cod catch limit is 12,000 metric tons; since the recent assessment says that only 11,400 metric tons are left, Kerry wrote that this “could require a fishing limit as low as 1,000 metric tons of cod.”
“Are the laws sustaining stocks and also the fishery, or are we just looking at what is biologically reasonable and then decimating small businesses at the same time?” asked Northeast Seafood Coalition Executive Director Jackie Odell, whose group represents groundfish vessels operating along the Atlantic seaboard from Maine to New York.
Anglers have also questioned why they need to restrict their take once a stock appears on the rebound. Summer flounder, or fluke, a popular recreational fishing target in the mid-Atlantic, had been so overfished that its 1989 population was 88 percent below healthy levels. After a series of efforts to regulate the catch, an assessment in October showed the species had been rebuilt, with an estimated 137 million pounds of mature summer flounder in the region.
But because the assessment showed the fish has not rebounded as much as scientists expected, managers are not raising the catch limit as high as they initially planned. This has angered James A. Donofrio, executive director of the Recreational Fishing Alliance.
“We’re only asking for access to stocks that are in good shape anyway,” he said, adding that federal officials have too strict a definition of the the term “overfishing.”
“When we don’t see the fish and we can’t catch them, then we know there’s overfishing,” he said.
Environmentalists and many researchers disagree. Brad Sewell, a senior attorney at the advocacy group Natural Resources Defense Council, said regulators need to take a precautionary approach because all fishing targets aim to achieve the “maximum sustainable yield” without pushing a species to collapse. “You’re fishing right on the edge,” he said.
European Union member states are debating whether to adopt a law mandating the same sort of catch limits embraced by the United States.
Stricter limits have helped several species in the Washington region rebound, including mid-Atlantic bluefish, and this fall regional managers took the unprecedented step of cutting the take of menhaden, a forage fish, for the sake of other species that consume it.
Mark Spalding, president of the Ocean Foundation, said that although people on both sides of the debate need to acknowledge that the United States is facing the same transformational moment in fishing it did a half-century ago in forestry. Until the mid-1960s, the government allowed loggers unfettered access to public lands, he said.
“We had to have this wrenching, put-the-brakes-on-and-turn-the-truck-around” process, he said, adding that when it comes to setting universal catch limits, “this is a monumental achievement.”
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[Gloucester Times] by Richard Gaines - January 9, 2012
A former mayor of New Bedford, John Bullard, and George LaPointe, who recently ended a lengthy run as director of marine resources in Maine, are the finalists for appointment to the Gloucester-based hot seat as next regional administrator for NOAA's National Marine Fisheries Service, sources told the Times on Friday.
The position became vacant last month with the retirement of Patricia Kurkul, who had been regional administrator since 1999. Kurkul had announced in July that she was leaving by the end of 2011.
Lapointe was the state of Maine's representative on the New England Fishery Management Council for 11 years through 2009 while he was heading Maine marine resources.
Bullard, who served as mayor of New Bedford from 1986 to 1992, is president of the Sea Education Association.
The selection process was opened for advice from stakeholders for the first time, a byproduct of the tumultuous times that accompanied the transformation of the New England groundfishery into a catch share management system and the uncovering in 2009 by a federal inspector general of a fisheries law enforcement system that victimized many fishermen and treated them often as criminals.
Sources at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said they expected an appointment to the administrator's post by March or April. Until Kurkul's successor is named, Dan Morris, the assistant regional administrator, is serving as acting administrator.
The short-term future for NOAA's Northeast region — which runs from Maine to the Carolinas and is regulated out of the agency's regional headquarters in Blackburn Industrial Park — is laden with crises, not the least of which is a pending final release of a Gulf of Maine cod assessment that is expected to show a precipitous decline in the size of the spawning cod.
If the finding is confirmed under the precepts of the Magnuson-Stevens Act's reauthorization in 2006, it would require an extreme reduction in the catch allocation for New England's fishermen.
