The Clams Are Biting........The Fishing Report

  Every now and again, I used to get a call from my elderly uncle who had moved from Mississippi to Missouri.  He wanted to "check the fishing reports".  Uncle Alfred used to live just one house over from the Little Bayou House and loved to go fishing.  He and my Aunt Marie fished just about their entire lives and the love of the water lived on with him even though he moved away after she died.  Before he passed away, he and I would chat on the phone about fishing and his dream of coming back to the Bayou "just one more time".  While he knew the trip was not reasonable at his age of almost 100 but we "dreamed" and made plans, all the same.  The fishing report was about whatever was in the Bay at the time.  It did not matter if I told him about menhaden, redfish or otters.  He loved every minute of the report.  I loved every minute of sharing with him and I miss his calls terribly now.

  The fishing report of the day sort of goes like this.  I caught a nice sized fishing line complete with sinkers and hook!  I was slow-dragging my bait along bottom thinking I may pick up a flounder but hooked into the old line. It was a good pull!  At this point, Uncle Alfred would have made a joke and asked how long I thought the line had been snagged there before I caught it.  We would banter back and forth for a bit before I moved on with the next bit of the report.  Also, the clams are biting really good now!  Mark caught a nice, heavy one up near the shoreline this morning.  He was hoping to catch a redfish that was running the marsh but the clam bit first.  We decided to let it go, however, since we only had the one.  Again, Uncle Alfred would have had some quip about the clam and probably have related a tale of going clamming during his younger days.  The rest of the fishing report would have been filled with tidbits of news about the number of schools of menhaden, recent catches of shrimp and how many crab pots we have at the end of the pier.  Once the report was complete, he and I would, once again, make those plans for his fishing trip.  That fishing trip was never made, at least, not physically.  He told me that he fished from our pier in his dreams and that made him happy.  Talking with him made me happy.

  The truth behind the above fishing report was that I did, indeed, hook and bring in an old line that had been snagged on a log.  Pulling it off was quite the job but I am glad it is no longer posing a danger to the sea life.  Mark did catch a clam on his line but not on the hook.  His sinker weights became wedged between the hinge of the clam shell allowing him to pull the large clam right up on the pier.  These tales would have delighted Uncle Alfred and made those dreams even more exciting.  Even though it has been several years since he passed, I still think of our phone calls and reports.  I sure miss that man!

 

Clam Up About the Cold Weather!

  Ok, so this "ice age" has been lingering on just about long enough now.  It is time for it to move back to the Arctic where it belongs.  The Deep South has better things to do than slip and slide on thin sheets of ice and bundle up against these bone-chilling temperatures!  Four hundred years of this is overdoing it a bit.  Ok, ok....so it has only been four days but we Southerners are ill-equipped for any temperatures below 30 degrees.  Anything lower and we go into a state of shock.  I mean, come on now, our flipflops and t-shirts are gathering mold from lack of use here.  To tell the truth, most of us do not own an actual coat so a hoodie has to suffice.  Our shoe racks contain no boots other than an occasional pair of "shrimp" boots which are basically white rubber rain boots.  They are designed to keep the feet dry and cool but not protect against cold.  A lot of us do not even have central heating systems as they are not needed during most winters.  Right about now, I almost wish we did as it is a tad cold going out at daybreak to fetch another armload of firewood.  

 The good folks of the Deep South are not the only ones feeling the cold this year.  From our vantage point of the pier, Mark and I noticed that a good many clams were exposed by the low tides.  While this is not an unusual occurrence with the extreme low tides each winter, the position of the clams was troubling.  Most of the shells were opened.  During most low tides when there are mudflats for long stretches, the clams stay tightly closed to protect themselves.  Being exposed to predators is bad enough but throw in that frigid air and things get a mite iffy for the clams. Clams cannot really take to deeper, warmer water like fish and crustaceans.  They sit steadfast in the mud and hope for the best.  Tightly closed, the clams can survive a good 24 or more hours of being out of the water.  They seal themselves into their own little "tide pool" inside the shell and wait for the tide to roll in again.  But...no water and temperatures in the 20s for four days is enough to kill the clams in spite of their best efforts.

  While the death of the clams is saddening, their demise has been a blessing to other critters.  Opening a clam is a tough task for any critter other than the otters but with the cold weather killing the clams and making them spontaneously open, birds and smaller critters are feasting! This is helping them make it through this dire situation. I guess there is a reason for everything.

Eye of the Bayou!

  Somewhere deep beneath the murky waters of the Bayou, I am sure that there are critters that make themselves scarce.  They do not want to be found.  They want to live their lives in peace without the fuss and ado that folks tend to give things that are a tad unusual.  "It is giant!  Haul it ashore and kill it just so we can say we found it!"  This seems to be the mentality of a lot of folks.  Not me.  While I will be the first to keep a fish if needed for food, I refuse to kill critters just for the sake of killing it and satisfying some innate lust to be "king" (or queen) of all around me.  Nope.  I go by a mantra of live and let live.  Life is better that way.

