The big game fishes of the United States

Front matter

OF THE

UNITED STATES ae CHAS.F.

HOLDER

Preface

Anc.ine for the great oceanic game fishes, so far as it relates to the tarpon, tuna, black sea-bass, and others, is a modern pastime. The time was when the definition of game fish included the reservation that it must be edible, like the salmon or trout; but with the coming of the tarpon or the silver king, and the leaping tuna, preconceived notions were revolutionized. What tiger and lion hunting is to the sportsman, the taking of these ocean giants is to the sea-angler, who often takes his life in his hands, as with all the chances on the side of the fish he plays the great game in the open sea from one to fourteen hours. It is wild and strenuous sport, essentially manly, and nowhere is the true sportsmanlike spirit better exemplified than among its votaries who follow the largest fishes with tackle so light that the layman will often doubt the evidence of his eyes. In all the famous localities where gentlemen fish and sea-angling holds, the highest standard of sport prevails. In California alone there vi Preface are over forty state associations devoted to the protection of fish and game, with a membership of over forty-two hundred. Besides these there are a number of clubs like the Tarpon Club of Aransas Pass, Texas, the Tuna Club of Santa Catalina, the Striped Bass Club of San Francisco, and others, which have so shaped public opinion that unsportsmanlike methods are rapidly becoming things of the past.

Every sea-angler has his peculiar methods, his rods, knots, lines, and hooks, and I may be pardoned for giving my own experiences among the great game fishes referred to in this volume, all of which I have taken many times in years spent, winter and summer, on the Florida Reef, among the Californian islands, and along the seaboard of nearly every state where fishes can be caught. These personal experiences are supplemented by the prevailing methods of the various localities so far as known.

While the volume is addressed to anglers from the sportsman’s standpoint, data has been added relating to the structure, habits, measurements, geographical distribution, nomenclature, economic value of the fishes, and such other matter as would interest the sportsman-naturalist. The

Preface vii question of tackle and methods is of paramount importance to anglers, and as my own interest has been along the line of experiments with the lightest tackle, lines, and rods for the largest fishes, in the interests of fair play for the splendid game, I have included the reference to this feature in each chapter where the description of the capture of each fish and its peculiarities occurs.

The fishes represent an important and interesting branch of the animal kingdom. They are divided into about two hundred families and twelve thousand species, America alone claiming thirty-three hundred, which have been made the subject of untiring investigation, especially during recent years, by many distinguished specialists, among whom in this country have been Louis Agassiz, Charles L. McKay, Spencer F. Baird, James Carson Brevoort, William O. Ayres, David H. Storer, David Starr Jordan, Theodore Gill, George Brown Goode, Tarleton H. Bean, Samuel Garman, Barton W. Evermann, and many more whose works are found in the United States Government Reports and those of the various institutions of science in this.and other countries. Among these may be mentioned the works of Louis and Alexviii Preface ander Agassiz; “ The Fishes,” by Garman, in the Memoirs of the Museum of Comparative Zodlogy at Harvard College, vol. xxiv, a most valuable and sumptuous series; “ The Fishes of North and Middle America,” exhaustive and valuable volumes issued by the Smithsonian, representing a part of the life work of David Starr Jordan and Barton W. Evermann; “Oceanic Ichthyology,” a monument — if any was needed —to the splendid abilities of the late Dr. G. Brown Goode and his colleague, Tarleton H. Bean; Jordan and Gilbert’s “Synopsis of the Fishes of North America”; “The Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Porto Rico,” by Barton W. Evermann; “The Fisheries and Fishing Industries of the United States,” by Dr. G. Brown Goode, and many more; and to them, sportsmen and anglers —always naturalists in the broadest sense, lovers of nature —owe a lasting debt of gratitude for making available technical information regarding the game in which they are particularly interested. Then comes the literature of the gentle art of angling and the angler, the lover of fishes, dating from the time of Athenzeus, Oppian, Zlian, Rondeletius, Dubravius, Pliny, Plutarch, Aldrovandus, the immortal Du Bartas, and many others, the memoirs