The assessment and the start of the debate over possible options is expected during the late January meeting of the New England Regional Management Council.
The cod crisis overlaps and complicates a larger systemic failing of the commercial fishing industry, according to a filing with federal Secretary of Commerce John Bryson by Gov. Deval Patrick, who has asked for a declaration that emergency disaster has befallen the industry — and for economic relief and perhaps higher catch limits.
The unexpectedly dire cod assessment, however, contradicts findings just three years ago that showed New England's primary groundfish stock to be relatively well rebuilt. The study has drawn skepticism from fishermen who report finding no signs of any decline in numbers of cod they're finding.
The concern about the administration's fisheries policies has been bipartisan, but in Massachusetts, the leaders of the campaign for the fishing industry have been among President Obama's most important allies in Congress — notably Sen. John Kerry and Congressman Barney Frank — along with the Democratic Gov. Patrick, a friend of the president.
Meanwhile, NOAA administrator Jane Lubchenco announced a series of moves of top-level administrators into interim positions that, together, were said to marshal resources for the study of the cod crisis and the best approach through it.
The shifting began with boosting Eric Schwaab, Lubchenco's choice to head the National Marine Fisheries Service, one step up the row to be acting Undersecretary of Commerce for conservation and management.
"This allows (Schwaab) to be the point person on most pressing issues, notably Gulf of Maine cod," said a NOAA source who asked not to be identified.
As part of the shift, Sam Rauch moves up from his deputy administrator's role to fill in at Schwaab's old position, while Alan Risenhoover, the head of sustainable fisheries, temporarily moves up behind Rauch into his former seat.
Thursday, January 05, 2012:
I’m no fan of the cold but I’ve still been deep in the outback during this entire short-lived kinda-frigid spell. I’ve been treasure hunting (metal detectoring), digging old dumps sites and trying a bit of tracking. Despite the relative warmth for the past couple months, I’ve been hard pressed to find much wildlife activity. I have no idea why. And, no, it’s not because the coyote are eating everything. There is also a low showing of those canine prints. Skunks are one of the more common sightings.
The oddest wildlife thing happened last night, about 8 p.m., as I was coming back from an auction near Buddtown. Almost directly across the highway from the Coyle Field, Rte. 72, my truck’s high beams lit the eyes of something up a telephone pole, almost up to the lower wires. Then I saw a matching pair of eyes near the base of the same poles
For whatever reason, a huge winterized (mega-fat) raccoon had scaled the utility pole, while another was down below on the ground.
I’d like to think it was simply a case of “I dare ya to climb that thing, Marvin,” but it was more likely a fierce territorial combat thing.
Whichever, the earthbound coon waddle off into the underbrush as my truck got nearer. The hung-out-to-dry pole hugger – and that was just what it was doing -- could only look toward me in a full-blown “Oh, s***!” mode, as I slowed down.
Afraid the never-nimble coon might try something stupid, like seeing if it could fly to escape, I kept going.
I have no fishing reports, per se. I did get some fresh striper filets taken dropped off (anonymously), most likely taken from a boat off the north end of LBI. Was likely a 30-inch fish.
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Pro report:
I hope everyone enjoyed their Holiday Season with family and friends. With reports of stripers and even a few blues still to the North and only a quick visit from an Arctic blast mid week and than our local weather quickly moderating, we will be ready to greet the 2012 fishing season as early as Jan. 5th with an open boat with only 2 spots left. We will be targeting stripers and or blackfish. I look forward to starting our 2012 and beat the after holidays blues! With temperatures continuing a modest mid to upper forties temperature range the stripers may remain in our home waters for a while!
Dress warm and come join us in welcoming the 2012 Reel Faantasea Fishing season! Wishing everyone fair winds and calm seas,
~ Capt. Steve Purul, Reel Fantasea Fishing Charters 609.290.1217
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[Baltimore Sun] By Candus Thomson - January 5, 2012 -
OFF KENT ISLAND, Officers have returned to the scene of the crime, where last year they pulled up miles of illegal nets filled with 12.6 tons of striped bass from the frigid waters off Kent Island.
