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June 29, 2000 - Looking for bluefish? Follow the ospreyIOA • The Suffolk Times • June 29, 2000 Looking for bluefish? Follow the osprey Have you ever had the feeling that something was about to happen? You could almost feel it in the air. Yet there was something missing. I need- ed something to "jump start" the day. It came in the form of my youngest son, who had been busy working around his place and stopped by F�CU$ the house. As we stood and talked, ON I said, "How NATURE about going fish- ing?" He agreed, by Paul and the day took Stoutenburgh off. We had heard that the bunkers, a type of herring, were in the bay. These filter feeders once schooled in such numbers that they spawned the largest fishing industry along the entire east- ern seaboard. Big bunker boats from the south traveled north with the schools of silvery fish, reaping the har- vest with their modern boats and nets. So profitable were their catches that local processing plants were built, par- ticularly out around Montauk and the Napeague Bay area. We actually had one of the pro- cessing plants on the North Fork out at Long Beach Bay, which is now Orient Beach State Park. You can still see some of the old sandstone -and- cement foundation and piles of debris where the processing plant once stood. The remains can be seen about three - quarters of a mile west of the parking lot on the Gardiners Bay side. But like so many of our natural re- sources that everyone thought would never end, it did end due to overfish- ing, and one of the most profitable fishing industries became only a frac- tion of what it once was. Today we see only remnants of those great schools of bunkers and it was these remnants out in our bay that stirred us on. We knew that under them there could be bluefish, for those tigers of the sea prey relentlessly on bunkers. It took us no time at all to get our gear together and we were soon down at the dock where our faithful old Boston Whaler awaited us. By now it was late afternoon. Out on the bay we were the only ones thinking of fishing. The weekend boaters had already left for home. The only thing we did notice were three ospreys that were circling overhead Could they be telling us that bunkers were below? Ospreys like bunkers After all, those 10- to 12- inch -long, deep - bellied, oily fish are one of the osprey's chief foods. Later we'd watch an osprey hover, then from a height of 80 to 100 feet start its dive and, just before it hit the water, fold its wings, thrust out its open talons and plummet into the water. Ospreys are not always successful in their dives, but they never give up. If you watch them long enough, you are bound to see one of them make a catch. With spray flying and flap- ping wings, it pumps its way up- ward with its sil- very twisting prize in its talons. Then, with a mighty shake in midair to rid its body of excess water, it is off to a nearby perch where it will feast on "sushi." The ospreys' choice of perch is sometimes deadly. I know of two cases where ospreys were electro- cuted when they chose a telephone pole as their dining area. Evidently the wet, salty fish crossed a high ten- sion wire and the birds were done in. In both cases you could see the burned talons where they had touched the wire. Roger caught a few bunkers for bait and proceeded to hook one on the spinal rigs we'd made for bluefish. We dropped one of the bait bunkers overboard and after a few minutes had a hit — and what a hit it was! It was just a short distance from the boat so we could see the two or three, or maybe even four, bluefish thrash- ing like sharks as they tore at the baited bunker. I had hooked one but it soon threw the hook while the oth- ers thrashed about grabbing the pieces that had been thrown off. The water was bloody. It was a savage sight, one that goes on every day in pull so hard. In the meantime, we realized we had forgotten the landing net and were anxious that we wouldn't be able to get these ever - fighting, jaw - snapping, big bluefish over the side without breaking the line. Finally landed one With this in mind, I worked the fish in close enough so my son could get hold of the wire leader, which was much stronger than the line, and with one gigantic pull, in came the thrash- ing bluefish. Its head and tail pound- ed on the bottom of the boat. It was an exciting moment, one we both could hardly believe, to see bluefish of that size so far up in our shallow bay. We could see the schooled bunkers breaking water occasionally, their dark rippled mass giving them away. They seem to snap their tails out of the water every once in a while and often, even though you weren't looking for them, you could hear them. To get our bait all we had to do was position ourselves near the school so Roger could snag another bunker. Again we hooked up our line with the still -live bunker, but this time we lost the whole rig. How a fish could cut that heavy nylon line with its four - foot metal leader, we couldn't under- stand. Could it be that the bluefish charged in with its mouth wide open and cut across our line? We'd never know. We rerigged and put over another bunker. Now the strike was almost immediate, but soon I knew I'd lost it, for there was an odd tension on the line. I reeled in and only half a bunker was left. The bluefish had completely cut it in half. You could actually see the curved mouth mark where it had chomped through the bunker. My, but they are terrors! We'd