I'm facing some deadlines down here so it's going to be hard to do this properly for a while.
I will say I did get a chance to take a guided trip to the cayes and it was phenomenal. Rough weather early, then it smoothed out and we got into some kingfish...one of which made a donation to the local barracuda population while on the line.
It has been a good trip so far. The fishing is gravy.
Policy and hamburger: not something you really want to see
I just noticed my feet.
There are 21 big bites on the top of my right foot and 10 bug bites on my left foot.
It seems I've entered what I fondly call the "hamburger stage" of my visit to Belize. You commonly see it at the departing gates of Philip Goldson International Airport in Belize City and other ecotourism venues. Look for people who are exhausted, shell shocked, dirty and so bitten by insects that they resemble ground beef. That's the hamburger stage.
I am no tourist here. I've been doing research on and off in Belize since 2003. I lived here for two years soon after college and fell in love with the place.
When I found out there was work to be done on the effects of shrimp aquaculture in the region, I jumped at the chance. With a little guidance from the Nature Conservancy, I ended up working with a Belizean NGO called "Friends of Nature" and have began testing techniques to monitor shrimp farm effluents ever since.
The experience has been...
...well...the kind of thing that keeps you from noticing that you have 31 bug bites on the tops of your feet.
At the moment, I'm working on ecocertifications for the World Wildlife Fund, providing some baseline data for their program. It appears that work may be used to establish Best Management Practices for shrimp aquaculture in the nation of Belize. We'll see. My current hurdle is writing this final report for the project. Ah, my old nemesis technical writing...you are truly the hamburger stage of science.
For this post, I originally wanted to post pictures of fish I've collected from the lagoon. Trotting out all those different kinds of fish would have been an eye-opener to illustrate the sub-tropical marine diversity, but frankly there are just too many photos to handle in a blog like this. So far we have collected over 70 species out of a body of water a scant 14 miles long and half a mile wide. Every time we look, we find more. We'll probably top out over 100. That's more fish species than occur in whole watersheds and even many whole states. The lagoon is just that kind of place...too overwhelming to describe it succinctly.
Instead, I'll focus here on my current project.
The picture below is of a healthy bed of seagrass. This particular photo gives me some pleasure for reasons I'll discuss at some later date.
That's some happy seagrass. You can sort of see it smile if you turn your head just right.
The other photo is a little less joyful. It's is a satellite shot of Placencia Lagoon during 1999. Maybe you can notice a few things here. That little white patch in the upper left hand side of the lagoon is a shrimp farm. That specific farm has closed since this picture was taken.
Now go back and look at the color of the water offshore from the farm. I'll forgo a complicated limnological discussion and just say that peagreen water is generally a bad thing where water quality is concerned. That farm has been closed for seven years.
Here's the status of the seagrass in that area now.
Not even tourists at the airport look this bedraggled.
Frankly, I'm grateful that even these few measley sprigs of Chara are there. We could be seeing signs of regrowth in the upper lagoon. It's too soon to say and the future is still uncertain, but there is hope.
I've been encouraged by the shrimp farmers that are still in business in Belize. After a sort of "wait and see" period, they have been receptive to my work and improving practices. The trends are positive for now. Some of these people are downright heroic.
Overall, I'm delighted to be here...
..but if you'll excuse me, at the moment I have some hamburger to write.
Over the years, I've taken on a number of projects in conjuction with my work as a biologist.
My favorite, by far, is the work I've done on Placencia Lagoon. This is me below taking anchor drops for a seagrass survey. In case you can't tell through the polarized shades and layers of muck...that look on my face is one of pure ecstacy.
Who knew muck could be so fun. I love this place!
There's a link to a Placencia Lagoon blog on the right under "Belize Projects". I've also added two posts from my naturalist's blog that refer directly to experiences in the lagoon.
I hope you enjoy these and please do take the time to check them out. I'll have more to say about this area as time wears on. It is a very special place.
Biologist Eric Fernandez and I encountered this fish during a day of sampling in Placencia Lagoon. The man who had caught it was a Garifuna fisher from that village of Seine Bight. We found him happily paddling back home from drop fishing and checking set lines tied to the mangrove the night before. The hook from the set line was still in the grouper's mouth.
We paid the fisher to take a tissue sample from this fish. From the stable carbon isotopes in that sample, we found this fish was feeding from a foodweb based primarily on mangrove. In some senses, this fish was unique. Most of the fish we tested in the lagoon had used a much higher proportion of carbon from sea grass and single celled algae. Almost all the tissue in this fish came from animals that had been feeding on mangroves. I suspect crabs were its' primary prey.
