9. Hook 'em, Play 'em  Land  'em

Well, here we are. We've finally reached that part of the book that makes all the rest incidental. From here on we can just settle down to the grand and ancient sport called fishing.

You can regard what's gone before in this book as you would the days when you were learning to drive a car. You learned so you could get in a car and go somewhere without being driven. What you learned became drilled into your sub­conscious. From then on driving was nothing more nor less than a matter of doing what comes naturally.

Fishing is the same thing. Doing what comes naturally. What comes naturally, though, changes in the doing, depend­ing on where you fish and what you fish for. You don't hook all fish the same way. You don't play them all the same way. You don't land them all the same way.

Some fish have big mouths and bonelike jaws. For them you'll want a razor-sharp, broad-bend hook, a Sproat or an O'Shaugnessy. Some have teeth as sharp and cutting as a razor. For them you'll want a long-shanked hook and wire leader. Some have small mouths and swallow the bait deep. You'll want a Chestertown hook that can slide down a fish-throat as easy as an aspirin.

Some fish hit your bait like Roger Maris bits home runs. They sock it and sock it hard. You have to sock right back to hook them or else they're gone and your bait is gone with them. Some fish just nibble or suck gently on the bait. With them you have to be just as gentle in setting your hook.

How do you play them? You let the ocean help you if you're fishing the surf. You don't let the mangroves hinder you and help them if you're fishing the lagoons. You baby them if they're mild-mannered, gentle-mouthed bay fish. You fight them like there will be no tomorrow if they fight you like there's got to be a tomorrow.

How do you land them? In the surf, you let the waves beach them. On the rocks, you hold the rodtip high with one hand and sock a long handled gaff to them with another. On a pier, you lead them headfirst into a landing net. In a high-riding boat, you use either gaff or net. In a low-riding boat, you can reach over the side and slip your fingers under the gill covers—unless he's a sharp-finned, razor-backed creature who'd rather cut you up than be caught.

See how it is? Different situations, different techniques. Let's look at the situations and the techniques they call for.

Striped Bass in the Surf

We'll talk about striped bass in the surf first because catch­ing a striper there is just about the most thrilling fishing there is, and because you'll play and land most surf-swimming battlers the same way.

Most of the other big battlers are pretty much regional fish; channel bass, tarpon, bonefish, yellowtail, salmon to name just a few. But the striper is the saltwater fisherman's best friend because he generally is as close as the nearest beach, the nearest salt marsh, the nearest river mouth and tiday estuary with its food-filled sod banks and eddying cur­rents.

Stripers love the white-water surf, the whiter the better, and nearby inlets on both the Pacific and Atlantic coasts and parts of the Gulf of Mexico, too. They aren't deep water fish, though they'll slash and strike and fuss and fight with all the fury of a blue water monster. A cast that carries your bait fifty feet often will have striper-success written all over it. In fact, there are instances on record of stripers zooming right between a fisherman's feet! The fisherman, of course, is standing in the water.

And, brother, when you've hooked a striper you'll know you're latched on to a fighting fool of a fish. Your love of exercise will be understandable when you go home with your catch and suddenly decide to take a walk around the block two or three times. Maybe one of your neighbors even will ask you for your autograph.

For when you've caught a man-sized striper you'll have caught the best and the toughest the ocean has to offer with­out having had to budge from shore and without having had to spend a dime on boats, fuel, sea-going radio and radar, expensively special deep-sea fishing equipment and seasick remedies.

Leon D. Adams, in his excellent book, Striped Bass Fishing in California and Oregon, tells of battling a thirty-four pound lunker for fifty-one minutes before bringing it to bay. And that was practically just around the corner from Mr. Adams' home. Eighteen months later he got a yen for some big-game blue water fishing and hauled himself all the way down to Guaymas, Mexico. It took him only sixty-one minutes to bring a 182-pound marling to boat and a ninety-nine pound sailfish rolled over and quit in a mere twenty minutes.

We've taken fifteen- and twenty-pounders—after a fight— in the surf only a block from home in Long Beach, Long Island, and a sixty-four-pounder—the seventh largest on record in the United States—was caught from a jetty only a mile from our kitchen door. The fastest time for any of them was about fifteen minutes and we refuse to talk about the ones that got away.