Preface ix of the men who have founded a philosophy of their own, and lived by it, under the sign of the fish. It is impossible even to mention all the worthies who have aided in making life happier, brighter, longer for themselves, and shorter for the fishes. There is Walton of blessed memory, with his discourse on fish and fishing; Richard Franck; John Dennys and his “Secrets of Angling,” 1613; “Salmonia,” by Sir John Davy; “Chalk Stream Studies,” by Charles Kingsley ; Penn’s “Miseries of Fishing”; Robert Boyle’s “ Angling”; and a hundred more, down through the names of Andrew Lang, R. D. Blackmore, Thaddeus Norris, Frank Forrester, Robert B. Roosevelt, Dr. Yale, William C. Prime, Henry P. Wells, William Black, Henry Van Dyke, Dr. Henshall, Dr. Kenworthy, Fred Mather, and many more. The literature of the subject is endless. Dr. Goode, in the prologue to his “Game Fishes,” says: “My own library of works on fish and fishing is far from complete, yet it includes over two thousand volumes and pamphlets, and my Bibliography of American Ichthyology, which I hope to publish within the next two years, comprises nearly ten thousand titles of books and papers. A large number of these x Preface works relate to the scientific investigations of experts and specialists, but it is not too much to say that an equal number are devoted to the art of angling and the capture of fishes.” I am indebted to the United States Fish Commission for the outline drawings of fishes in this volume, which have been taken from the originals in the late Dr. G. Brown Goode’s Government Report, entitled “ The Fisheries and Fishing Industries of the United States.”

C. F. H.

PASADENA, CALIFORNIA, January 1, 1903.

CHAPTER

Contents

THE STRUCTURE OF GAME FISHES THE WHITE SEA-BASS

THE BARRACUDA OF FLORIDA THE CALIFORNIA BARRACUDA THE BLack SEA-BASS . F ‘ THE HOGFISH .

THE YELLOWTAIL .

Chapter I The Structure Of Game Fishes

A FISH may be termed a cold-blooded, gillbreathing, backboned animal, adapted to life in the water, through which it moves by the aid of fins, which correspond to the limbs of other animals. The true fishes are represented by the types treated in this volume, and a glance at the skeleton, divested of skin and flesh, affords the angler an idea of its structure, and the relation of its parts one to another. The skeleton of a typical bony fish like the perch appears to have two backbones, but the central one (68) is the vertebra, made up of sometimes two hundred sections. Each vertebra is hollow on the ends, the space so formed being filled with a glutinous substance, the edges of the bones being connected by ligaments, which allow more or less lateral motion —a vast amount in the eel, very little in

B I the tuna. The long bones (12) attached to the backbone are the ribs which form the frame of the abdominal section, while projecting upward from the vertebrae are bones (c) which may be termed braces to the upper and fleshy portion of the fish. The pseudo-backbone above (74, 75) is the framework of the top or dorsal fin, certain spinous bones (74) extending downward, embedded or anchored in the flesh forming the base of the dorsal spines (75), which extend upward clear of the body and there connected by a web or membrane, or not, as the case may be, become the dorsal fins (75). Sometimes there is but one, as in the tarpon; again two, as in the perch. The head is a complicated organ made up of many bones; the jaws armed with teeth. The lower jaw has a wide range of movement, and if a fish is hooked here, the mouth is pulled open and the contest is not so interminable’as when it is hooked in the upper jaw, when it can close its mouth upon the hook. In tuna fishing this often makes a vast difference in time; hence some facile anglers claim that the fish should be hooked with a lateral motion instead of an upper; in other words, the lower jaw should be hooked, if possible, when the game is large.

HSld V dO NOLATSXS

1. Snout 8. Ventral line 1-4. Profile 9. Dorsal line

2. Cheek-bone (preopercle) 10. First dorsal fin 3. Gill-cover (opercle) 11. Second dorsal fin 4. Nape 12. Ventral fin 5. Shoulder 13. Anal fin

5-6-7. Lateral line 14. Caudal fin 7. Base of caudal fin 15. Pectoral fin

The large bone (28) is the cover, or door, to the gill chamber, which opens and closes convulsively when a fish is landed. The fish smells but does not breathe by its nostrils, the nasal aperture being shown at (15).

