HammerII2008
New Member
For years the rumors of illegal traps and wholesale harvest of a small creek running through the heart of Upper Marlboro have filtered through a grapevine of fishermen in the area. Time and time again I would nod in understanding as a angler with their child or grand child in tow would tell me of the great past runs of white perch and how they had caught some of their first fish here under the guidance of a father or grandfather and now the fish were gone. It wasn’t a slow decline or the slow dying death of a waterway it was if a switch had been hit and what at one time helped introduce the next generation of anglers to the sport was now gone. In their eyes I could see the flash of anger as they mentioned hearing from a friend of a friend that these fish were being taken and sold in back alleys and trailer parks and what couldn’t be sold often dumped on the side of the road like yesterdays trash. These story tellers weren’t part of the flashy crowd one can see at the ramp on the opening day of rockfish, these are folks who are trying to raise kids making minimum wage while introducing them to the sport at small places through out the state were locations are limited for shore bound anglers.
While the stories you hear began to blend together with the same details of fish being taken and sold it was the kids standing around that always caught my attention. These small children standing by their father or grandfather clutching a new or hand me down fishing pole with their beaming smiling faces are going to be inheriting our natural resources, and they were being robbed. What fishing stories will they tell their children or will these children even think about introducing their kids to the sport of angling? How do you explain to a small child after hearing tales from dad or grand paw of days where 100’s flocked to these small streams and creeks with their neighbors and friends that what should be a public resource is being sold to the highest bidder to line one persons pocket?
Because what we’re talking about is a sort of wholesale fish genocide. This isn’t the faceless crime we’re being lead to believe with stories of a poor soul just trying to feed his family. This isn’t an immigrant who doesn’t understand our laws or is looking for a cheap meal. It’s a willful, carefully thought out rape of what not only belongs to you and me but to the future generations of anglers. These traps and nets placed down stream from historic fishing locations in strategic locations and choke points are done with the sole intent not to feed a family or give to friends but to convert to cash. This is theft.
These were the thoughts that started me almost 8 years ago on a small little creek flowing through an urban area in Southern Prince Georges County miles from home looking for these nets and traps. Along the years I learned much carrying a rod walking these banks but could never find the prize. Still the chance meeting with other anglers in the spring was always the same about how suddenly the first runs of spawning fish would like flicking a switch stop and disappear and of course the rumors continued of these fish showing up in neighborhoods being sold under the table. After awhile it became a sort of joke that the rumors were like reports of UFO’s and Bigfoot. Lots of rumors about what might be and where but in the end nothing but myths and mist, no actual proof to hold up to the world. This year as spring started I met a new friend who I had seen every year at one of the fishing holes. I walked over and spent sometime talking to him this spring, about the weather and as the talked turned to fishing I noticed his rod still rigged sitting beside him on the bank. During our talk he told me he was raised right around the corner and had fished right at this very spot as a kid with his dad and uncles. Had caught his first fish here and had his first sip of beer right there on this very bank. When he had been drafted back in 69 and sent over seas it was this very bank that he returned to one night and while fishing made peace with himself. Now he said the kids were all grown and the grandkids didn’t want to come with him to go fishing cause they never caught anything here. He was back that day to make peace with God as he was losing the fight to Agent Orange and this season was going to be his last. He smiled as he told me the fish are gone he was hoping for just another run but decided just to set and enjoy the water. He didn’t really know anymore about nets or traps except what’s a man going to do against the system and that nobody cared they only talked about caring. I told him about looking for nets and traps and he wished me luck I pushed on down stream looking for signs of nets and traps. I decided then to keep looking
It was more then a month later and miles down stream as I was walking the bank while fishing this stretch of creek that I decided it was a barren wasteland with out fish. All the right signs were there as frogs jumped into the creek to hide as I walked its banks, small pools held tadpoles and schools of tiny minnows could sometimes be seen as I walked and searched for fish and traps. I saw signs of Blue Herrings and spotted a few wood ducks while seeing signs of deer and where raccoons had washed their food at the creeks edge. Every now and again I could see the white of a freshwater clamshell against the bottom but still no fish. It was then I noticed them. Three guys walking in carrying a white drywall bucket with no fishing rods that was the dumb luck break I had been waiting eight years for. I watched as they removed a mixed bag of fish mostly white perch filling to a third heavy green trash bags before resetting. I’m not going to go into more details here but to say that I could have looked for another eight years and never found the traps. These traps weren’t some tossed together rape rigs either. These were crafted with care, as some craftsman took pride and time putting these together. Metal welded rebar frames with heavy wire fastened with hog rings and welded metal legs to support the trap from river currents added up to deadly efficient trap.
