Nature Note #176: Huffing Bluegills (and other strange things fisherman do)

Now with a strange title like that, you have to be wondering:

"What on earth is this guy talking about?!"

What I'm referring to is the intoxicating smell that wafts off of a bluegill sunfish after having played it from the water and into the hand. Fishing is filled with many interesting smells. They range from the neglected soft plastics slowly oozing into a indeterminate mass at the bottom of a tackle box to the powdery outside of trout "marshmallows" in their highlighter pinks and greens. It even extends to the often noxious baits used by catfish aficionados to beguile a large channel cat from the depths of a muddy river.

There are so many natural smells to choose from as well. The pond I visited was located at Skaneateles Conservation Area just up the road from Marcellus. As I exited the car, the scent of honeysuckle and roses brimming with honeybees filled the air. The stick-in-your-nose smell of dried grass and soil drifted by as I started up the trail while gentle waves lapped the shore. But hands down, the best smell you can have while fishing is that of a bluegill in hand. 

It's a sweet, musty smell that sticks to your hands like pine sap and reminds you of a simpler time. No other fish I have held has a smell like it. It reminds me of when I would go fishing with my father and younger brother on Grist Mill Pond in Massachusetts and screeching with shock and delight as sunfish after sunfish struck our wormy offerings and fought flat-sided against a hook that drew them ever closer to shore.

These fish were attracted not to worms, but a small beadhead nymph called a Beadhead Hare's Ear. Tied to resemble a small aquatic insect, the lure had succeeded in tricking several small 'gills into grabbing their potential meal. 

While they were great fun to catch, this pond had signs posted with the acronym C.P.R. While I certainly hope that if anyone did fall into this shallow farm pond, there would be someone nearby to issue cardiopulmonary resuscitation in the case of a potential drowning, that's not what the sign actually stood for. Instead it read, "Catch, Photo, Release." I felt proud that I was following the rules and glad that I wasn't starving either as these fish were too small to offer much in the way of a satisfying meal. 

After playing through the little 'gills, I decided to target bigger prey. I switched from a minute nymph to an inch long streamer fly called a Blacknose Dace. Recognized by its brown and white deer hair top, it is retrieved rapidly with short jerks to simulate a minnow or other small baitfish that is in distress. By doing so, this alerts predators like bass, pike, and perch to the presence of an easy meal.  

A little bass decided to hit my fly with the ferocity shared by its older brethren. Blasting towards the fly like a V2 rocket, open-mouthed and aggressive, it clamped its big little mouth around the streamer and held on tight. After a brief fight (as it was only 5-6 inches long), I held my challenger by the lip for a quick photo before returning it to their watery home. 

After a few more casts, I packed it in and headed back home. But surely as the goose flies south in autumn that in a week or two, I'll be back at that little farm pond, casting flies and huffing bluegills once more. Hopefully, it won't illicit too many stares.