Task force to examine fishing license revenue, budget shortfall
State sold fewer licenses in '08 after raising fees; officials must determine whether to renew legislation By Candus Thomson The Baltimore Sun
A move last year to bolster the budget of the state's Fisheries Service by doubling fishing license fees has backfired, leaving officials scrambling for money and ways to win back disgruntled anglers.
At a meeting of a task force convened by the General Assembly to improve fishing and fishing laws, an official acknowledged that a bill to increase revenues by about $2.3 million to pay for more staff and modernization of the service actually raised just $1.37 million.
"We're seeing behavioral changes," said Tom O'Connell, head of the Fisheries Service. "Anglers are not buying licenses or are buying short-term licenses. We're going to be looking at a budget reduction of $1 million in the coming years. We take this very seriously."
Last year, Maryland sold 341,527 freshwater and tidal water fishing licenses, but many people fish on charter boats or pleasure boats with a fishing decal, where a license is not needed. By comparison, the state sold 379,694 licenses in 2007.
The legislation that approved the increase in fishing license fees expires on July 30 next year, and the Fisheries Service must decide whether to ask the General Assembly to reauthorize the fee structure, cut its budget or find a new revenue source.
O'Connell told members of the Task Force on Fisheries Management that the Fisheries Service was hoping that a $50,000 analysis over the summer of angler attitudes and license fee structures would pinpoint ways to stop the defections. Responsive Management, a Virginia-based company, will compare Maryland's situation with states that have successful fishing programs and make recommendations that could be turned into legislation for next year.
"Do they look at cultural issues?" asked charter boat Capt. Brian Keehn. "Do we spend a lot of money to see if video games are killing the outdoors?"
Gina Hunt, a Fisheries Service official responded, "I don't think we can get rid of the video games, but we can build a product that will attract people."
State issues rockfish warning
Advisory for toxic PCBs extended to Atlantic waters By Meredith Cohn - The Baltimore Sun
Having already warned about eating rockfish caught in the Chesapeake Bay, the state now urges limited consumption of Atlantic rockfish, as they contain high levels of PCBs.
State officials warned Wednesday that people should restrict consumption of Atlantic striped bass - the state fish and one of the most popular with recreational anglers on Ocean City's beaches and charter boats, as well as with area restaurant diners.
The Maryland Department of the Environment issued the advisory for striped bass, also known as rockfish, and bluefish caught in coastal waters because they contain high levels of a banned toxic substance. People should not eat the fish more than once a month, the state said. Pregnant women, women of childbearing age, nursing mothers and children 6 and younger should avoid the fish altogether.
If consumers significantly cut back on the fish, the warning - a first for coastal waters - could have an economic impact on those who make a living taking weekend fishermen out on the ocean. It could also affect commercial fishermen, though the advisory does not officially extend to commercially caught fish; that is beyond the state's jurisdiction.
The news concerned Gary Beach, owner of the Marlin Moon Grille in West Ocean City, because all his striped bass comes from the Atlantic. His savvy customers won't order foods that have received negative publicity, but fish may be something of an exception because there are warnings for many kinds, including tuna for its high levels of mercury. In any case, striped bass wasn't on the menu Wednesday, so he couldn't gauge an immediate response from diners.
"Our guests' well-being is very important to us," he said. "We switch out ingredients all the time for safer ones. ... In this case, I'd say, I'd serve rockfish if they'd eat it. But everything in moderation."
That's also the message from state officials, who had previously advised consumers to eat striped bass caught in the Chesapeake Bay no more than about twice a month, and only the smaller fish that have absorbed fewer toxins.
The state acted in accord with other Eastern states in issuing the Atlantic advisory because the fish tested higher in polychlorinated biphenyls, or PCBs, classified as a neurotoxin and a probable human carcinogen.
Department of the Environment Science Services Director Rich Eskin said the fish are safe for most people in moderation. "We encourage people to keep fishing. Fish to your heart's content. Eat only some of it. And eat the smaller fish."
Eskin said the state will continue monitoring the fish and update advisories as needed.
Previous advisories applied only to the Chesapeake Bay, lakes and rivers because there wasn't sufficient information about coastal areas, he said.
Data sharing with other states led to the Atlantic's inclusion.
He said officials have found less contamination in fish caught in the bay - spawning ground for at least three quarters of all East Coast striped bass - than fish caught near New York and New Jersey, for example.
Because striped bass are highly migratory, there are fish with higher and lower levels of PCBs in the bay, but the average is still lower than Atlantic fish. The average would be lower for fish served in restaurants, as well, because they come from farms, the bay and the ocean.