In the skeleton the arrangement and use of the limbs, or fins, is readily seen. The top or dorsal fins (75) are balancers, upper centre-boards, capable in some fishes of a decided screwlike ‘movement, enabling them to move. It also is an expressive organ, erect when the fish is excited, low or folded at other times, and incapable of movement in certain forms. In the tuna it fits into a scabbard, or notch. The tail, caudal fin (71), is the most useful locomotive organ, controlled by powerful muscles and lashed about by the entire sweep of the body; it is readily seen that by it the salmon makes its tremendous leaps and the tuna literally whirls itself into the air, nearly all fishes using it as a screw. The peculiar motions are readily observed in a soft-tailed fish, like the perch, in confinement.

Directly below the second dorsal fin, near the tail, is the anal fin (86) and its bones, held in place by spines (79), which are placed firmly in the muscular tissue. It is these interspinous and rib-bones which make fishes so “bony,” as in some species, like the shad, they are very long and slender, giving the impression that this popular fish must be very uncomfortable. This anal fin is not a locomotive organ, being merely a balancer to aid in preserving the equilibrium of the fish, a sort of centre-board and a rest when the fish is reclining on the bottom. The limbs which correspond to the locomotive organs of other animals are the pectoral (50) and ventral (81) fins. The former are the most important next to the tail as locomotive organs. Fishes, as the California sheepshead, the parrot-fishes, tautog, and others, rely upon them to a decided extent, the flapping or waving motion being readily observed; but when rapid and sudden motion is desired, the tail is brought into play, finding its most remarkable development, at least in my estimation, in the California flying-fish, where it twists violently about, hurling the fish into the air with such force that, supported by the broad pectorals and ventrals, the fish becomes an animate aéroplane and soars over the sea, never flying, for over an eighth of a mile. The pectoral fins (50) are modified into forearms, paddles; and many of the corresponding bones among higher animals are seen, as a pectoral arch, scapula, clavicle, ulna,and radius.

These fins are found in the greatest variety from the long, slender, sabrelike fin of the albacore, to the enormous webbed, winglike organ of the flying-fishes, resembling a true fore limb in the peculiar fish, the periophthalmus, which uses its pectoral fins as feet to hop along the muddy shores out of water, in search of food. Below the pectorals we find the ventral fins (81), rays, attached to the pelvic bone (80), representing the hind legs of higher animals, though all the bones of the limbs are not present. These fins are of little if any use as swimming organs, but the fish rests upon them when on the bottom, and they are balancers, aiding, as do the others, in preserving the perfect equilibrium of the body while the fish poises. The angler who makes a diversified catch, as is often the case in Florida, will be highly edified by a comparison of these fins in the different fishes, suggestive of their habits and game qualities. We have taken a superficial glance at the framework of the game fish. It is a marvellous machine, built, framed, fitted, joined, provided with paddles and screws to give it speed, endurance, resisting power ; in a word, perfectly adapted by nature to its environment. Now to look at its internal economy, not thoroughly, as textbooks are at hand, but merely to afford the angler between strikes a general idea of how his game eats, breathes, and makes so determined and gallant a fight. A section of the fish is shown in Fig. 2. Lifting the gill-covers (47) near where the fish should be gaffed, we see the gills, blood-red membraneous leaflets supported by cartilaginous arches, separated by slits. These are situated in branchial chambers or breathing rooms on each side of the head, and are the lungs or breathing organs of the fishes, though in some forms the air-bladder assumes this function when the fish leaves the water. The fish obtains its oxygen at second hand, using minute particles of air which are held in the water. Storms and winds raise a sea which forces air-bubbles down below the surface, aérating the water in sufficient quantities to support life. To demonstrate this it is but necessary to place a fish in an aquarium and allow the water to run in from below; the fish in a short time languishes and rises to the surface and dies. Introduce the water from above, imitating the action of a wave so that it falls upon the surface with force, carrying down air, which is seen permeating

