January 26, 2006 - Focusing on Florida findsSA • The Suffolk Times • January 26, 2006
Here In Florida some of the snowy egrets
(left), which are usually leery of man in
our area, have lost that fear, as we see
here, where one Is looking for a hand-
out from a man cleaning his fish. This
sheepshead (above) Is one of the marry
kinds of fish people go for when fishing
the various piers along Florida's Gulf
Coast. A snowman — no — a sandman
made with the fine packing sand found
along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico.
Suffolk Imes photos by Barbara and Paul Stoutenburph
Focusing on Florida finds
WE'RE BACK DOWN on the Gulf
Coast of Florida and having a ball just
doing whatever fits the day. One day it
might be a walk along the seven miles
of public beach on the Gulf with its
dunes and stands of sea oats. Another
day it might be photograph-
ing the pelicans that drift by
with no apparent effort.
The sand here is not like ON
the sand of our great beach-
es that face the mighty
Atlantic along the south
shore. This is a much finer
sand, able to be packed into
solid forms. Our grandkids
came down a few weeks ago
and actually made a snowman — no, a
sandman — because of the easy pack-
ing ability of the sand. This makes it
easy for the budding sculptors who
create great castles, 10- foot4ong al-
ligators and other wonders out of this
excellent sand.
Today we took a trolley down to its
last stop and then walked a quarter of
a mile to a gigantic flea market that's
called "Thieves' Market." What a con-
glomeration of odds and ends. We had
no television here and were going to
buy one at the first chance we could,
but at the market we found one for
$5. Yes $5. "Is it color ?" Yes. "Does it
take tapes?' Yes. "Why are you selling
it?" "rm getting a whole new elec-
tronics system and have no use for it"
Could this be true?
We said we'd take it — but then
how would we get it back to our
place? Seems every day the owner
of the TV stops in at a particular bar
near us at 3 p.m. to have some refresh-
ments "You could meet me
there at 3 p.m.," he said.
Focus "OK." Sure enough, at 3
p.m. there was our man. We
got our TV and it works
great! We couldn't believe
our good luck. It just goes
to show you what can un-
ravel if you get up and ex-
plore the possibilities.
Yesterday we tried fish-
ing off the pier that sticks out into
the bay behind us.Tbere are always
some diehard fishermen and fisher -
women hanging their poles over the
side. We used worms for bait but oth-
ers used small crabs and some used
live shrimp, which, by the way, looked
good enough to take home and eat.
They were catching a type of porgy
called a sheepshead. They are some-
what like our porgies but have five
to seven broad, vertical black stripes
running the length of their body.Tbe
part I felt that closely resembles our
porgies was the rigid scales and sharp
fins that anyone who has handled por-
gies knows all too well.
We didn't have any luck fishing but
we did fairly well crabbing. I pulled in
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by Paul
Stoutenburgh
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three nice blue -claw crabs that were
dining on my bait. Barbara hustled
them into the bucket for later con -
sumption.This was our first attempt
at pier fishing. We're told there is no
fishing license necessary if you use the
piers, but if you fish from a boat or
from shore you have to have a license.
We did catch one nice blowfish,
which reminded me of years ago when
blowfish were plentiful in our bays. I
know I've mentioned this before, but
I wonder how many of you remember
that era of the blowfish. At first it was
a time of frustration for the fisherman,
for the blowfish became
experts at stealing your bait.
The only good part in those
early days about blowfish
was that they kept the kids
happy playing with them.
They'd scratch their bellies
and giggle as the blowfish
pumped themselves into a
ball with air.
Then came the revelation:'Ibey
were delicious eating and the best
part was that they had no pesky fish
bones. The only drawback was that
you had to know how to skin them.
For those who could clean them, it
was 1,2,3,4, and the fish was ready for
the pan. We never wore gloves when
we cleaned a mess of them; the result
was that our fingertips were shredded
as if we'd sandpapered them, but that
never stopped us from cleaning them.
Today, if you're lucky, you might run
across blowfish in the local fish mar-
ket, where they are called "chicken of
the sea."
But back to the blue -claw crab.