The link between mangroves and goliath grouper is well established. Recently scientists have discovered that as juveniles, they live among the prop roots of red mangrove. Later, they migrate out to the Mesoamerican Reef where they can attain sizes well over 100kg. Fishers in Seine Bight have targeted Placencia Lagoon goliath groupers (formerly known as "jewfish") for generations. That fishery is still active and Seine Bight fishers still actively harvest goliath grouper in gill nets and with handlines.
Considered alone, the long standing goliath grouper fishery is probably not a threat to the sustainability of this species. Certainly some economic benefits arise from their harvest. The fish in the picture above represents a modest economic boon for the man who caught it (US 2$ per kg at approximately 10kg). However, coupled with the large scale changes that are occurring in coastal Belize, there are concerns about the conservation status of this species. After all, the fish in the picture above is still very much a baby. How many of those "smaller" fish are maturing to become adults and reproduce? When coupled with the wide spread removal of mangrove by developers, and the reduced water quality from effluent sources is there reason to be concerned about goliath groupers in Placencia Lagoon?
An additional concern is raised by a recent study by the Biodiversity Institute found that tissues in just over half goliath grouper they sampled in Southern Belize contained methyl-mercury levels above the USEPA threshold for health advisories. Children and pregnant women feeding on goliath grouper more frequently than twice a week are at risk are at risk for neurological damage.
Some data from this study seems to indicate that the higher a goliath grouper feeds in the food chain, the more mercury it is likely to contain. Mercury increased with delta-15N levels in the tissues of this species. This pattern fits well with the observation that mercury bioaccumulates, or concentrates in the tissues of animals that feed on other animals. Delta-15N also tends to rise as fish feed higher in the food chain.
Because larger fish tend to consume larger prey that are often higher in the food chain than smaller prey, it is possible that consuming larger goliath groupers poses a greater health risk than smaller ones. These researchers will examine this and other questions over time.
Meet the manatee capture crew for Wildlife Trust, lead by Buddy Powell (captain Ahab there in the tower).
Buddy and crew recently came to Placencia Lagoon for their second year of affixing radio transmitters to West Indian Manatee. They are hoping to learn the about the distribution and ecology of West Indian Manatees in coastal Belize by tracking their movements over time and analyzing the environmental variables affecting their use of various habitats. As field work goes, this is exciting stuff.
In the first phase of the capture, the boat captain finds a manatee in water of suitable depth and then deploys a net around the animal. "Anchors" (people) then jump into the water to keep the net in place in case the manatee tries to break free or if currents shift its' position.
A secondary net is then deployed inside the first net and the manatee is drug toward the stern of the capture boat. Note that the capture boat has both a tower for spotting manatees and transom in the midships to keep the propeller away from netted manatee. When the manatee is hauled to the rear of the boat, the crew all stand in the back to submerge the stern, the manatee is pulled aboard...
...and then the fun begins.
In this picture a female manatee is laying in the capture vessel and one of the technicians is monitoring CO2 levels in it's breaths. That along with frequency of breaths, heart rate and a variety of other data are collected to ensure the manatee is safe and not overly stressed while on the boat. At that point, the alien abuduction sequence begins.
Tissue samples are taken for DNA analysis. Sonograms are recorded. Body length, fecal samples, tear samples, photographs. In the name of most holy and exact science, everything up to but not including the dreaded anal probe is visited on the manatee...
...which generally seems non-plussed by the whole event.
Finally, a strap and a buoyant radio transmitter are affixed to the tail and the manatee is slid off the stern and back into the lagoon. Last year the Wildlife Trust collared two manatees. This year they refitted the same male for another year of observation. Other manatees were marked in the Southern Lagoon near Gales Point. Biologists will use Yaggi receivers to track the manatees over the course of the next year, monitoring their movements and habitat preferences.
Belize is one of the last bastions of the West Indian Manatee. As a developing nation, the coastline and habitats of the manatee are being gradually altered. Knowing where and how and why the manatee selects habitats will help guide conservation efforts for this most unique animal.
If you've spent time around commercial fishing gear, you know what that little row of buoys means. Go too close and you'll get a propeller full of heavy monofilament and a free ticket to spend the afternoon picking it out of your lower unit.
Being a person who is rather particular about my lower unit, I hope I can be forgiven for my brevity at the mouth of a creek in Placencia Lagoon yesterday.
"NET! NET! NET!"
Adrian heard me and stopped the boat in time. Thankfully, we managed to avoid a minor disaster.
The tarpon that congregate at the mouth of that creek were not so lucky.