And tarpon, salmon and channel bass are just as rugged as striped bass.

So, you see, once you've hooked, played and landed a striper you'll be able to hook, play and land any fish that swims in coastline and inshore waters with nothing more than the tackle you already have.

Whole books have been written just on the striped bass. Where to find them. How to find them. How to fight them. Leon Adams' already-mentioned Striped Bass Fishing in Cali­fornia and Oregon is one such book. The Complete Book of Striped Bass Fishing by Hal Lyman and Frank Woolner is an­other. They are excellent, both from the standpoint of know-how and lore and the easy, breezy style of writing. One or both ought to be must reading for anyone who wants to hang striper scalps on his stringer consistently.

With entire books on the subject available, you can see why, then, it would be presumptuous—and ridiculous—of us to attempt to do more than capsulize linesider-lore.

Take bait, for instance. Or rather, take the subject of bait that striped bass will take. Where are you fishing? East or West Coast? Surf or inlet? June or November? Day or night? See what we mean? So let's just put it this way: in the natural baits, stripers will take sandworms, bloodworms, anchovies, sardines, mossbunkers, mullet, eels, whiting, herring, crabs, squid, clams, mussels, shrimp. For artificial lures, you can use blocked tin squids, spinners, spoons, feathered jigs; just about any plug made. For tantalizers, try strip bait, squid, pork rind and eel skins.

A striper will hit them all at one time or another, hit them like an express train. But, stripers being stripers, they'll fool you by hitting just about anything when you least expect it. The smartest thing you can do is read your local fishing columns for a rough lead on what they took yesterday and then getting more specific information at a bait shop and from other striper seekers already fishing where you'll be fishing and when you'll be fishing.

Join them on the beach. Andy and you. Wet your feet as surfcasters. First thing you know, you'll forget all about the other striper fishermen on the beach near you. It will be just Andy and you against the elements.

Look for nature's signs. If you can't find any such markers, blaze your own trail. Cast your bait and wait. No luck? Move up or down the beach fifty feet or so. Still no luck? Move another fifty feet. Suddenly ...

You feel a hard pull, a long pull. This is the moment to watch out for. Don't get buck fever. It isn't time to set the hook, because he's just tasting or testing the bait. But get ready! Lower the tip to make it more tempting. There it is. There's the strike. The hard, sharp strike, that you've been waiting for.

Now! Set the hook! Set it hard! A striper will hit like a savage. Hit back like a savage.

Pow! Whether he's a six-pounder or a sixty-pounder, you're tied on to a thrill that you'll never forget.

Don't try to horse him, but don't give him an unnecessary inch either. Let him do the fighting ... for every inch of line he can get. Just lean back, making sure there's no slack in your line, making sure Sir Striper keeps a bow in your rod.

Your drag, or brake, is set so that he can take line but not easily. Too tight, he'll snap your line. Too loose, he'll run it all out and then snap it anyhow. Let him run. But don't touch that drag! If he heads for a rock or a piling or a jetty, if he heads for anything that can cut your line, add trigger-finger pressure. If you need even more braking action for a moment, cup the upturned fingers of your forward hand around the spool.

Now that you've stopped him from cutting you up on the rocks, let him run again. Just him against the drag and the up-tipped bow in your rod. Let him run until he tires. You'll feel it when he does. He'll stop for a rest and to think out his next move.

That's when you start pumping. Raise your rod until it's just about straight up. Then slowly lower it to about twenty-five or thirty degrees, reeling in all the while your tip is de­scending. Repeat. Up goes your rod, the reel is still. Down goes your rod, you crank the handle. Slowly and with rhythm, you'll regain most of the line the striper ran out.

Now you've got him coming, keep him coming. But be careful, you haven't landed him yet! He's just been getting his second wind. Be ready for that slashing streak when he starts to go again. Don't ever back-track up the beach. But if he heads down the breakers, making knots parallel to the beach, you make knots parallel to the beach right along with him. If he gets a head start, suddenly veers inshore and slashes back toward you, he'll have that slack he's been trying for. Then a shake and a buck and goodbye striper. And you'll know that he learned that trick only through experience. You'll also know that the one that got away was a big one, a veteran of the wars, a lunker if ever there was one.

