Spring is for Stripers
Apr 11th, 2008 | By Hank | Category: Fish, Hunting & Fishing Stories | Comments | 3 Comments |
Today was the first warm day of spring, the first day over 80 degrees — a day that will surely do violence to my lettuce patch. It was also the first day I thought to escape for a little while to the river, where my friend Jason and I dipped our lines in hopes of catching one of my favorite fish, the striped bass.
Stripers, rockfish, whatever you call them, these bass are tasty. I can tell a rockfish from a cod, a largemouth bass or any other sort of fish in one bite; there’s something special about them — they seem to have, for some reason, an extra helping of that savory umami taste chefs are mooning over these days.
We found a little spot in West Sacramento along a sandbar — stripers like to patrol such underwater humps in search of easy pickins — and tossed our sardines into the drink. Almost immediately we got a bite: Tunk. Tunk, tunk. Would the fish take the bait? Nope.
This continued for an hour or more. Jason and I began eyeing the paired-up Canada geese and mallards cavorting along the river. Just a few months ago we spent inordinate amounts of time trying to lure these birds within shotgun range. Could they discern that our interest in them was darker than that of the bread-tossing children on the other bank? Probably not.
Soon Jason felt a tug that wasn’t one of the bait-stealing hooligans that had been picking at us — this was a real striper, or at least a keeper. He reeled the fish in and sure enough, it was 19.5 inches; legal, with an inch-and-a-half to spare.
He graciously gave the fish to me (catching fish is one thing, cleaning them another), giving me my first striper of the spring. With the salmon season closed this year, I expect it will not be my last.
I remember the men in the family heading to the shores of the Hudson when the stripers were running.
“WHAT ARE THEY BITING ON?!” (A River Runs Through It)..love that movie
When I lived on Long Island, I can remember many a day getting a phone call: “They’re crashing the beach!” Then everyone drops what they’re doing, grabs their rods and rushes to the bonanza — fish galore, then nothing. Back to work.
Such a pity about salmon season – we Oregonians are really feeling it (fortunately I still have a freezer full of sturgeon and steelhead to make up for it).
I am enjoying your blog so much.