even see them going after the pieces as they thrashed about 30 or 40 feet away from the boat. Once one was so driven in its savage pursuit that it couldn't stop and came right out of the water. We must have lost three rigs as these fierce fighters kept cutting our line. We wound up with three big bluefish, probably averaging about 10 pounds. There would be a few fish swimming with sore jaws, perhaps even some with the hook still in them, but more likely they'd even- tually shake it loose. Our day was exciting. We'd have to try it again. We caught some extra bunkers to bring home for later use. Who knows what's ahead when it comes to fishing? The only true mas- ters of the art of knowing when and where the fish are running are the Suffolk Times photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh Of all the fish found in our waters, pound for pound none can beat the sav- age fighting power of the bluefish. From the little snappers we caught on bamboo poles as kids, to the deep runners taken out in the Gut, there's nothing that quite compares to the almighty bluefish. the life of a bluefish feeding on bunker. I pulled in my bare hooks and tried again. This time I really hooked into one. This one was not going to get away. It was truly hooked. In I'd reel and no sooner was my prize near the boat, than "Z- i -n -g," out went the line again. Once more I'd reel in. It seemed impossible that a fish could The Girls at Colorful Gardens announce it's Season! NO order TOO large or TOO small. Packed to go. AVAILABLE 7 days a week! Colzill4t gardeip" Main Road, Jamesport 722 -5400 - X106/- r�vn t fors too - ospreys. IOA • The Suffolk Times • June 29, 2000 Looking for bluefish? Follow the osprey Suffolk Times photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh Of all the fish found in our waters, pound for pound none can beat the sav- age fighting power of the bluefish. From the little snappers we caught on bamboo poles as kids, to the deep runners taken out in the Gut, there's nothing that quite compares to the almighty bluefish. Have you ever had the feeling that something was about to happen? You could almost feel it in the air. Yet there was something missing. I need- ed something to "jump start" the day. It came in the form of my youngest son, who had been busy working around his place and stopped by FOCUS the house. As we stood and talked, ON I said, "How NATURE about going fish- ing?" He agreed, by Paul and the day took Stoutenburgh We had heard that the bunkers, a type of herring, were in the bay. These filter feeders once schooled in such numbers that they spawned the largest fishing industry along the entire east- ern seaboard. Big bunker boats from the south traveled north with the schools of silvery fish, reaping the har- vest with their modern boats and nets. So profitable were their catches that local processing plants were built, par- ticularly out around Montauk and the Napeague Bay area. We actually had one of the pro- cessing plants on the North Fork out at Long Beach Bay, which is now Orient Beach State Park. You can still see some of the old sandstone -and- cement foundation and piles of debris where the processing plant once stood. The remains can be seen about three- quarters of a mile west of the parking lot on the Gardiners Bay side. But like so many of our natural re- sources that everyone thought would never end, it did end due to overfish- ing, and one of the most profitable fishing industries became only a frac- tion of what it once was. Today we see only remnants of those great schools of bunkers and it was these remnants out in our bay that stirred us on. We knew that under them there could be bluefish, for those tigers of the sea prey relentlessly on bunkers. It took us no time at all to get our gear together and we were soon down at the dock where our faithful old Boston Whaler awaited us. By now it was late afternoon. Out on the bay we were the only ones thinking of fishing. The weekend boaters had already left for home. The only thing we did notice were three ospreys that were circling overhead Could they be telling us that bunkers were below? After all, those 10- to 12- inch -long, deep - bellied, oily fish are one of the osprey's chief foods. Later we'd watch an osprey hover, then from a height of 80 to 100 feet start its dive and, just before it hit the water, fold its wings, thrust out its open talons and plummet .into the water. Ospreys are not always successful in their dives, but they never give up. If you watch them long enough, you are bound to see one of them make a catch. With spray flying and flap- ping wings, it pumps its way up- ward with its sil- very twisting prize in its talons. Then, with a mighty shake in midair to rid its body ,of excess water, it is off to a nearby perch where it will feast on "sushi." The ospreys' choice of perch is sometimes deadly. I know of two cases where ospreys were electro- cuted when they chose a telephone pole as their dining area. Evidently the wet, salty fish crossed a high ten- sion wire and. the birds were done in. In both cases you could see the burned talons where they had touched the wire. I Roger caught a few bunkers for bait and proceeded to hook one on the spinal rigs we'd made for bluefish We dropped one of the bait bunkers overboard and after a few minutes had a hit — and what a hit it was! It was just a short distance from the boat so we could see the two or three or maybe even four, bluefish thrash- ing like sharks as they