This year they are armed with new weapons: side-scan sonar to detect underwater nets, new laws passed by the General Assembly that expand their authority and public sentiment that has demanded a halt to poaching of the state's signature fish.
"It was just a few bad apples, but they almost ruined it for everyone," said Natural Resources Police Cpl. Roy Rafter as he prepared to board a waterman's boat Wednesday near a spot known as Bloody Point.
The commercial season began Tuesday and will continue through February. Last year, the Department of Natural Resources closed the season three weeks early while biologists assessed the potential damage caused by poaching.
The threat of closing still hangs in the air.
"If we find more nets, the possibility of closing the fishery is very real," said Tom O'Connell, the DNR's Fisheries Service director. "The General Assembly will be watching this season very closely and will not stand by and let it happen again."
No one was arrested last year, and just the thought of poachers striking once more has made honest watermen nervous.
It's not that illegal nets were new last year. In 2010, for example, officers hauled in nearly five miles of nets.
"The difference is we never found nets that full of fish," Rafter said. "Somebody knew what they were doing. It was our first time finding nets like that, but it wasn't their first time putting them there."
On Wednesday morning, Rafter and Officer James Seward nosed their patrol boat, NRP 139, away from the department's dock on Kent Island and pushed through a layer of slush before reaching the Chesapeake Bay.
Sub-freezing temperatures did not deter watermen hoping to reach their daily 1,200-pound quota. Low-slung workboats bobbed in the water as crewmen strained to haul in their nets and sort fish.
The two officers began their rounds, boarding boats to check documents and ensure that nets carried the watermen's license number and were of legal size. They inspected the catch, looking for over- or undersized fish.
This season, a new tool — Pocket Cop — has been added to their arsenal. The smartphone application allows officers to look for outstanding warrants, check a waterman's license and make sure the tags that must be attached to each fish before it is sold were issued to the waterman using them.
As they motored to the next boat, the officers looked at the sonar screen for signs of a thin white line announcing the presence of an illegally submerged net anchored to the bay bottom.
Sonar is replacing a decidedly low-tech tool: the grappling hook. Officers used to pull the hook behind their boats, hoping to snag an illegal net. The work was likened to looking for a needle in a haystack.
"The sonar shows us where to look," Rafter said. "Then we can use the hook to pull the nets up. It would have been fantastic last year."
By June 1, the DNR hopes to institute a system called "Hail In/Hail Out," requiring watermen to call the agency before leaving the dock if they want to check in their catches at the end of the day.
In addition, officers and fisheries biologists have been authorized to conduct surprise audits of the check stations, O'Connell said.
The discovery of illegal nets generated headlines along the East Coast and raised questions among regional fisheries managers about Maryland's ability to manage striped bass, also known as rockfish.
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A bluefin tuna has been sold for three quarters of a million dollars in Tokyo - a price almost double last year's record sale.
The bluefin tuna, prized for making the finest sushi, fetched 56.49m yen ($736,000, £472,125) at Tsukiji fish market's first auction of the year.
The winning bidder was Kiyoshi Kimura, owner of a sushi restaurant chain.
Globally, there is great concern over the species and fishing quotas.
The 269kg (593lb) tuna also set a record for price by weight, market official Yutaka Hasegawa said. The total price translates to 210,000 yen ($2,737, -1,755) per kilogram.
The tuna was caught off Oma, in Aomori prefecture, north of the coast that was struck by the devastating tsunami last year.
Mr Kimura's bid, he told reporters, was an effort to ''liven up Japan'' and help it on the road to recovery.
He also wanted to keep the fish in Japan "rather than let it get taken overseas", he said on television.
