Agust 12, 1999 - A slice of the 'good life'8A • The Suffolk Times • August 12, 1999
A slice of the `good life'
Hot. Hot. Hot. It seemed in the
past week we couldn't get away from
it. In desperation Barbara and I de-
cided to take to the water. I had
heard reports of snapper blues run-
ning in the bay, so this gave us an
added incentive to move even
though the heat was stifling. We fi-
nally got the gear together and found
ourselves sweating by simply moving
about. I rummaged through my tack-
le box but found
FOCUS little in the way
of lures to
ON excite our quar-
ry. d I'd have to
do with an old
by Paul hand -me down
Stoutenburgh in the shape of a
fish with a sin-
gle hook dangling from it. We'd bring
along some old frozen squid just in
case we couldn't locate the blues. In
that case we'd try bottom fishing.
Anything in the pretense of getting
away from the heat.
Barbara can always be counted on
to pack a small cooler with goodies
just in case pangs of hunger or thirst
take over. And so with our simple
supplies and poles we were off. Down
at the dock there was a hint of relief
in the air. A breeze out of the south-
west told us that as the day pro-
gressed a reliable good sailing breeze
would spring up. That's one thing
about our summer weather you can
almost always count on, a good
southwest wind in the afternoon.
The old, worn "bimini" was up,
shading us from the relentless sun
a
CHIPPER
2-year-old male
shepherd mix.
"I'm a great pet and get
along with everybody"
KITTY
"I'm 5 weeks old and
would love to go
home with my Mom.
She's here too."
MJ
21/2- year -old male
terrier mix.
"I love to play ball and
play with my leash. 1
need to be an only
child. "
MAPLE
1 112- year -old femaleg�
terrier mix.
"I'm a great
fence jumper and
love attention."
NFAWL THRIFT SHOP
"A Cause for Paws"
Southold Animal Shelter
PECONIC LANE, PECONIC
765 -1811
North Fork Animal Welfare League
that was trying its best to break the
previous year's temperature record.
A twist of the outboard key on our
13 -foot Whaler and the motor
jumped into a roaring, smoky start.
The lines were cast off and we
cruised slowly out of the creek look-
ing more like the
African Queen
than anything else.
Our added motion
into the breeze told
us it was worth the
extra effort. The
beach at the mouth
of the creek was
loaded with kids
and grownups of
all sorts and
shapes. They, too,
were trying to get
away from the heat
as they sat at the
water's edge or
swam in the re-
freshing waters of
the bay.
$y now the bay
had an uncomfort-
able chop so in
order not to shake
ourselves about at
high speed we
leisurely headed across the bay. There
were sailboats, power boats of all sorts,
jet skis, kayaks, wind surfers — all tak-
ing advantage of the good life our East
End waters offer. We headed to where
my son said he had seen terns working
the day before. Terns are always a
good sign that fish are below.
After about a half an hour we left
most of the other boaters behind.
Our destination was a red can buoy
noted years ago for being alongside
the old kingfish hole. Sure enough
there were birds flying and diving. I
inched up the throttle and we
trolled through them, sometimes the
fish breaking water right alongside
our boat. Something must be wrong.
I'd have to change the lure. I'll try a
smaller shiny one. Perhaps the large
one was scaring them away.
Finally after much fumbling of
lines, lures and knots I was ready to
give it another try. Barbara in the
meantime was steering the boat to-
ward the school. Then the line went
out and we
started trolling
in earnest once
again. Round
and round we
went. Then a
hit. "I've got
one! Put the
boat in neu-
tral." Barbara
brought the
boat into the
wind while I
worked my fish
ever so careful-
ly as it tugged
and pulled, try-
ing to get away.
How such a
small fish can
put up such a
fight is hard to
reckon.
Slowly but
surely I brought
the fish in and
as I did it broke from its watery home
in an aerial dance and thrashed its
head back and forth like some giant
spring had let loose, all the time try-
ing to throw the hook free from its
mouth. Then it dropped back in the
water and started its mad dash to the
depths below. It bent my light pole
almost double as I reeled it in slowly
and it saw the boat. This gave it added
reason to,get away and my line zinged
out. Back it came as I reeled in; then I
could see its shape flashing in the
water. It was a mere 10 feet from the
boat. I played it ever so cautiously.
My pole end now literally bent down
into the water as the fish made its last
desperate dive below.
Now my side was winning and I
brought the thrashing, twisting, jaw -
snapping, silvery -green streamlined
body out of the water and over the
side of the boat,
landing it in the bot-
tom. It thrashed its
tail and head against
the boat. During this
time it spit out two
or three baby
bunkers about 1 1/2
inches long. So that's
what they were feed-
ing on. I wondered if they were the
same ones I'd written about last
week when I saw them in our creek,
milling in a school by the dock. Had
they left the protection of their shal-
low -water nursery to venture out
into the bay where the "tigers of the
bay" awaited them?
As our fishing progressed I lost two
more lures. Evidently these terrors
cut my line in their wild pursuit of
the flashing lure but we did manage
to land five. Sorry to say we must
have lost 10 or more. Two were right
alongside the boat and two were lost
when they leapt out of the water and
threw the hook. It was a glorious day
on the bay.
P.S. We tried our luck the next day
but there wasn't a sign of fish any-
where, so if you see birds working,
waste no time or they'll pass you by.
Suffolk Times photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
Snapper blues are roaming in the bay. If you are lucky to see them in their
feeding frenzy with birds working over them, you better get your poles out
for they don't usually stay around for a second chance.
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U MARINA'3�
3350 WEST CREEK AVENUE, CUTCHOGUE
located on Wkkhanz Creek
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• high octane gas
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We are pleaeed to welcome
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HOURS of OPERATION:
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bounced across the rough water to
where the action was. I put on the
big, shiny fish lure with its trailing
hook and sat anxiously awaiting our
goal ahead. The closer we came the
more birds we saw. Most were com-
mon terns along with the much small-
er least terns. How little the least
terns looked beside their big cousins
as they dove and called all about us.
These terns came from nearby
Robins Island that lies just to the
east of where we were fishing. This
island hosts one of the largest tern
colonies on both the North and
South forks. Here was truly a success
story. Years before terns tried to nest
on the island's sand spit but little was
done to protect them. Since Mr.
Bacon purchased the island strict
control and posting have provided
the needed protection and the
colony has exploded
to over 300 pairs of
nesting terns.
As we watched, an
osprey flew directly
over the colony
toward its nest on
the island. Its flight
path was right in line
with the slumbering
terns. As the osprey approached, an
alarm was given and almost en masse
the terns rose to meet the intruder.
Any hawk, no matter what size or
shape, is a threat, and so the call to
arms. For a brief period there was
what seemed uncontrolled bedlam as
the terns screamed and dove at the
osprey, driving him away. Once the
threat had passed the mass of white
flashing wings settled back to its
sandy beach, now in safety.
Now we could see fish breaking
just ahead. In their feeding frenzy
one or two literally jumped out of the
water occasionally in pursuit of the
bait fish they were after. Round and
round we trolled as the snapper blues
would disappear for a few minutes
only to surface in a new location to
the left or right or even sometimes in
back of us. Time and time again we