tore at the baited bunker. I had hooked one but it soon threw the hook while the oth- ers thrashed about grabbing the pieces that had been thrown off. The water was bloody. It was a savage sight, one that goes on every day in the life of a bluefish feeding on bunker. I pulled in my bare hooks and tried again. This time I really hooked into one. This one was not going to get away. It was truly hooked. In I'd reel and no sooner was my prize near the boat, than "Z- i -n -g," out went the line again. Once more I'd reel in. It seemed impossible that a fish could_ pull so hard. In the meantime, we realized we had forgotten the landing net and were anxious that we wouldn't be able to get these ever - fighting, jaw - snapping, big bluefish over the side without breaking the line. Finally landed one With this in mind, I worked the fish in close enough so my son could get hold of the wire leader, which was much stronger than the line, and with one gigantic pull, in came the thrash- ing bluefish. Its head and tail pound- ed on the bottom of the boat. It was an exciting moment, one we both could hardly believe, to see bluefish of that size so far up in our shallow bay. We could see the schooled bunkers breaking water occasionally, their dark rippled mass giving them away. They seem to snap their tails out of the water every once in a while and often, even though you weren't looking for them, you could hear them. To get our bait all we had to do was position ourselves near the school so Roger could snag another bunker. Again we hooked up our line with the still -live bunker, but this time we lost the whole rig. How a fish could cut that heavy nylon line with its four - foot metal leader, we couldn't under- stand. Could it be that the bluefish charged in with its mouth wide open and cut across our line? We'd never know. We rerigged and put over another bunker. Now the strike was almost immediate, but soon I knew I'd lost it, for there was an odd tension on the line. I reeled in and only half a bunker was left. The bluefish had completely cut it in half. You could actually see the curved mouth mark where it had chomped through the bunker. My, but they are terrors! We'd even see them going after the pieces as they thrashed about 30 or 40 feet away from the boat. Once one was so driven in its savage pursuit that it couldn't stop and came right out of the water. We must have lost three rigs as these fierce fighters kept cutting our line. We wound up with three big bluefish, probably averaging about 10 pounds. There would be a few fish swimming with sore jaws, perhaps even some with the hook still in them, but more likely they'd even- tually shake it loose. Our day was exciting. We'd have to try it again. We caught some extra bunkers to bring home for later use. Who knows what's ahead when it comes to fishing? The only true mas- ters of the art of knowing when and where the fish are running are the IOA • The Suffolk Times • June 29, 2000 Looking for bluefish? Follow the osprey Suffolk Times photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh Of all the fish found in our waters, pound for pound none can beat the sav- age fighting power of the bluefish. From the little snappers we caught on bamboo poles as kids, to the deep runners taken out in the Gut, there's nothing that quite compares to the almighty bluefish. Have you ever had the feeling that something was about to happen? You could almost feel it in the air. Yet there was something missing. I need- ed something to "jump start" the day. It came in the form of my youngest son, who had been busy working around his place and stopped by FOCUS the house. As we stood and talked, ON I said, "How NATURE about going fish- ing?" He agreed, by Paul and the day took Stoutenburgh We had heard that the bunkers, a type of herring, were in the bay. These filter feeders once schooled in such numbers that they spawned the largest fishing industry along the entire east- ern seaboard. Big bunker boats from the south traveled north with the schools of silvery fish, reaping the har- vest with their modern boats and nets. So profitable were their catches that local processing plants were built, par- ticularly out around Montauk and the Napeague Bay area. We actually had one of the pro- cessing plants on the North Fork out at Long Beach Bay, which is now Orient Beach State Park. You can still see some of the old sandstone -and- cement foundation and piles of debris where the processing plant once stood. The remains can be seen about three- quarters of a mile west of the parking lot on the Gardiners Bay side. But like so many of our natural re- sources that everyone thought would never end, it did end due to overfish- ing, and one of the most profitable fishing industries became only a frac- tion of what it once was. Today we see only remnants of those great schools of bunkers and it was these remnants out in our bay that stirred us on. We knew that under them there could be bluefish, for those tigers of the sea prey relentlessly on bunkers. It took us no time at all to get our gear together and we were soon down at the dock where our faithful old Boston Whaler awaited us. By now it was late afternoon. Out on the bay we were the only ones thinking of fishing. The weekend boaters had already left for home. The only thing we did notice were three ospreys that were circling overhead Could they be telling us that bunkers were below? After all, those 10- to 12- inch -long, deep - bellied, oily fish are one