Last year, a 342kg bluefin tuna caught off Japan's northern island of Hokkaido fetched 32.49m yen, or nearly $400,000 (257,320), setting a record then.
The winning bid was a joint effort by a Hong Kong-based sushi chain and an upscale Japanese restaurant in Tokyo.
The first auction in January at the famous fish market in Tokyo is an important part of Japan's New Year celebrations, and record prices are often set.
Japan is the world's biggest consumer of seafood, eating about 80% of the Atlantic and Pacific bluefins caught.
However, restrictions on catches have been tightened in recent years because of concerns about overfishing.
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Tuesday Jan. 2, 2012
Word has it that big bass are still off Barnegat Inlet. Walt P. sent me this link: http://www.thebassbarn.com/forum/showthread.php?t=276744
Check out all the photos to see just how near the inlet the action is. Add that to the fact the (gale) winds may be laying down enough to make the short trek out the inlet a breeze. West 10 to 15.
I had a kayaker ask me about giving it a go tomorrow. No way. Sure there’ll be diminishing winds but it’ll still be SCA. I’m a pretty powerful paddler and I can assure that you just can’t fight offshore winds like that. If you happen to get in a long fish fight and you might be out half a mile further than when you began. It’s when you TRY paddling back in that you realize you’re in a mighty mess
Still looking for a freakish warm-up by this weekend – after getting down into the teens tonight.
There is a very good nearby auction coming up this weekend. See http://www.legaciesoldandnew.com.
Though there isn’t a lot of fishing stuff but the few lures being auctioned are hugely sought after. The lower one is a Pflueger 1880s.
There are also a few nice decoys (a Rube Corlis) and a goodly amount of local history items.
The event will be Saturday at the Eagelswood Fire Company, 219 Railroad Avenue, beginning at 9 a.m. That 9 a.m. is the preview time. Take it from a pro, you ALWAYS want to preview as long and hard as possible. It is often not that easy checking out items once the auction begins (10 a.m.) And take notes. In the heat of the auctioneering activity, it’s way too easy to lose track of the items you want to bid on.
Look for heated bidding on a Bond’s Life Saving Station original negative. 
Monday, January 02, 2012:
At least two January stripers caught in the surf by two different anglers. Both were small fish but there is this rush catching bass this late into the year. Nope, it's not officially the 2012 bass fishing year yet.
Well, if you’re out there and a-fish, you must officially have your 2011 NJ Angler registry Card, via the New Jersey Saltwater Recreational Registry at http://www.nj.gov/dep/saltwaterregistry/index.html.
I redid mine in under 60 seconds.
By the by, there’s no excuse for not having one. Here are some of the many such excuses that won’t work (Hint: None do).
1) I registered but I left me card in my other computer.
2) No one checked me last year so I figured I didn’t need one.
3) I did two tours of duty in Vietnam.
4) I couldn’t afford it. (Not to worry, I’ll lend you all you need.)
5) I’m a Jehovah’s Witness. And would you like one of these pamphlets explaining why you should join us? (While this doesn’t work as an excuse, per se, many a Fish and Wildlife Enforcement officer might slip off before even seeing a New Jersey Saltwater Recreational Registry card.)
By the by, the honeymoon is over starting with this year’s registration. Things will be a lot stricter. Bet on it. While I got some secondhand reports of anglers being asked for their registration last year (2011), I personally know of no one locally being asked to show their card.
The last I checked (today) the fines remain insane for being out of compliance. However, as most of you know, a bill is on the Guv’s desk that would drop noncompliance fines from between $300 to $3,000 down to a very sensible $25.
One of the bill’s prime sponsors, Jeff Van Drew (D-Cape May/Cumberland/Atlantic), said, “The purpose of creating the state registry was to prevent individuals from having to pay a $15 federal fee to fish. Imposing an initial fine of up to $3,000 for failing to register with this free database is completely unacceptable,” said Van Drew. “This bill scales back the penalties for noncompliance significantly so that anglers are not forced to fork over hundreds, or possibly thousands, of dollars simply because they were unaware of the new program.”