This time of year the lagoon is loaded with "baby" tarpon. The one in the picture above probably weighs about four pounds...a mere shadow of the hulking brutes that comprise the largest of the saltwater fly fishing grand slam that also includes bonefish and permit.
Later in the day we mentioned the nets to some of the sport fishing tour guides in Placencia Village. They were pretty angry. Whoever put that net out was in clear violation of Belizean law. No nets can be placed at the mouths of creeks or within 3 miles of any settlement. Beyond that, tarpon are a livelihood for those men. Dead tarpon in nets represents lost revenue for them down the road. In a country that has just just passed a law requiring mandatory catch and release for bone fish, tarpon and permit, gill nets represent a decidely unhappy anachronism.
We reported the net to authorities. The Friends of Nature rangers probably confiscated it if the tour guides didn't get there first.
For all parties concerned, it seems to me the proposed gill net ban in southern Belize is probably a good idea. Belize has a low population density and relatively healthy but declining fisheries. I suppose this would be an excellent opportunity for a rousing round of chest thumping moralism about the evils and depravity of gill nets. Somehow I don't feel quite up to the task.
It's true, I'd support a ban on gill nets if it were done with a buy-back program or something else to avoid punishing the fishers...but the life of a fisher cuts close to the bone. It's hard to blame them for seeking out advantages to get by and Belizean gill netting predates sport fishing by many, many years. It's just not very easy to see those guys as villains.
Yet the old days of the Belizean Kriol edict of "Dis da f'we sea." (roughly translated, "This is our sea.") are slowly changing as the reality of the sea as a shared commons becomes heavier and heavier. Signs of stress on marine resources are clear. Reduced catches and lower average fish size cannot be ignored.
Belizeans have been taking steps to reverse these trends. Regulations that restrict the gear and type of fish that can be taken are on the increase. Marine reserves that are doing a tremendous job increasing the average size and density of commercial fisheries species are also sometimes closed to fishers. Tarpon, permit and bonefish are now species that must be released once caught. Bit by bit, the subsistence fisher is having to share with new-comers in commercial and sport fisheries.
The great challenge Belize and in fisheries all over the world will be to achieve the balance needs across society for the greater good of all.
I want to pause for a moment to thank those of you reading this blog on a regular basis. If you're visiting for the first time, welcome! I hope you enjoy the writing and links.
If you have a fishing blog of your own and you've read what's here and you're not afraid to be associated with what you see here, leave your link. I'll be glad to add you to the list of fishing blogs on the homepage.
I'm hoping to create a clearinghouse for personal fishing blogs. Feel free to link to my site from your blogs as well.
Yesterday Jeff Douglas and I went out to catch smallmouth bass with his lifting buddy, Blake. The river was turbid and we missed the few chances we had. Jeff got two smallmouth. Neither of them were over 12 inches.
Rough day.
It didn't help that we were wet wading and dirty water hid the submerged timber. The shins took a beating as the day wore on and fatigue set in. We had another heavy rain last night so conditions won't improve soon.
At this moment, I am sufficiently traumatized by our experience that I'm going to leave the country and quit fishing altogether. Maybe I'll come back in the fall. Yeah. That's what I'll do.
In all seriousness, look for posts from Belize, Central America while I'm wrapping up a project down there. Maybe I can post some cool Belize stuff soon.
Cyprinus carpio. Despoiler of water clarity. Mucker of streams.
If there were ever an object lesson for conserving ecosystems over specific fisheries, the common carp provides it. However fun they are to catch, however admirable their physiological resilience, the carp is an exotic trouble maker in North America.
Common carp are native to Europe and Asia and they are highly esteemed as a sport fish there. It's easy to see why. Common carp put up a phenomenal fight. The fish above towed my kayak around a back water on the Kasksakia river for about ten mintues before I could get close to him (by the way, that's a hand-tied jig by Jonn Graham and it also catches smallmouth bass).
The fish in the video below hauled me out of an eddy where I had been parked and pulled me 100 yards downstream before I could get my spinner unhooked from his side. I've caught trophy fish of several species from my kayak and common carp are the only ones that towed me around while I was fighting them. Whatever else you say about Cyprinus carpio, one must acknowledge that they are a high quality game fish.
The problems with common carp become obvious when you understand that pulling on a fishing line isn't the only thing they do well. If it really is true that cockroaches will survive a nuclear blast, common carp must be similarly resilient.
This is a photo showing a few of the thousands of dead fish from a fish kill in Champaign, Illinois...
...and this photo shows what the carp in that pond were doing during the fish kill.