The sight of those blue-claw crabs I
brought up on my fishing line brought
back fond memories of crabbing in
our local creeks back home. From
my earliest memories, I cherish those
carefree days of walking through our
shallow -water creeks with a crab net,
poking each clump of seaweed in
hopes of finding a soft crab or chasing
out a hard -shell crab.
And then there was the
wonder how marina. This was forbidden
many of yoU territory according to the
remember owner, and he did his best
to keep us kids out of this
that era of fruitful place for catching
the blowflSh. crabs on the pilings. The
best and easiest crabs to
catch were on those multi-
tudes of pilings found in the marina. It
was a challenge for us kids to sneak in
and scoop the hard crabs off with little
effort
Occasionally a catch of crabs would
be left unattended overnight in the
tub. Sometimes one or two would
climb out and head down the road
or, worse yet, crawl under the porch
and die. After a week or so the smell
would give them away. Luckily those
occasions only happened once in a
while.
The usual way we ate crabs was out-
side on an old, wooden table. News-
papers were put down and the pot of
cooked crabs would be dumped in the
center of the table, where everyone
grabbed their choice "pickin's" The
big top shell would be taken off. Here
my dad always dug in with a spoon to
get at the mustard (fat) in each end of
the shell. Nutcrackers and hammers
would be passed around to crack the
claws open.
We were taught to get every last
bit of meat out of our crab before we
went for another.That meant work-
ing the legs between our teeth while
gradually pulling the leg•. This forced
the meat out. They used to say that
when our family made a meal of crabs,
the yellow jackets would have a hard
time fording anything to eat!
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The Suffolk Times • January 26, 2006 0 Focusin on
Florida finds
a
dui �
R
MLL
Here in Florida some of the snowy egrets
(left), which are usually leery of man in
our area, have lost that fear, as we see
here, where one is looking for a hand-
out from a man cleaning his fish. This
sheepshead (above) is one of the many
kinds of fish people go for when fishing
the various piers along Florida's Gulf
Coast. A snowman — no — a sandman
made with the fine packing sand found
along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico.
Suffolk Times photos by Barbara and Paul Stoutenburgh
WE'RE BACK DOWN on the Gulf
Coast of Florida and having a ball just
doing whatever fits the day. One day it
might be a walk along the seven miles
of public beach on the Gulf, with its
dunes and stands of sea oats. Another
day it might be photograph-
ing the pelicans that drift by
with no apparent effort.
The sand here is not like
the sand of our great beach -
es that face the mighty
Atlantic along the south
shore. This is a much finer
sand, able to be packed into
solid forms. Our grandkids
came down a few weeks ago
and actually made a snowman — no, a
sandman — because of the easy pack-
ing ability of the sand. This makes it
easy for the budding sculptors who
,create great castles, 10- foot -long al-
ligators and other wonders out of this
excellent sand.
F®CUS
ON
NATURE
by Paul
Stoutenburgh
0,
dui �
R
MLL
Here in Florida some of the snowy egrets
(left), which are usually leery of man in
our area, have lost that fear, as we see
here, where one is looking for a hand-
out from a man cleaning his fish. This
sheepshead (above) is one of the many
kinds of fish people go for when fishing
the various piers along Florida's Gulf
Coast. A snowman — no — a sandman
made with the fine packing sand found
along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico.
Suffolk Times photos by Barbara and Paul Stoutenburgh
WE'RE BACK DOWN on the Gulf
Coast of Florida and having a ball just
doing whatever fits the day. One day it
might be a walk along the seven miles
of public beach on the Gulf, with its
dunes and stands of sea oats. Another
day it might be photograph-
ing the pelicans that drift by
with no apparent effort.
The sand here is not like
the sand of our great beach -
es that face the mighty
Atlantic along the south
shore. This is a much finer
sand, able to be packed into
solid forms. Our grandkids
came down a few weeks ago
and actually made a snowman — no, a
sandman — because of the easy pack-
ing ability of the sand. This makes it
easy for the budding sculptors who
,create great castles, 10- foot -long al-
ligators and other wonders out of this
excellent sand.