of the osprey's chief foods. Later we'd watch an osprey hover, then from a height of 80 to 100 feet start its dive and, just before it hit the water, fold its wings, thrust out its open talons and plummet .into the water. Ospreys are not always successful in their dives, but they never give up. If you watch them long enough, you are bound to see one of them make a catch. With spray flying and flap- ping wings, it pumps its way up- ward with its sil- very twisting prize in its talons. Then, with a mighty shake in midair to rid its body ,of excess water, it is off to a nearby perch where it will feast on "sushi." The ospreys' choice of perch is sometimes deadly. I know of two cases where ospreys were electro- cuted when they chose a telephone pole as their dining area. Evidently the wet, salty fish crossed a high ten- sion wire and. the birds were done in. In both cases you could see the burned talons where they had touched the wire. I Roger caught a few bunkers for bait and proceeded to hook one on the spinal rigs we'd made for bluefish We dropped one of the bait bunkers overboard and after a few minutes had a hit — and what a hit it was! It was just a short distance from the boat so we could see the two or three or maybe even four, bluefish thrash- ing like sharks as they tore at the baited bunker. I had hooked one but it soon threw the hook while the oth- ers thrashed about grabbing the pieces that had been thrown off. The water was bloody. It was a savage sight, one that goes on every day in the life of a bluefish feeding on bunker. I pulled in my bare hooks and tried again. This time I really hooked into one. This one was not going to get away. It was truly hooked. In I'd reel and no sooner was my prize near the boat, than "Z- i -n -g," out went the line again. Once more I'd reel in. It seemed impossible that a fish could_ pull so hard. In the meantime, we realized we had forgotten the landing net and were anxious that we wouldn't be able to get these ever - fighting, jaw - snapping, big bluefish over the side without breaking the line. Finally landed one With this in mind, I worked the fish in close enough so my son could get hold of the wire leader, which was much stronger than the line, and with one gigantic pull, in came the thrash- ing bluefish. Its head and tail pound- ed on the bottom of the boat. It was an exciting moment, one we both could hardly believe, to see bluefish of that size so far up in our shallow bay. We could see the schooled bunkers breaking water occasionally, their dark rippled mass giving them away. They seem to snap their tails out of the water every once in a while and often, even though you weren't looking for them, you could hear them. To get our bait all we had to do was position ourselves near the school so Roger could snag another bunker. Again we hooked up our line with the still -live bunker, but this time we lost the whole rig. How a fish could cut that heavy nylon line with its four - foot metal leader, we couldn't under- stand. Could it be that the bluefish charged in with its mouth wide open and cut across our line? We'd never know. We rerigged and put over another bunker. Now the strike was almost immediate, but soon I knew I'd lost it, for there was an odd tension on the line. I reeled in and only half a bunker was left. The bluefish had completely cut it in half. You could actually see the curved mouth mark where it had chomped through the bunker. My, but they are terrors! We'd even see them going after the pieces as they thrashed about 30 or 40 feet away from the boat. Once one was so driven in its savage pursuit that it couldn't stop and came right out of the water. We must have lost three rigs as these fierce fighters kept cutting our line. We wound up with three big bluefish, probably averaging about 10 pounds. There would be a few fish swimming with sore jaws, perhaps even some with the hook still in them, but more likely they'd even- tually shake it loose. Our day was exciting. We'd have to try it again. We caught some extra bunkers to bring home for later use. Who knows what's ahead when it comes to fishing? The only true mas- ters of the art of knowing when and where the fish are running are the IOA • The Suffolk Times • June 29, 2000 Looking for bluefish? Follow the osprey Suffolk Times photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh Of all the fish found in our waters, pound for pound none can beat the sav- age fighting power of the bluefish. From the little snappers we caught on bamboo poles as kids, to the deep runners taken out in the Gut, there's nothing that quite compares to the almighty bluefish. Have you ever had the feeling that something was about to happen? You could almost feel it in the air. Yet there was something missing. I need- ed something to "jump start" the day. It came in the form of my youngest son, who had been busy working around his place and stopped by FOCUS the house. As we stood and talked, ON I said, "How NATURE about going fish- ing?" He agreed, by Paul and the day took Stoutenburgh We had heard that the bunkers, a type of herring, were in the bay. These filter feeders once schooled in such numbers that they spawned the largest fishing industry along the entire east- ern seaboard. Big bunker boats from the south traveled north with the schools of silvery fish, reaping the har- vest with their modern boats and nets. So profitable were their catches that local processing plants were built, par- ticularly out around Montauk