SECTION OF A FISH the water in a cloud of minute bubbles, and the fish is immediately at ease. The deep-sea forms obtain the limited oxygen which they need from slow-moving currents which sweep along the bottom of the ocean at the greatest depths, passing from the surface to the abysmal regions laden with oxygen. The gills are permeated with blood-vessels, which give them their rich color, and their office is to take oxygen from the water, the operation being as follows. Watching a fish in confinement, a continued movement of the mouth and gills is observed, an endless opening and shutting ; indeed, the fish’s mouth is never closed. It is taking in water which passes over the gills, bathing them in an endless stream. As it passes, the gills take up the oxygen contained in the fluid ; this is absorbed by the blood, which is being pumped by the heart to the gills for this purpose, as blood in man is pumped to the lungs to receive the oxygen taken in at the nostrils. The water so used is thrown out at the gill openings by the depression of the operculum, or door, or cover of the gill chamber. The passage of blood through man is rapid, and he is warm-blooded; in fishes it moves very slowly, and the temperature of the blood is lower than that of the surrounding medium; hence the fishes are said to be cold-blooded. But in the tuna, bonito, and others the movements are so energetic that the temperature is higher than that of the water. When a fish is taken out of the water; it gasps and opens its gills, and doubtless is killed in part by too much oxygen, the reverse of the drowning process.

The digestive organs of fishes are simple. The prey is not chewed, the teeth being intended to hold the victim, which is swallowed entire at one or two gulps, though the tuna often crushes its prey. Food is quickly digested, and the capacity of some fishes, as the tuna, bluefish, and others, is remarkable. The mouth and teeth are modified or adapted to the requirements of the fishes. Those which live on oysters, as the sheepshead, have crushing organs. The shark, not a true fish, cuts its food or tears it. The fish is enabled to hold its position at various levels without effort by the aid of its air or swimming bladder (vz), possessed by most individuals. This is a silvery air sac or balloon lying directly beneath the vertebra, longer or shorter according to species, absent in some. It contains gas, principally nitrogen, and by it the fish is enabled to retain a certain specific gravity.

The brain of the fish is very small, and the latter has limited intelligence. Its powers of smell are fairly well developed, and the hearing is more or less acute; the organs of hearing being small cavities on each side of the head, containing a liquid in which float two ear-stones or otoliths. In some fishes, as the California “groupers,” the stones are an inch in length, pearl tinted and flinty, — attractive objects in demand as “headstones” and “good luck stones.”

The fish is enveloped in scales, which in the game fishes described overlap each other like shingles. They grow out of the little pockets in the -skin and are moistened or lubricated by a secretion or slime, always noticed in a fish, which exudes beneath them, and particularly along the median line, an undulating line extending from the head to the base of the tail. The game fishes mentioned in this volume all increase by depositing eggs or spawn, the eggs— minute spherical objects — often forming enormous masses. The caviare of commerce is the roe of the sturgeon. The number of eggs is inconceivable. In the cod it is estimated at five millions. This is a wise provision of nature, as fishes feed upon their own kind. Sardines, herrings, and many birds devour spawn, and out of every million eggs deposited, a very small percentage, certainly not ten, attain the adult stage. There are great concerted movements at the spawning period. Some fishes pair. The female, as a rule, pays no attention to the eggs or young, and in nearly all instances where nests are constructed, as in the case of the stickleback, the sunfish, Semod¢zlus, lamprey, and many more, it is the male which builds the nest. The Acard carries the eggs and later the young in its mouth,

The spawn is deposited in the open sea, in the case of the tuna, albacore, bonito, and other pelagic fishes; at the surface in bays, as in the case of the flying-fish. Some fishes, as certain California sculpins, attach eggs in great clusters to rocks; others again, as the rock-bass, form a simple nest, while others, as the salmon, deposit the eggs on sandy or gravelly bottom; some, as the blackfish, among weeds or grass. Over the eggs the male distributes the milt which impregnates them, and in a greater or less time the young appear, immediately becoming the prey to a thousand enemies. Some fishes possess the schooling instinct, as the herring, sardine, California barracuda, mullet, and others; the ma-

The Structure of Game Fishes II jority separate. Many young of pelagic fishes attach themselves to large jellyfishes; others to the physalia, and some adults enter the intestinal tube of holothurians.

There are two other methods of reproduction among fishes and the fishlike animals. In some, as the surf-fishes and certain sharks, the young are born alive. The young of twenty or thirty or more surf-fishes school and swim together. Other fishes are ovoviviparous, the eggs being retained in the body until the young are hatched.

In the vast concourse of fishes of the world every possible habit is seen. Originally all were doubtless salt-water forms, but they have entered rivers and streams, and in time have become adapted to their environment. Some fishes, like the salmon, enter fresh water to spawn. Others, like the eel, seem to reverse this. Certain fishes hibernate when water disappears. Others cross overland to reach water, while the strange periophthalmus and another genus leave the water and wander along the shore in search of food.