F®CUS
ON
NATURE
by Paul
Stoutenburgh
ioaay we took a trolley down to its
last stop and then walked a quarter of
a mile to a gigantic flea market that's
called "Thieves' Market." What a con-
glomeration of odds and ends. We had
no television here and were going to
buy one at the first chance. we could,
but at the market we found one for
$5. Yes. $5. "Is it color ?" Yes. "Does it
take tapes ?" Yes. "Why are you selling
it ?" "I'm getting a whole new elec-
tronics system and have no use for it."
Could this be true?
We said we'd take it — but then
how would we get it back to our
place? Seems every day the owner
of the TV stops in at a particular bar
near us at 3 p.m. to have some refresh
ments. "You could meet me
there at 3 p.m.," he said.
"OK." Sure enough, at 3
p.m. there was our man. We
got our TV and it works
great! We'couldn't believe
our good luck. It just goes
to show you what can un-
ravel if you get up and ex-
plore the possibilities.
Yesterday we tried fish_ -
mg o e pier that sticks out into
the bay behind us. There are always
some diehard fishermen and fisher -
women hanging their poles over the
side. We used worms for bait but oth-
ers used small crabs and some used
live shrimp, which, by the way, looked
good enough to take home and eat.
They were catching a type of porgy
called a sheepshead. They are some-
what like our porgies but have five
to.seven broad, vertical black stripes
running the length of their body. The
part I felt that closely resembles our
porgies was the rigid scales and sharp
fins that anyone who has handled por-
gies knows all too well.
We didn't have any luck fishing but
Iwe did fairly well crabbing. I pulled in
I wonder hot
many of you
remember
that era of
the blowfish.
three nice blue -claw crabs that were
dining on my bait. Barbara hustled
them into the bucket for later con-
sumption. This was our first attempt
at pier fishing. We're told there is no
fishing license necessary if you use the
piers, but if you fish from a boat or
from shore you have to have a license.
We did catch one nice blowfish,
which reminded me of years ago when
blowfish were plentiful in our bays. I
know I've mentioned this before, but
I wonder how many of you remember
that era of the blowfish. At first it was
a time of frustration for the fisherman,
for the blowfish became
experts at stealing your bait.
The only good part in those
early days about blowfish
was that they kept the kids
happy playing with them.
They'd scratch their bellies
and giggle as the blowfish
pumped themselves into a
ball with air.
Then came the revelation: ey
were delicious eating and the best
part was that they had no pesky fish
bones. The only drawback was that
you had to know how to skin them.
For those who could clean them, it
was 1,2,3,4, and the fish was ready for
the pan. We never wore gloves when
we cleaned a mess of them; the result
was that our fingertips were shredded
as if we'd sandpapered them, but that
never stopped us from cleaning them.
Today, if you're lucky, you might run
across blowfish in the local fish mar-
ket, where they are called "chicken of
the sea."
But back to the blue -claw crab.
The sight of those blue -claw crabs I
brought up on my fishing line brought
back fond memories of crabbing in .
our local creeks back home. From
my earliest memories, I cherish those
carefree days of walking through our
shallow -water creeks with a crab net,
poking each clump of seaweed in
hopes of finding a soft crab or chasing
out a hard -shell crab.
And then there was the
marina. This was forbidden
territory according to the
owner, and he did his best
to keep us kids out of this
fruitful place for catching
crabs on the pilings. The
best and easiest crabs to
catch were on those multi-
tudes of pilings found in the marina. It
was a challenge for us kids to sneak in
and scoop the hard crabs off with littl
effort.
Occasionally a catch of crabs would
be left unattended overnight in the
tub. Sometimes one or two would
climb out and head down the road .
or, worse yet, crawl under the porch
and die. After a week or so the smell
would give them away. Luckily those
c)ccasions only happened once in a
The usual way we ate crabs was out
side on an old, wooden table. News-
papers were put down and the pot of
cooked crabs would be dumped in the
center of the table, where everyone
grabbed their choice "pickin's." The
big top shell would be taken off. Here
my dad always dug in with a spoon to
get at the mustard (fat) in each end of
the shell. Nutcrackers and hammers
would be passed around to crack the
laws open.
We were taught to get every last
bit of meat out of our crab before we
went for another. That meant work-
ing the legs between our teeth while
gradually pulling the leg: This forced
the meat out. They used to say that
when our family made a.meal of crabs
the yellow jackets would have a hard
time finding anything to eat!