and the Napeague Bay area. We actually had one of the pro- cessing plants on the North Fork out at Long Beach Bay, which is now Orient Beach State Park. You can still see some of the old sandstone -and- cement foundation and piles of debris where the processing plant once stood. The remains can be seen about three- quarters of a mile west of the parking lot on the Gardiners Bay side. But like so many of our natural re- sources that everyone thought would never end, it did end due to overfish- ing, and one of the most profitable fishing industries became only a frac- tion of what it once was. Today we see only remnants of those great schools of bunkers and it was these remnants out in our bay that stirred us on. We knew that under them there could be bluefish, for those tigers of the sea prey relentlessly on bunkers. It took us no time at all to get our gear together and we were soon down at the dock where our faithful old Boston Whaler awaited us. By now it was late afternoon. Out on the bay we were the only ones thinking of fishing. The weekend boaters had already left for home. The only thing we did notice were three ospreys that were circling overhead Could they be telling us that bunkers were below? After all, those 10- to 12- inch -long, deep - bellied, oily fish are one of the osprey's chief foods. Later we'd watch an osprey hover, then from a height of 80 to 100 feet start its dive and, just before it hit the water, fold its wings, thrust out its open talons and plummet .into the water. Ospreys are not always successful in their dives, but they never give up. If you watch them long enough, you are bound to see one of them make a catch. With spray flying and flap- ping wings, it pumps its way up- ward with its sil- very twisting prize in its talons. Then, with a mighty shake in midair to rid its body ,of excess water, it is off to a nearby perch where it will feast on "sushi." The ospreys' choice of perch is sometimes deadly. I know of two cases where ospreys were electro- cuted when they chose a telephone pole as their dining area. Evidently the wet, salty fish crossed a high ten- sion wire and. the birds were done in. In both cases you could see the burned talons where they had touched the wire. I Roger caught a few bunkers for bait and proceeded to hook one on the spinal rigs we'd made for bluefish We dropped one of the bait bunkers overboard and after a few minutes had a hit — and what a hit it was! It was just a short distance from the boat so we could see the two or three or maybe even four, bluefish thrash- ing like sharks as they tore at the baited bunker. I had hooked one but it soon threw the hook while the oth- ers thrashed about grabbing the pieces that had been thrown off. The water was bloody. It was a savage sight, one that goes on every day in the life of a bluefish feeding on bunker. I pulled in my bare hooks and tried again. This time I really hooked into one. This one was not going to get away. It was truly hooked. In I'd reel and no sooner was my prize near the boat, than "Z- i -n -g," out went the line again. Once more I'd reel in. It seemed impossible that a fish could_ pull so hard. In the meantime, we realized we had forgotten the landing net and were anxious that we wouldn't be able to get these ever - fighting, jaw - snapping, big bluefish over the side without breaking the line. Finally landed one With this in mind, I worked the fish in close enough so my son could get hold of the wire leader, which was much stronger than the line, and with one gigantic pull, in came the thrash- ing bluefish. Its head and tail pound- ed on the bottom of the boat. It was an exciting moment, one we both could hardly believe, to see bluefish of that size so far up in our shallow bay. We could see the schooled bunkers breaking water occasionally, their dark rippled mass giving them away. They seem to snap their tails out of the water every once in a while and often, even though you weren't looking for them, you could hear them. To get our bait all we had to do was position ourselves near the school so Roger could snag another bunker. Again we hooked up our line with the still -live bunker, but this time we lost the whole rig. How a fish could cut that heavy nylon line with its four - foot metal leader, we couldn't under- stand. Could it be that the bluefish charged in with its mouth wide open and cut across our line? We'd never know. We rerigged and put over another bunker. Now the strike was almost immediate, but soon I knew I'd lost it, for there was an odd tension on the line. I reeled in and only half a bunker was left. The bluefish had completely cut it in half. You could actually see the curved mouth mark where it had chomped through the bunker. My, but they are terrors! We'd even see them going after the pieces as they thrashed about 30 or 40 feet away from the boat. Once one was so driven in its savage pursuit that it couldn't stop and came right out of the water. We must have lost three rigs as these fierce fighters kept cutting our line. We wound up with three big bluefish, probably averaging about 10 pounds. There would be a few fish swimming with sore jaws, perhaps even some with the hook still in them, but more likely they'd even- tually shake it loose. Our day was exciting. We'd have to try it again. We caught some extra bunkers to bring home for later use. Who knows what's ahead when it comes to fishing? The only true mas- ters of the art of knowing when and where the fish are running are the