So you stay right with him, all the while doing everything you did before all over again. Let him run. Keep that bow in your rod. Keep that slack out of your line. Let them wear him down. And they will. That tight line working against the drag, that bowed rod taking the shock off the line, that trigger finger exercising control when it was needed are proving themselves now.

They'll wear him down. Already you can tell he's tiring. He doesn't take out nearly so much line this time. Now he's stopped again. That's your cue to pump again. But wait! A break in the waves revealed for just an instant a rock that you didn't know was there. And he's lurking behind it, not moving, not budging, waiting to get his wind and saw your line in two.

What to do? You've got to get him moving again so you can head him away from there. But how? He won't cooperate. Pluck on your taut line like a fiddler on his string. Set up a vibration that will intensify as it strums through the water and hits his brain like the sudden sound of drums.

That will move him. Act right with him. Up with your rod, twist away from him and hold him there, away from the rock. Will he run again or is he really tired? You'll soon know. Here's a breaker and the pull on the line is slighter. That's the signal that he's tuckered. Start pumping again. Up with the tip, still reel. Down with the tip, crank the handle. Rhyth­mically. Retrieve line—and striper.

Here he comes, practically at your feet. What a sight! He looks big as a horse. But don't try horsing him onto the sand. Too many stripers are lost in that second of dead weight. Wait for a roller. Get him on top of it and let the wave ride him onto the beach.

Dad, you're a fisherman! And what's that Andy is hooked into? He's a fisherman, too!

You've both earned your toga as Sultans of the Surf. Go right ahead—strut all the way home. You've earned the right. And when they see those stripers and hear Andy bubbling over with the story of how you and he did it, it's understand­able why Mother and Peg will decide to go with you the next time you go fishing.

Inshore Bottom Fish

For a real family outing, for a day of fish and fun-for-all, your best bet is inshore waters where bottom fish become your quarry. The techniques of hooking, playing and landing will vary from the techniques you used in the surf.

The fish will be smaller and not all of them battlers; you'll encounter nibblers and sly little bait stealers, you wont have the breakers and the undertow of the surf to help you or hinder you. So you rig up with lighter line, smaller hooks, smaller pieces of bait and a bank, egg, round or dipsey sinker to ride the bottom, rather than the pyramid sinker you used in the surf because that digs in like an anchor. You tie on your killie cart if you're using live fish bait. You put over your chum pot, whether you're still fishing from skiff or pier, and you're ready for whatever is running.

Fish of the flounder family, whatever their sectional name, are the favorites of bay fishermen the country over. They're favorites for a great variety of reasons: (1) the supply never seems to run out and on any fishing expedition you can catch enough to fill the freezer and feed everybody on your block; (2) they're fun to catch because they're easy to catch and so children love them; (3) on light tackle and a lightly set drag they put up plenty of fight; and (4) they're just about the tastiest eating to come out of the sea. Sole, that piscatorial favorite of gourmets the world over, is a member of the flounder family.

There are two branches of the flounder family: the large mouths and their small-mouth cousins. And their bodies are built in proportion. Every flounder is a flatfish but Mr. Large Mouth is left-handed and Master Small Mouth is right-handed. How can we tell? Just look at which side of their heads their eyes are on and you'll be able to tell, too.

The large mouths include the northern and southern flounder, the northern and southern fluke, the summer flounder . . . they're all pretty much the same fish masquerading under a sectional colloquialism. The small mouths include the winter flounder and the West Coast's dabs and soles.

The large mouths have big teeth and like bigger baits. The small mouths have no teeth and like small pieces of bait.

The large mouth is a bait-tapper. The small mouth is a bait-sucker or a bait-nipper.

With all these differences, it's only natural that you use different size hooks and that you hook them differently, too. The fluke, with his big mouth and sharp teeth, calls for a long-shanked 2/0 to 6/0 Carlisle or Sproat. The winter flounder calls for a small hook, shaped for easy swallowing and with a long shank to provide you with a handle for easy removal. That would be a 12 to 7 Chestertown.

When you fish for fluke you'll know when you find one. He'll tap out a telegraph on the bait. Don't do a thing when the tapping begins except count to a slow four. Then a sharp flip back with your wrist and you'll set the hook. Any sooner and you'll yank the hook out of his mouth. Too hard and you'll do the same.