Spawning.
Come on. That's impressive. Maybe a coho salmon swimming thousands of miles to spawn until it dies is slightly more romantic, but a fish that can do the dirty deed in the midst of an ecological apocalypse simply boggles the mind.
That little anecdote nicely brackets the triumph and horror of common carp in North America. They can survive anything. Common carp can be found in almost every river in the upper Mississippi River basin. They were also one of only 3 species of fish that could survive in the polluted Chicago River in the 1960's. Common carp, goldfish, carp X goldfish hybrids. That story can be repeated all over the US. Where everything else will be dead and rotting in the anaerobic stink, common carp will still be there sharing a Courvoisier with flashy babes from an aquarium.
I can almost hear the clink of gold chains and disco music.
Perhaps we should take some comfort in the fact that if some dark mysterious enemy...say for instance the Axis of Evil, or the Axis of Bad Driving or the Axis of Unfortunate Table Manners were ever to obtain the bomb and our own fragile species were wiped out...
....there would still be something alive in our streams.
The indefatigable zombie fish from hell.
So kudos to the common carp. You're an impressive beast, really you are.
Too bad you are also a common thug.
The impact of common carp on sediment resuspension, water clarity, and aquatic vegetation in North America could hardly be over-estimated. An aggressive forager, the common carp takes whole bites out of the substrate as it feeds. It sifts the silt for tasty chironomids and invertebrates before spewing the dross back into the water and resuspending sediment and settled nutrients. The next time you're near a sandy substrate in a lake look for golf-ball like dimples. Those are carp bites. You can see some for yourself on the pond bottom in the photograph of the fish kill.
Ever since the 1940s when William Ricker showed the effects of common carp by removing them from a small lake, it has been clear that North American lakes streams have been paying a price in water clarity and eutrophication for their biomass of carp (and yes, this is the same Ricker of the famous Ricker Stock-Recruitment curve...a real page-turner...get it as light reading for your next beach vacation). The exact extent of carp effects have not been measured across the continent. It is difficult to precisely assess the effects of one species on whole ecosystems. However, in pond experiments, recent work by Joe Parkos at the Illinois Natural History Survey has experimentally confirmed Ricker's findings (although I still have an aneurism every time I remember that you used catfish as a control species for that experiment, Joe).
It is not difficult to imagine that the minnow and sucker species currently hanging by a thread might have been pushed into that status due to the loss of aquatic vegetation and refuge from carp foraging.
An aside and caveat regarding benthic algae: Where nutrients are high and algae growth is rapid, common carp may actually benefit some systems by supressing over-growths of algae on the bottom...even zombie fish from hell may have their virtues in some settings.
So here we are. Stuck with a creature with virtues as a sport fish but who despoils our lakes and streams. What's a sportfisher to do? Two general points of view have emerged on this issue.
"Carpbusters" says "Sport fishers should harvest (remove and kill) as many common carp as they possibly can."
1. Anyone who wants to fish for carp in North America is a wise and discerning person. They're a great sport fish (once you get past the smell and toxin-laden flesh). By all means, enjoy.
2. Common carp in Europe and inside their native range are wonderful. Yes. Catch and release those and God bless them and whatever rivers and fisheries you have left over there. In the days after Armagedon, you'll be the ones who can take credit for making sure the rest of us still have fish...
...but it isn't Armagedon yet, and we don't need any more of these silt-sucking lake wreckers than is absolutely necessary. Keep that carp! Bury it! Blow it up! Put it in your bathtub! Do anything...just don't let it go!
On the specific point of catch and release in North America, Australia, South Africa and everywhere else outside their native range, "Carpbusters" is right and the "American Carp Society" is wrong. Carp are not native to North America. They have appreciable negative effects on ecosystems where they are exotics. They have the potential to cause extinctions of endemic species and they may have already done so. They should be removed when doing so enhances the viability of the ecosystem they inhabit.
Yes, yes, common carp will always be with us. Of course, of course there are places they have accumulated too many toxins to be safe food. No, no, they are absolutely not native to North America after just a couple of hundred years. We are also not helpless to combat their effects. Anglers have the ability to deplete numbers of fish in ecosystems, even carp. In the case of common carp and other exotics, we should do so.
The primary focus of fisheries conservation should not be the pleasure of having one particular species pulling on your pole. The world is a bigger place than that and a responsible angler takes responsiblity for their actions. Conserving common carp populations outside their native range has serious potential to harm other species. No non-native fishery that detracts from the function and possibly the diversity of native fisheries and fish populations should be preserved through catch and release.