  A couple of days ago, I spied what appeared to be a large "eye" staring up at me from beneath the shallows.  Alrighty then.  That would be an awful large eye for any critter small enough to be in about a foot of water.  I took several picture of the thing with and without the flash.  I was in hopes that whatever it was could be readily identified through the pictures.  Then an idea hit me! Perhaps whatever was glaring at me with its one eye was buried deep beneath the soft mud.  Things have been known to completely disappear in the almost quicksand like muck of the Bayou!  Pop accidentally dropped an outboard motor over the side of the boat (when he was in his 70's) and it was never found. That thing slipped out of sight and went down so far that we could never find it no matter how we prodded with poles.  Anyway, back to my  one-eyed critter.  With an eye of nigh on three inches across, the critter had to be huge!  I figured that perhaps it would not mind being nudged a bit to encourage it to move.  If it moved, maybe I could see it better and be able to identify my unknown (yet to be met) friend.  

  Mark eased the boat hook toward the "eye".  Nothing.  That critter had to be brave!  Closer...closer.  Nothing.  Not even the slightest wiggle. Hmmm...Then Mark actually touched the edge of the "eye".  Egad!  The whole thing swirled about in a sand storm of muck!  My "eye" was not an eyeball at all!  Obviously, a large clam was buried deep beneath the mud and was "squirting" water up to the surface as it fed.  Clams take in water and sediment and then "spit" out the water.  Any foodstuffs that remain are eaten and more water is taken in to repeat the process.  This clam was buried deep beneath the mud and as it "spit" the water surfaced and caused a ring around the "spit" hole.  Sediment and sand circled the hole causing the "eyeball" effect that I saw.  Pretty cool, huh? Spit on, Clam, spit on.  I will not dig you out of your home and kill you.  Keep making those "pretty eyes"!  

Home, Sweet Home...in the Mud

   The marsh around the Bayou is home to a myriad of critters.  You never know just what might be lurking among the reeds and in the mud so it is a wise thing not to go traipsing around in there.  Snapping turtles that can take off a finger in a single swipe, cottonmouths that sometimes can have a nasty temper and alligators who might just size you up as dinner are always a threat.  The other critters might latch on for a while but probably won't do near as much harm as the "Big Three".  Even the Bayou, itself, can be an entity to deal with if you are not careful.  One misstep can throw you in mud that can suck you in just as fast as quicksand.  That said, it is understandable that warnings are oft uttered..."Venture in and you mayn't come back out."

  I am fascinated by the critters in the marsh.  They are sometimes heard but rarely seen.  A lot of the birds are quite vocal but are shy.  Other critters just go about their daily (or nightly) routine without much fanfare.  Then, there are those that are pretty much stationary.  The mussels and clams take up a good bit of the space between the roots of the marsh grass.  Their presence helps to stabilize the entire area. Without these mollusks, the marsh roots would soon wash out and the area would erode.  

  It amazes me how the clams can literally bury themselves.  For something so seemingly motionless, these things can get around pretty well even while toting that heavy shell.  Clams bury themselves as protection from other critters.  Sometimes this works but the wily otters and nosy raccoons can sniff out the clams even under the mud.  

  Right next to the pier, a rather large clam has staked out its residence.  It has been there for nigh on a month.  Being as its shell is almost the size of my fist, it would make a tasty meal for any critter.  I keep watch thinking that any morning, I might find the empty shell but, as of yet, no predators have bothered it.  The clam seems to have chosen the right spot in the mud!

The Shell Game

  Mark and I were taking our morning hike when, as usual, we wound up on the pier.  The north wind had pushed the water out of the Bay leaving a good stretch of mudflats behind.  Even though this is bad for fishing, I still like the looks of the Bay when the tide is extremely low.  It allows me to see what is hidden under all of that murky water during higher tides.  This morning, I checked out the driftwood pieces that were full of barnacles, tin cans tossed out by non-thinking folks and shells left by the otters.  Under the pier were a number of clam shells that had already been raided by the otters.  Those critters are adept at opening the shells and making dinner of the fat clams.   Using the boat hook,  I fished out one unusually large clam shell. This one was still hinged and quite lovely actually.  After examining the shell, I decided to photograph it before returning it to the water.

  Although the clam shell had been robbed of its original occupant, it was still not empty.  A host of Olive Nerites decided to move in and call it home.  These snails have a tendency to cling to just about anything that stays in the water for a few minutes.  They are the algae eaters of the Bayou!  Six nice size snails had formed a community in the vacant shell.  I thought of how strange it was that now the snails were "double-shelled".  Then another bit of weirdness came to view.  Not only were the snails claiming the clam shell but a barnacle was along for the ride. On the back of one of the Nerites, a barnacle had attached itself.  Now that was funny!  In one empty clam shell we have six Olive Nerites and one barnacle.  What a happy home!  And what a great repurposing trick!