After slowly making my way back to the truck I called DNR and set up to meet them there early the next morning. Even knowing the exact location it still took us 30 minutes to find the set up again which DNR removed. So maybe there’s hope for this creek, maybe it can still provide fulfillment to anglers today and still help inspire the next generations of anglers.
While the stories you hear began to blend together with the same details of fish being taken and sold it was the kids standing around that always caught my attention. These small children standing by their father or grandfather clutching a new or hand me down fishing pole with their beaming smiling faces are going to be inheriting our natural resources, and they were being robbed. What fishing stories will they tell their children or will these children even think about introducing their kids to the sport of angling? How do you explain to a small child after hearing tales from dad or grand paw of days where 100’s flocked to these small streams and creeks with their neighbors and friends that what should be a public resource is being sold to the highest bidder to line one persons pocket?
Because what we’re talking about is a sort of wholesale fish genocide. This isn’t the faceless crime we’re being lead to believe with stories of a poor soul just trying to feed his family. This isn’t an immigrant who doesn’t understand our laws or is looking for a cheap meal. It’s a willful, carefully thought out rape of what not only belongs to you and me but to the future generations of anglers. These traps and nets placed down stream from historic fishing locations in strategic locations and choke points are done with the sole intent not to feed a family or give to friends but to convert to cash. This is theft.
These were the thoughts that started me almost 8 years ago on a small little creek flowing through an urban area in Southern Prince Georges County miles from home looking for these nets and traps. Along the years I learned much carrying a rod walking these banks but could never find the prize. Still the chance meeting with other anglers in the spring was always the same about how suddenly the first runs of spawning fish would like flicking a switch stop and disappear and of course the rumors continued of these fish showing up in neighborhoods being sold under the table. After awhile it became a sort of joke that the rumors were like reports of UFO’s and Bigfoot. Lots of rumors about what might be and where but in the end nothing but myths and mist, no actual proof to hold up to the world. This year as spring started I met a new friend who I had seen every year at one of the fishing holes. I walked over and spent sometime talking to him this spring, about the weather and as the talked turned to fishing I noticed his rod still rigged sitting beside him on the bank. During our talk he told me he was raised right around the corner and had fished right at this very spot as a kid with his dad and uncles. Had caught his first fish here and had his first sip of beer right there on this very bank. When he had been drafted back in 69 and sent over seas it was this very bank that he returned to one night and while fishing made peace with himself. Now he said the kids were all grown and the grandkids didn’t want to come with him to go fishing cause they never caught anything here. He was back that day to make peace with God as he was losing the fight to Agent Orange and this season was going to be his last. He smiled as he told me the fish are gone he was hoping for just another run but decided just to set and enjoy the water. He didn’t really know anymore about nets or traps except what’s a man going to do against the system and that nobody cared they only talked about caring. I told him about looking for nets and traps and he wished me luck I pushed on down stream looking for signs of nets and traps. I decided then to keep looking
It was more then a month later and miles down stream as I was walking the bank while fishing this stretch of creek that I decided it was a barren wasteland with out fish. All the right signs were there as frogs jumped into the creek to hide as I walked its banks, small pools held tadpoles and schools of tiny minnows could sometimes be seen as I walked and searched for fish and traps. I saw signs of Blue Herrings and spotted a few wood ducks while seeing signs of deer and where raccoons had washed their food at the creeks edge. Every now and again I could see the white of a freshwater clamshell against the bottom but still no fish. It was then I noticed them. Three guys walking in carrying a white drywall bucket with no fishing rods that was the dumb luck break I had been waiting eight years for. I watched as they removed a mixed bag of fish mostly white perch filling to a third heavy green trash bags before resetting. I’m not going to go into more details here but to say that I could have looked for another eight years and never found the traps. These traps weren’t some tossed together rape rigs either. These were crafted with care, as some craftsman took pride and time putting these together. Metal welded rebar frames with heavy wire fastened with hog rings and welded metal legs to support the trap from river currents added up to deadly efficient trap.
After slowly making my way back to the truck I called DNR and set up to meet them there early the next morning. Even knowing the exact location it still took us 30 minutes to find the set up again which DNR removed. So maybe there’s hope for this creek, maybe it can still provide fulfillment to anglers today and still help inspire the next generations of anglers.