I’m told our Governeater is behind the bill.
I’m still not sure where those ridiculous first-offense fines came from but a standing legend had the Division of Fish and Wildlife so angry that the registry was free – meaning they, once again, had no real source of revenue – that the division was going to make up for it with crazed penalties for anyone not in perfect possession of “the card.” Hopefully that is either not true or the Fish and Wildlife folks have calmed down.
I should note that JCAA and other angler groups had said they understood the hard times the division is going through and we’re anticipating finding a way to acquire better funding for via the department’s mother agency, the NJDEP. Can’t say if anything came of that verbal effort.
I have no doubt this year will show the actual cost of NJ running a free registry. That’ could rear up if the registry’s costs tap too deeply into the state’s unsympathetic budget.
I can’t see any way our Guv would hesitate to sign the above-mentioned bill for lower fines simply because steep fines might theoretically help pay for the free registry. It just wouldn’t happen that way. Pissed off anglers would simply stop surf fishing.
Saturday, December 31, 2011: It’s all brand new from here on out. That’s the underlying fervor behind New Year’s Eve, even though the same sentiment can surely be attached to every eve of any and every day. Of course, if we partied like every eve was the start of something entirely new, I’m thinkin’ the future would look a tad wobbly.
New Year’s resolutions come out of the same mold as the day itself. Ain’t a day that’s ever begun which couldn’t have a hearty resolution attached. But tradition dictates that we anoint a change of the calendar year as the tried-and-untrue time to best concoct some sort of pledge cocktail meant to resolutionize the arriving year, i.e. 2012. May your resolution outlast at least your hangover.
One thing is certain, I‘m sincerely hoping everyone reading this blog is about to embark on the greatest year ever.
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If you want a touch of winter – for whatever reason, I don’t know – this coming week will be windy and wickedly cold. Actually, it won’t be anything more than a tad below normal but we still haven’t had a chance to acclimate to 30s (for high) by mid-week. Then, it milds up again by late in the week. We could be flirting with near-record highs by next weekend.
Yes, the official Weather Service long-term forecast has a truly bitter winter coming our way. I won’t go against the pros except to say that, by my thinking, a bitter winter begins in, like, November. When’s the last time you recall comfortably wearing a thin jacket on both Christmas and New Year’s? If the weather is going to go south, in a polar way, it’s going to need to be mighty impressive in big hurry.
Small stripers
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“I used the money I won last year during the tournament to pick up a new Penn Battle and it is sweet. I matched it to an 11 ft. and I am going to start throwing lures in 2012. Can you give me some advice on which ones I should add to the collection?
I already have a deadly dick, ava, black bomber and a 4-inch yellow needle wooden plug."
(Get ‘em all. I swear that in this day and age picking plugs is like picking donuts. “I’ll take one of those curly things, one of those big uns, two of whatever the hell they are …”
I know that doesn’t meet with the budget thing but it is a bit of crap shoot with even the most famed and favorite lures often being beaten out by some freaky plug your wife bought as a Christmas tree ornament.
When starting to build a plug quiver, I’m still huge on buying a lot or two on eBay or at a local auction (tackle box) or garage sale. I recently won an eBay lot of 8 saltwater plugs in excellent condition for the price of one new plug.
That’s not to say you shouldn’t grab a new at the tackle shop – every chance finances allow. I don’t plug anywhere without a larger saltwater Bill Lewis Rat’L’Trap, a couple larger Zara Spooks, chrome black Cotton Cordell Red Fin, and a blue Gibb’s Polaris Popper. Those are best as spankin’-new shop-bought plugs. )
Thursday, December 29, 2011:
Bass on the blast. Here’s an email report I was sent:
On Tuesday Renegade Sportfishing hosted another open boat striper trip. Capt Mike again took the long ride north to the Rocks to only get the call it was going off on the beach south of Manasquan on big fish. With little life up there and barely wetting a line Capt Mike didn't hesitate to do the right thing for his customers, turn right around and head 18 miles straight back to MI, taking the 3-5's right on the chin at 25 knots. Thank god for weight.