Fluke can run big and they battle in proportion to their size. They make full use of the currents and you'll soon be told they you're fighting not only a fluke but also the flow of the water. Give line when you have to, pump and take line when you can but always keep that line taut. As you raise the fluke from the bottom be prepared for the moment when he feels the current and sheers off sideways.

That's when you have to turn him quick and keep him headed toward you. If not, that long-shanked hook, in all like­lihood caught no deeper than his lip, and the power in his broad, paddle-shaped body will combine to give him all the leverage he needs to make a clean break.

Now you've got him near the surface. Keep him coming up, but don't raise him out of the water or again the leverage in his big, flat body will flip him off the hook. Hold the rodtip high and sup a net under him, keep it there and direct him headfirst into the hoop. He can't swim backwards to freedom.

Bring him up with the net and don't be surprised if you've caught what looks the size of a doormat. The average fluke you catch will be two or three pounds but twelve- and fifteen-pounders are caught, too.

Way down South in Dixie, gigging is the favorite way of catching fluke. Gigging is spear-fishing minus the skin-diving element. It's done at night by the light of a lamp, on the flats in knee-deep wading water.

Flatfish are flat, it seems, because their idea of hiding in wait for dinner to swim by is to bury themselves in the mud or sand with only their eyes exposed. It's easier for a flatty to do than a round old fatty. To make their concealment even more complete, they change their color to match the color of their surroundings.

The gig fisherman wades along the flats, spear in one hand, torch in the other. When the light picks up the emerald-like gleam of the flounder's eyes, the fisherman looks closer to pick out the contour of the body in the bottom and strikes with his spear. That's gigging.

It isn't as simple to catch a small-mouthed winter flounder as it is to catch a summer flounder—or rather it isn't as easy to tell when you've caught one—for Mr. Small Mouth doesn't telegraph his punches. He just eases up to the bait and sucks like a kid with a straw. You'll never know he's there if you don't lift your tip every once in awhile to feel if any weight has been added. Then you set the hook with a gentle flip of the wrist.

Sometimes the winter flounder will nip at your bait, taking dainty little tea-size nibbles. You'll know he's there but you'd better not do anything about it until he decides to lend weight to the matter by nibbling at a piece of bait that's close to the barb of the hook. The added weight—if Mr. Small Mouth runs two pounds he weighs a lot—is your cue to set the hook.

Just crank him home. But if you want lots of sport and you're in no hurry to catch the next one, you'll have the drag set almost wide open. Mr. Small Mouth has the built-in power to take it from there. You don't have to worry too much about losing him because he has probably swallowed the hook. So you just keep your rodtip low and let him run until he can run no more.

In bottom fishing you don't raise your tip merely to feel if you've caught a fish. You raise it and drop it again every thirty seconds or so to stir up the bottom and maybe a tasty morsel along with it. The sinker hitting bottom also sends up a puff of sand or mud that has a come-hither attraction. That's how sinker-bouncers got their name.

Tantalizing as they are in the way they take the bait, the flounder is by no means tops as a teaser. The laurels go to the tautog or blackfish and the sheep head or redfish.

They have two sets of teeth, both sets powerful. The front row is for nibbling at the bait and driving fishermen crazy. Theirs isn't a dainty nibble, it has a solidness about it that will make you want to set the hook right then and there.

But don't you dare. For Mr. Black or Mr. Red still has to move the bait back to his rear or crusher set of teeth. You'll know it when it happens. Shellfish should be your bait—and they'll chomp down hard enough to crush the shell into pieces. You'll feel the chomp.

That's the signal. Strike hard, strike fast and heave back with the tip to keep him from streaking down into the rocks and barnacles and wrecks that are his habitat. A cut line is as certain as taxes if you don't stop him in a hurry. And, for those sharp front teeth and crushing back teeth, you'll need a heavy wire, Virginia hook in sizes 8 to 2.

Fishing inshore waters, the so-called trash fish will drive you mad with their nibbling unless you develop a sense of humor. One of the alleged trash fish is the blowfish and some anglers get a laugh out of tickling their tummies to make them blow up like a football.