  After photographing the shell game, I carefully returned the whole kit and kaboodle to the water.  These guys could remain in their new-found home.  Have fun little snails....errr....and little barnacle!

Oh, Clam Up!

  Since it is now a nightly adventure to be on the pier shrimping, my tales will lean toward the denizens of the Bay.  Usually, I will see some sort of critter that spikes an interest or perhaps catch a really weird fish that causes a bit of wonderment.  The Bayou and its inhabitants never cease to intrigue me.  Not only are the critters that live in the Bay of interest but those whose lives depend on the water can fully amuse me. 

  While on the pier waiting for the shrimp to "come in", I fish.  Most of the time, I will catch some fish to have for supper although I do catch a number of catfish or "trash" fish.  These are either used for crab bait or returned to the water.  This evening, I caught something highly unexpected.  It was not anything that I have ever caught before nor anything that I have ever heard of anyone else catching with a rod and reel.  

  The Bay was beautiful.  There was a slight breeze coming from the north and a few wispy clouds drifted about the sky.  Since I had about a half hour before starting my shrimping, I decided to try my hand at fishing.  A fish had taken my hook the night before and I had forgotten to bring a replacement.  The only one handy was an old, rusty on that was found on one of the pier posts. Oh, well.  It would just have to do.  I baited the hook, tossed the line and waited.  After just a few minutes, a wiggle on the line told me that something was interested in my dead shrimp.  Still, this was unlike any bite I had ever had before.  I eased back on the line and felt a tug.  Hmmm?  Perhaps this was a flounder?  I waited a bit longer then eased back a bit more.  Yep! Something was definitely hanging on the hook.  Perhaps a crab?  I eased again.  Still there.  So I decided to wind the reel a bit and see what happened.  Nothing.  The line did not take off in a mad rush like most fish.  It did not wiggle and jiggle like a crab frantically trying to get the bait off the hook before I pulled it up on the pier.  Instead, whatever this was, it just held on tight.  Maybe a stick?  I reeled the line in and pulled it up on the pier.

   Wow!  I had caught a......I actually hooked a.......on the end of my line was a.....a clam!  Sure enough, a large clam had my shrimp!  As I pulled the clam up on the pier, it slowly closed and tightened down on my hook!  Oh, geez!  I had never seen something like this before!  Now how in the world was I supposed to unhook that thing?  I picked up the shell and looked at it closely.  There was not a whole lot of leeway to get my hook out from between the two sides of the shell. I really did not want to pry around too much so to injure the clam inside but I really wanted my hook.  Hmmm?  Idea!  I gently laid the clam (with the hook still inside) into the bait bucket.  I figured that maybe the clam would open on its own if it was back in the water. Sure enough about ten minutes later, the clam opened its shell just a bit and out came my hook...minus the shrimp!  

  Now I seriously doubt that the clam ate my shrimp just as I seriously doubt that the thing actually "bit" my hook.  Most likely some pinfish was nibbling on the bait and when I pulled the line, the hook dragged over the open clam.  If the hook irritated the clam at all, it probably instinctively closed and the hook was snagged.  It was all by accident that I was able to reel in the bivalve.  Still, it does indeed make a grand fish tale!  I CAUGHT A CLAM!

The Sea Claims its Own.

This morning as I was on the pier, I noticed a clam shell had been left there.  How or why this shell was deposited on the pier is beyond me but it was there in all its glory.  The shell was not there just yesterday evening so I assume some critter left me this gift!  Anyway, I started studying that shell.  It was obviously one that had been emptied of its mollusk some time ago.  Around the edges, barnacles had already attached themselves and were doing rather well although they were still small.  These critters have a habit of making themselves right at home on any object that stays in the water long.  It then occurred to me that in the sea, if something stays long, it becomes part of the sea.  Yes, this shell originated there but it was void of its living being and had been cast aside.  After just a bit, it became part of sea life again.  Once it housed a clam.  Now it gives stability to the barnacles. Along side the pier, several old posts are the site of an entire community of assorted critters.  These posts are literally covered with shells.   The sea has a way of claiming what is there.

All of this started me thinking about how many things must be part of the Bay and Bayou.  Things that were not intentionally there to start.  Think of how many man-made items must be down under that water, in the marsh or embedded in the soft mud. With every hurricane that has ever passed through this area, tons of items were washed from their land-based beginnings and launched into a new life under the water.  There, they would be covered with barnacles and other shellfish.  Perhaps deep under the mud, things from hundreds of years ago wait to be discovered once again.

That is the way of life here.  Not that folks are dumping tons of stuff into the Bay and Bayou but Mother Nature does occasionally with the storms.  We, humans, try to clear out as much as possible with annual "cleanups" but the sea claims its own and refurbishes what we cannot retrieve.  It makes use of the most unusual things!  This shell belonged to the sea..it still does.