October 28, 1982 - Last Night for Firefighting�r
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October 28, 1982 9�r Aalf 01k, mitts Page 17,:
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Last Night for Firefighting
How about firelighting? The conditions
were just right; hardly any wind and a
fairly low tide. If we didn't get out now,
we'd have to wait until next year for all the
eels would be in the mud for the winter.
They, like the lowly dogfish and the blue
claw crab, bury themselves in the creek
muds while the winter winds howl and the
creeks freeze solidly above them.
We'd use the boat my son just finished
working on and I'd rig up a pulpit for the
two gas lights to hang from so we could
see. I just picked up a mud spear at a yard
sale and was anxious to try it out.
Basically, there are two kinds of eel
spears. The mud spear, which as the name
implies is used in the soft muddy areas of
our creeks, and the sand spear for the hard
bottoms. Both take a bit of technique to
use, but the mud spear is by far the more
difficult to use when firelighting.
It took a bit of effort to get the motor
started, but after some feverish yanks and
friendly persuasion we were on our way.
The hissing gas lights that hung from the
bow threw a yellowish -white light ahead of
the boat. In back of the reflected light, we
were in total darkness. We felt like some
special voyagers in a space ship as we
moved along in the night with nothing but
the water before us.
Soon we entered our creek, where we
moved slowly along the channel's edge. In
my younger days there were only bits and
pieces of what would be called a channel
and in most places you could wade from
one side to the other. We didn't have very
good luck here, though I did manage to
spear three or four eels with the sand spear
-- but we were anxious for more action.
Head for Wintering Grounds
Roger suggested we try at the head of
the creek, where you often see men
spearing eels through the ice during the
winter. His theory was that most had gone
in the mud by now and if any were about it
Wa4M[�G�
would be up there. His theory was right; no
sooner had we gotten in the shallows of the
headwaters of our creek than the action
started.
I'd given up by this time and had started
rowing because the motor couldn't be used
in the shallow waters we were now
working. For the first 10 minutes there
were the usual misses followed by youthful
phrases of disgust but as time went on the
mud spear technique improved to such a
point he was landing eels every other
throw. Once he actually got two at one
time. Things were really exciting now!
Eels were literally being flung into the
boat. There was no time to get them in the
bucket. As soon as one came in it wiggled
off the spear and slid away in the darkness
into the bottom of the boat. This is, by the
way, the reason only certain boats can be
used for eeling. No one wants eels
slithering around in the bottom of their
good boat. But this would all be washed out
later on when we got home.
It was an eerie world we paddled
through. Along the banks I could see
exposed muskrat holes and all along the
edges hung the tall thatch grass that makes
our creeks so productive. Occasionally
we'd hear the flapping of wings and the
calling of black ducks as they took off in
the dark before us. The night was still, cold
and damp. We could even see our breath
against the blackness around us.
Besides the eels, there were small fish
darting about which Roger tried to spear
and missed continually until again like the
beginning of his spearing his practice
improved and he brought one aboard. It
was a white perch, and before the evening
was over we would have enough for a
meal. They look somewhat like a porgy but
are not so deep bodied. They carry the
heavy scales and rigid spines that are
associated with the porgy.
As we slipped along through the water, I
wondered about the white perch that lay at
my feet. Few people realize these fish visit
our brackish waters. There are some
reports of them being caught along the
south shore, but I've hardly ever heard of
them being caught here on the north shore.
In some spots the tide was so low that the
sea lettuce or cabbage would get caught in
the oars as I tried to lift them out of the
water. No wonder the eels were so
numerous here. Everywhere there was a
hiding place. As the night wore on, the
lights around the creek went out as people
retired. Our gas lamps hissed on.
Good Night, Good Catch
The hour was getting late and we had
enough eels so that possibly we would be
able to smoke them, and again I
remembered my father saying, "Never
take more than you can use." We both
knew all too well what we had caught still
had to be cleaned when we got home. So we
headed back.
Soon we were pulling the boat up on the
trailer and in no time were back at the
house, where the floodlights revealed the
muddy boat and two bedraggled eelers.
We were both satisfied with our catch and
were glad we were able to get out that one
last time before the eels went in the mud.
They'd be fat now, for their white lining of
energy will have to carry them through a
long winter's sleep.
Perhaps thev'11 hear from us again later
in the winter when we will once more get
out our spears and go after them through
the ice. But now there still were hours of
work to be done before we could call it a
night. PAUL STOUTENBURGH
YE OLD SMOKE HOUSE - -Smoke
drifts upward from this old smoke
house as eels inside turn a golden
brown. Local cherry, hickory and
apple are choice woods for
smoking.
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
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