Like most Chesapeake Bay fishermen, my passion for fishing comes with a cost. I’m not speaking of tangibles like the money we put into gasoline, fishing lures, or repairing broken rods. That’s to be expected. The cost for the Chesapeake angler is worrying that the fish we love to catch may soon disappear.  This week the Maryland Department of Natural Resources released its annual Young of the Year (YOY) Index. It’s an assessment of how many baby striped bass were produced the previous spring. This is the third year in a row that there has been less than normal reproduction. Marine biologists tell us there are a lot of reasons why the big fish aren’t making enough little fish.  There are too many to list but it all boils down to one thing – uncertainty.  We just don’t know what’s going on with our rockfish.  The only thing we know for certain is that there will be a lot fewer fish for us to catch. Read More!

Fall is coming fast to the Chesapeake region bringing changing patterns in fish behavior.  This is the time when resident Bay rockfish move shallow and start feeding heavily in order to put on winter weight.  While there are still active fish in the open waters over the oyster bars and around the mid-Bay islands, the real fun is close in to the shore; so close in fact that you really don’t need a boat.  A kayak or even waders are more appropriate this time of year, the only challenge being access to the best fishing spots.  It’s tough to get most center console style fishing boats in tight enough to shore. Many light tackle anglers compromise by going with a bay style boat.  That’s a good idea, but since I also fish the big water in the worst of the winter, I prefer a larger ride with a steeper deadrise.  Due to the savvy design skills of Eastern Shore boat builder Bill Judge, I feel like I have the best of both worlds.  Thunder Road, my 2010 Judge 27 CC only draws about 16 inches.   I’ve put all 16 to use and then some over the past couple of weeks while working the grass beds of Talbot and Dorchester counties.  Check out the video below and you’ll see what I mean. Read More!

I admit it, I dread the opening day of rockfish kill season like a vampire dreads a tossed salad.  In my book, it’s the beginning of the end of good fishing on the Chesapeake Bay.  With one stroke of the clock our tranquil miles of open-Bay solitude are overrun by frantic hoards of  frenzied fishermen.   The meat fleet is out in force on boats bristling with rods the size of rake handles and dozens of lines spread out hundreds of feet using planer board rigs.  Lost somewhere in the melee is the concept of one-man-one-rod sportsmanship. To make matters worse, the Department of Natural Resources sets the opening of the kill season while there are still pre-spawn fish in the Bay.  Big cows are routinely killed before they have a chance to spread the millions of eggs they are carrying. Maryland, we are sucking the life-blood out of the sport we love by killing our spawning fish. Read More!

Gone are the fair-weather boaters with their blaring radios and boats bristling with broomsticks.  No more planer-board trollers claiming 300 foot right-of- ways, or obnoxious broadcasters insulting everyone with a VHF radio within 50 miles.  Catch & release season is the time of year when the one-man-one-rod concept reigns supreme.  It’s when you can run on-plane for miles in the wide-open Bay and never see another fishing boat.  A time when there’s very little competition for prime fishing spots, and a small but tight fraternity of hard-core fishermen brave the elements to jig the cold-weather hotspots.  I anticipate the start of C&R season like a kid waits for Christmas.

My sons Jacob and Daniel are visiting from Tennessee this week.  We’ve been trying to work a fishing trip into our schedule, but we couldn’t get it all together until today.  Read More!

Like most anglers, I love to eat fish.  One of my favorite family traditions is fish for breakfast.  Occasionally when we have guests visiting, the fishermen in the house get up before everyone else and spend the daybreak hours on the water.  If things go as planned, we’re back before the house starts to stir, preparing a delicious breakfast of eggs, grits, fresh tomatoes, homemade biscuits, and freshly caught fish.  That being said, I don’t keep most of the fish I catch.  By letting them go, I get the same satisfaction out of my fishing experiences while contributing to the sustainability of the sport I love.

The inclination toward releasing fish is fairly modern.  Some Native American tribes believe that it is wrong to release a fish.  According to their culture, the fish allows itself to be caught.  It chooses to sacrifice its life to provide food for the angler.  To release any part of it back into the water would dishonor the fish and result in poor fishing the following year.  These beliefs were formed at a time when they speared, netted, trapped, or caught their fish with hand-made equipment, perseverance, and a little benevolence from the Great Spirit. Read More!