Luckily, we only had to get south of Belmar Inlet when it came together at around 8am. Huge trophy bass pushing herring to the top and into the surf. Called in the rest of the fleet (5 boats) and it was game on for over an hour. Boated our limit and released another dozen and half Trophy bass. All fish hit Jersey Jay Krocs and 10" Tsunami Shads. Another great day on these hard fighting Trophy males. Also very nice to see the 87' cutters holding the line!
HERRING MISCOUNT TIP OF ICEBERG: In New England, Gulf of Maine fishermen and anglers could see a moratorium on cod. At best, they’ll see cutbacks like never before.
Though that only marginally affects us in NJ, there is an ugly angle to that fishery management debacle that could create chaos on the Entire eastern Seaboard if not corrected in the near future.
As recently as three years ago, NE fishermen were reveling in reports that their beloved cod had made astronomical population gains. Those upbeat-and-beyond reports were official – kinda. Sure, they were from federal studies, based on counts by contracted scientists. However, there were, well, utter bullshit.
"It's highly frustrating, because those fish may never actually have existed," Rick Cunningham, chair of the New England Fishery Management Council, was quoted as saying.
At some as yet undetermined point, federal regulators hit on some new data that showed the fishery all but dead in the water. We’re talking a real 1980s striped bass-type crash.
While that cod collapse thing has to now be handled with a moratorium-like reaction, those of us not overly interested in coldwater bottom fish have to contend with the diabolical data debacle that had a fishery exploding one year and all but dead the next.
So I got on the horn with a couple biologists up in New England, whom I’ve used for insider information for decades now. They’re fully aware of the plight of, as they put it, “all our groundfish.”
Trying to ignore the implications loosed by that “all our groundfish,” I asked what went wrong with cod, solely.
I’ve chatted with those guys enough that they know I can be trusted with privileged information. In other words, “I didn’t hear it for all y’all.” With that in mind, they said there had to have been some – and they chose this odd word – “coercion” as the data was being collected three years back.
I, of course, instantly knew where they were going, so they didn’t have to go there -- and they didn’t, per se. They never said outright that politician and fishing industry forces (including angling interest) pressured scientists into fudging the facts. In fact, in lieu of that obvious implication, they instead went coyly professional by saying, “There can always be many ways to read data.”
We all knew that was a worn-out and pathetic disclaimer meant to, essentially, insult everyone’s intelligences.
Face it, in the fishery management realm, the instant any facts are gathered that a great many people dislike, an attack is launched to crush reality via violent disagreement, anecdotal information and unfettered emotionality. When the right politicos get emotional, facts and reality can easily take a distant back seat – as does the health of fisheries.
All I ask is, in the end, a willingness by fishermen and politicians to fess up, take responsibility, should a fishery suddenly go belly up due to their emotion-over-science actions. And I fear there may be some serious fessing up to do if cod is any indication of how far outside pressures can penetrate inside fishery management.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011:
Since we have had no need to offer the hackneyed expression “Cold enough for ya,” I’ll throw in a ridiculously redundant, “Windy enough for ya?”
My windo-mometer has toyed with 55 mph since late yesterday (SSW) through today (WNW). For me this signals blow-out conditions for Toms River. By tomorrow I’ll be able to get into the water there for some subaquatic metal detecting, something I’ve done since the mid-60s. Sure it’s chilly but the fun factor (for me) makes every shiver worth it.
Even though it’ll feel a bit like true winter through tonight, look for a return to strange La Nina mildness in nothing flat. Temps in the 50s will be common into next week. I see no significant (long-term) dips in the Jet Stream until mid-January. Not that it’ll get suddenly colder then, the computer projections that have been right on to this point simply start to lose accuracy that far into the future. Sorry for all you skier and snowboarders, though there shouldn’t be any lack of snow from the Poconos northward. By the same taken, fixed-income folks love the heating money being saved each day we don’t have to crank up the thermostat.