What they're just beginning to catch on to is that they're kicking away one of the sea's finest delicacies. For back in the blowfish's tail section there is a solid piece of white meat that resembles the meat in a lobstertail. Gourmet shops sell it as sea squab, chicken of the sea and similarly descriptive names.

There's no trick and no sport to hooking and landing a blowfish. You'll get them without trying. When you do, and if they're big enough, here's what to do to get at that choice fillet.

Hold the blowfish on his back and cut below the head and almost through the body, stopping only when you get near the skin. Then, using the head as a handle, pull back on the skin and turn the blowfish inside out. That will expose the meat you're after. It cuts out very easily. All you need do then is wash it and cook it. Try any of the fillet recipes in Chapter 15. Man, what eating!

Just as there is a growing school of sea squab eaters, there also is a school of anglers that considers eels a great delicacy. Eels require no special technique to hook and land. The trick comes in getting an eel off your hook after you've caught him.

The best trick of them all is told by Van Campen Heilner in what to us is the greatest book on saltwater fishing ever written: Salt Water Fishing.

Mr. Heilner is telling about stalking a giant striper near Brigantine, New Jersey, when he lets loose with this para­graph that includes his gem of a tip for separating an eel from a hook:

About five o'clock Bill and I sallied forth in his sneak box and took up our station on the point of a weedy cove past which the tide was flowing in at a great rate. Behind the point an eddy formed and here, according to Bill, our friend would be found at about half tide. We let our lines drift back, but with the exception of an occasional eel, nothing happened. The eels seem to get more plentiful there late in the year and at times are quite a nuisance. Incidentally, I can guarantee to remove an eel from the hook instantly without touching him with my hands. Tie a three-foot piece of fish line to your oarlock or some other part of the boat. Hold on to the free end and pull as tight as you can. Grab the shank of your hook with the eel on it with your other hand and place the shank or the curve of the hook over the line and presto change, the eel will twist himself off in a jiffy. Try it next time.

Fish Tagging

Marine biologists—some of them privately endowed, others working for particular states, and still others conducting Federal research programs—are doing much to learn the habits, the movements, the spawning cycles, the habitats of saltwater fish.

Their findings already have done much to better the lot of today's sport fisherman . . . that's you . . . and their re­search will benefit tomorrow's fisherman . . . that's Andy . . . and Andy's children . . . your grandchildren. So do what you can to help them.

A key factor in any piscatorial research program is the migratory habits of fish; that is the one area where you can help out the most.

Biologists net and tag fish, then let them go again. The tags they attach to the fish tell the date and the place they were netted and labeled. Additional data taken tells the weight, the girth, the length of the fish. The tags also bear an address to which they—the tags, not the fish—should be sent when the fish is caught again by you, the angler.

That's what the researchers ask you to do: send back the tags along with the date that you caught the fish, the place, the length, the weight, the girth. In exchange for your co­operation the laboratories will send back to you, if you want them, the tags after they are through with them plus a dollar for your time and trouble. But, if anything, we the fishermen ought to be sending them dollars to help them keep up the good work.

Many fishermen help the research program along by tagging and releasing fish that they catch. Don't try it unless biologists in your area ask you to do so. When they do, they'll provide you with the tags, tell you what kind of fish they want tagged and how to attach the tags. They'll let you know when you're needed through fishing columns and fishing clubs.

How to Let Them Go

There are three other reasons for releasing fish after you catch them, in addition to the scientific one. First, there's no sense in keeping them just to let them die after you've caught all you're going to need for the supper table and the freezer. Second, you may not like to eat fish anyhow, and third, some fish are great sport to catch but terrible to eat.

If the fish is hooked through the lip or an easily accessible part of his mouth, remove the hook either with your hand, a pair of pliers or a hook disgorger. Be as gentle as possible and don't tear the mouth needlessly.

If the fish has taken the hook too deeply for it to be re­moved without damaging him internally, just cut the line close to the lip. A fish's digestive system is such that in a short time the hook will be reduced to body waste and no harm done.

After you've removed the hook, pick the fish up around the middle and hold him partially submerged in the water until he starts fussing and fighting. Then you'll know he's gotten his wind back and that's the time to let him go to fight another day.

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