The fishes are found at various depths of the ocean, some at a depth of several miles being blind. Those living in these abysmal regions are adapted by nature to the peculiar conditions. The pressure where they live is sufficient to powder glass; at the surface it is fifteen pounds per square inch, but increases rapidly, so that at a mile below the surface it is almost beyond comprehension.

To overcome this the skeleton of deep-sea forms is cavernous, porous, and the water appears to circulate through them as through a sponge, and although fierce and carnivorous creatures, they are so fragile out of water that when taken from the nets they almost drop in pieces. The most remarkable feature of these fishes and many surface forms is their phosphorescence, many having illuminating organs —torches —of one or more colors, which constitute a part of the illumination of the deep sea, and serve possibly as a signal language by which the sexes are attracted, or predaceous forms lure their prey. I have seen a tuna come up at night, having a train of light several feet in length, but this was due to the luminous animals in the water—the peridinium, salpa, and others.

The game fishes available to the rod fisherman constitute a small proportion of the fishes, due to the fact that many are deep-water forms, or so essentially pelagic, like the dolphin—a splendid game fish—that it is beyond the reach of the angler who cannot spend his time in the forechains of some ship. This is exemplified by the statement that nearly all the available large oceanic game fishes of America, except the striped bass, are included in this volume; but as each is a game fish of several sizes, in the course of its career the angler finds endless variety. He can begin with a fly-rod on a two-pound bluefish, and will need his stiff rod on the adult. There are in California and Florida an infinite variety of small fishes, usually neglected, which, if approached with a rod, afford profitable sport.

Chapter II

“Tf I can but hold him.” — Izaak WALTON.

THERE is an element of chance in sea-angling found in no other sport. I remember that my old boatman on the St. Lawrence knew every rock and shoal in a thirty-mile row around Grenadier Island and would often indicate a strike in advance. So with trout-fishing, every frequenter of certain streams has the picture of favorite pools photographed on his memory. With the sea-angler the reverse holds. He “grasps the skirt of happy chance” and boldly sails out upon the unknown sea of Fortunatus without pointer or tip, with absolutely nothing except his inherent luck, upon which he stakes his all on this happy day.

The sea-angler is often superstitious. He has his whims and fancies. He assumes that a lost fish tells its companions; that it is worse than useless to fish on the ebb tide, and doubts not that certain people, usually poor gaffers, literally hoodoo the sport. Of all things, he is a believer in signs and omens and especially in luck. A strange fetich, this luck, which every angler woos with more or less success. ‘“ What luck?” shouts a friend from a passing boat; and if you have bagged your game, it is, “ Joe, hold it up.” And Joe holds forth a sixty-pounder, displaying every angle, that the iron may enter the heart of the rival boatman in the other craft, who has not gaffed even a gudgeon that day. But if there is no luck, no sixty-pounder, the angler merely pretends not to hear, and his boatman raises his hands aloft, opening and closing his fingers in a mystic signal which can be interpreted from six to ten or anywhere along the line. Not St. Peter, but Ananias, is his patron saint. What is luck? I have fished for hours by the side of a friend, where rod and bait seemed identical, and either he or I caught all the fish and had all the strikes. The luck was all on one side.

I have seen a lady, fishing with two anglers whose fame had reached halfway around the world, catch all the fish, five splendid white sea-bass, all over fifty pounds, despite the fact that she had never held a rod before. She used the same tackle, the same bait. Her ungallant companions changed the rod, insisted upon exchanging seats, but they failed to change her luck. From the time Deucalion