Yes, I’m kinda sidestepping the fishing thing since anglers have hardly been out there in huge numbers. It’s tough to get a read with yesterday’s storminess and today’s honkedness. I’ve gotten no calls, emails, tweets or F-book updates regarding hookups. I did chat with one mainland angler who says it’s still a breeze taking pickerel on minnows. No surprise there.
I did get a fun email from a younger angler whose folks bought him a buggy (SUV) for Christmas. Yes, it was new -- and to also be used as his college vehicle. He wanted a rundown on readying it for the beach. I couldn't believe I actually balked a bit, all but asking if he was sure he wanted to do the beach thing to such a new vehicle. He did -- though I did ask him to wait until next week so he can use a new 2012 beach buggy permit. What's more, his dad is all for breaking it in on the sand. Instead of writing stuff down, I called up and explained the many little things that make for a fun maiden voyage onto the sand.
Monday, December 26, 2011:
Reminder: Only 364 shopping days lest until Christmas.
Hope all ya’ll had the best Christmas since sliced bread. I had one of the better ones in a long, long time – and it was a dud. That’s utterly fine for folks like me. No parties, no long drives, no heavy lifting, no paper cuts while wrapping (t’weren’t no wrapping to be done).
I spent hours of luxurious do-absolutely-nothing time finishing up custom knives I’ve been designing and building for the past few years. I’ll put a photo or two in here to show the final products -- a couple of them made almost from scratch, meaning I cut and shaped a billet (raw piece of metal) into a blade, crafted the tang (handle metal) and, my one specialty, made scales (outside handle material) with complexly inter-laid vintage bakelite materials. Load of time at the grind.
While keeping the Gospel Music Channel’s “Yule Log” program of Christmas songs burning in the background, I finally got around to sharpening about a dozen blades to surgical sharpness. And anyone who knows knives can tell you it’s absurd to think you’ve put on an adequate edge by doing a few quick swipes on a sharpening stone or (perish the thought) running the blades through some knife-sharpening contraption.
REPORT: Anyway, I also got some fun beach and outback time in. For me, very little luck fishing – as in very small stripers if any. I’ve done mainly short sessions, maybe an hour or two, tops. Still, the ocean water is looking incredible. Color and clarity are perfect. Makes ya wanna jump in for a dip.
I had verbal reports (in Wawa and such) of a few decent bass still being taken. Somewhat oddly, it remains single fish being caught (to well above keeper size) but nary a touch more. It’s mainly bait-caught bass.
While bass are still out there, do not take this as a ringing endorsement of stripering. I haven’t heard or seen anything close to steadiness. It is a ringing endorsement of getting out there and taking in some of this brisk clean west wind. In case you’ve missed it, we’re about to exit December – and the ocean is still in the upper 40s in places.
Make sure to re-register with the New Jersey Saltwater Recreational Registry Program: http://www.nj.gov/dep/saltwaterregistry/index.html.
Yes, it’s already a pain to do the re-registering and we’re only into our second year. However, keep reminding yourself that you’re not pulling twenty bucks (or more) out of your pocket to purchase one. When I get back to work I’ll be doing a check with the state to see how the first year of NJ’s registry went -- and if any tickets were handed out. Most of all – and way more importantly – I want to mull over what the “free” program might have cost the state of NJ. If it dipped too deeply into the state coffers I can assure you our bean counting (and obviously bean eating) governor will have to part of it, regardless of how loud anyone screams. For now, frolic in the freeness – and take 60 seconds to re-register.
Thursday, December 22, 2011: As I predicted many moons ago, this powerful la Nina is having her way, now certainly giving us a thin-jacket Christmas. I had a 66 degree reading o
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