“ Did first the art invent Of angling, and his people taught the same,”

the uncertainty of fisherman’s luck has been proverbial; but perhaps this ephemeral luck, so potent to make or unmake a fishing day, has more in it than appears on the surface. You as well as I have perhaps often noticed that the lucky fisherman is a person of method. If a fisherman becomes possessed with the idea that a two-dollar reel is as potent to take tarpon and tuna as one costing fifteen or twenty dollars, that man is more than likely to attain a reputation as having poor luck. The man who never changes the line from the lower to the upper guides, who uses a line one hundred times, who has a theory that the ebb tide and the afternoon are best for fishing, is more than likely to be unlucky. This old man of the sea, “hard luck,” will surely fasten upon such an one. You perhaps have observed that the angler who soon becomes weary of the constant waiting that is sometimes the feature of the day’s luck, and thrusts his rod beneath his knee to read or drop asleep, is always a victim to poor luck, as by some occult eighth or ninth sense the fish invariably selects this exact moment to strike the bait, and it is always the largest fish which have this artful discernment. This is so infallible a rule, so well known among sea-anglers, that I have often changed my luck and forced a record fish to bite by merely dropping my rod into the oarlock, pretending to be engaged in some minor distraction. The moment I was thoroughly involved, my face deep in the folds of a coat, hoping to form a conjunction between cigar and match, the fish would strike; but it was a subterfuge, and before the fish had taken ten feet of line, I was ready for the play. I deduce from this that good luck means good and careful equipment, a good gaffer and boatman, good reels, lines, hooks, and the right kind of bait all the time; in a word, the application to fishing of the same rules which make one famous or successful in any phase of life.

It is worth crossing the continent in June from New York to Avalon to sit on the veranda of the hotels and listen to the tuna anglers, at the

Cc end of an exciting day, explain why and how the fish got away. It is always ascribed to bad luck. One man played his fish three hours, when his heart gave out on account of a recent attack of grippe. The handle of a cheap reel came off. Ananias, the veteran gaffer, who perchance had never gaffed before, forgot to change the worn line. Another angler caught his line about a button at the end of four hours; and so on. Anglers “smiling at grief,” yet heaping agony upon the back of patient luck which brings them all their joys.

I esteem myself a lucky fisherman because of one catch, a white sea-bass which I took one rosy morning at Santa Catalina with very light tackle and in very good company. It came about, as such things do, unexpectedly. We were lying on the sands of a little cove under the shadow of a ridge of Mount Black Jack; the launch was anchored near shore, the boat hauled up on the beach. The little bay was, that rare thing at this island, shallow, the bottom sinking gradually away five, ten, fifteen feet, until sixty or seventy feet from the shore it dropped into the channel. The water was as clear as crystal, the surface as smooth as a disk of steel. Not a breath came from the high rocky ridge, and all nature seemed asleep. As my eyes rested on the picture, an ideal place to play a fish, the unexpected happened. Two, three, four, five fins came into view from behind a rocky point just as I had been figuring them, as though some one had given the cue and the finny actors had stepped out from the wings on to the scene, a tragedy in one act. They moved along with great deliberation, the big dorsals waving gently and the tips of the caudal far astern, so that it was an easy matter to construct the entire hidden fish. It was a school of white sea-bass, apparently none of which was under fifty pounds. On they came, not twenty feet from the beach, and, as I rose, their bulky forms were sharply outlined against the dark olive-hued bottom.

My rod and line, baited with flying-fish, was lying in the small boat — note this premonition of coming fisherman’s luck. It took but a moment to grasp it, and so deft and agile was the boatman that my bait, as he pulled offshore, crossed the school, dazzling the very eyes of the dignified strollers along this fishes’ rialto. One at least resented the intrusion. There was a swirl of waters, a boiling seething as the school awoke to the fact that one had fisherman’s luck; then followed a brief pause; to swallow a flying-fish one foot in length, is not accomplished at once; and I could see the monster poising, swallowing with convulsive gulp; then feeling the wire leader, it shot ahead, and for an instant I gave the butt to one of the finest white sea-bass that ever swam, which when hooked, unreeled the line to a new music of the reel. There was no stopping this splendid rush, and with thumb trembling on the pad, the tip bending to the danger point, the boatman backing with one oar, pulling with all his power on the other, to whirl the boat around, my companion breathing advice and caution in low. tones, the reel swearing, praying, protesting, ah! it was an exciting moment, one of those critical points in the life of an angler that comes but once and is gone. “If I can but hold him!” Walton whispered on a similar occasion. If! what a world of chance and possibility is tied up in that small word! If the line had only been newer; if the leader had not been rusty; if that knot had been cut out, or if you only had taken a gaffer who did not lose his head, —each and any of these “ifs” might have reversed this day of happy memory.