Upon learning of the new advisory for the Atlantic fish, one veteran Ocean City charter boat captain was dismissive.
"Commercial fisherman are scooping up bluefish and they're still being bought and sold in markets. So, what are you going to do?" said Steve Peterson, who fishes three miles off the coast.
"They can print all they want about it, and I'm still going to eat them. It's a media thing. One day it's swine flu and then the next day it's something else."
Staff writers Frederick N. Rasmussen and Candus Thomson contributed to this article.
Our Bay: The search for perch
Volunteers monitor status of yellow perch in Severn River By PAMELA WOOD, Staff Writer- The Capital- HometownAnnapolis.com
Magnifying glass in hand, Catherine Stirling is an expert at spotting teeny-tiny yellow perch larvae.
She leans over a container full of Severn River water and trains her eyes on the various specks and dots floating in the water. She's looking for a nearly translucent critter with two black eyes.
"It's moving! We got another one!" she calls out to fellow volunteers aboard the Lady Echo who are conducting twice-weekly monitoring for the miniscule yellow perch larvae.
The volunteers, organized by the Arlington Echo Outdoor Education Center and the Severn Riverkeeper Program, will send their data to state biologists.
More often than not, their monitoring is turning up hardly any yellow perch larvae - a sign that something is going wrong in the reproduction process. Sometimes they find motionless, dead larvae.
In 2008, just 4 percent of the samples had any perch larvae. That's down from survey results that showed greater than 20 percent recorded in the past several years.
To look for yellow perch, a team of volunteers motors out to 10 sites in the Severn, from Round Bay heading north to where the river begins to narrow into Severn Run.
They've gone out twice a week for four weeks already, and will continue "until we stop seeing them," said Steve Barry, director of Arlington Echo and captain of the Lady Echo.
The team deploys a cone-shaped net with super-fine mesh behind the boat. A jar at the end collects the water and tiny critters trapped in the net during the two-minute trawl.
The contents are then dumped into a clear bucket and examined - sometimes using a magnifying glass, because the larvae are so small.
During a trip this week, the team struggled to find many perch larvae. Several samples came up empty.
But at the last site, far upstream on the river, they hit the jackpot. Vast amounts of tiny larvae wiggled at the surface, giving the water sample a shimmery cast.
"They're all over the place," said Stirling, who works for the Maryland League of Conservation Voters.
Pierre Henkart, who also volunteers with the Severn Riverkeeper's water-quality testing program, was impressed.
"I think this is about the best haul I've seen," he said. "They're just all over the place."
The volunteers estimated perhaps two dozen yellow perch larvae, a good sign.
Stressed species
The struggling yellow perch population has received some special attention in the Severn recently. Yellow perch are a striking fish with yellow and green bands, found in mostly fresh water. It's often the first fish caught by anglers in the spring.
The first-ever report card for the Severn River issued this spring gave the yellow perch its own grade, and it wasn't a good one: an F.
Even though there are concerns about the reproduction of yellow perch in the Severn, the Maryland Department of Natural Resources recently reopened the river and other rivers on the Western Shore to limited recreational fishing this spring for the first time in years.
DNR fisheries officials are convinced the adult yellow perch population is robust enough - and reproducing enough baby fish in other rivers - that it can support a certain amount of fishing in Anne Arundel's rivers.
The decision earned mixed reviews from environmentalists and fishermen. Some said they don't think there are enough fish to support reopening the fishery. Others said if more people are catching yellow perch, they might become invested in improving the health of the rivers.
Officials are keeping an eye on how the fishing for yellow perch works out. In addition to reviewing citizen monitoring data on the yellow perch eggs and larvae, the DNR conducts its own seine surveys for juvenile fish.
Several factors could be influencing the yellow perch's problems. Some could be simple factors in nature, such as the weather not being ideal for successful egg hatching.
Others could be caused by humans: sediment washing down from the land can coat and smother perch eggs, which hang in the water for several days before hatching.
Barry from Arlington Echo wondered if septic systems might be leaching human drugs into the water that could affect reproduction.
Barry's staff also monitors the status of eggs in the Severn before they hatch. They used to collect the eggs and send them out to schools for children to raise in their classrooms, but so few eggs were successful that Arlington Echo has largely switched to eels instead.
Arlington Echo still collects some eggs - the center has a special state permit to do so - and monitors them in tanks. This year, most eggs failed, Barry said.
"The science is clear, this is a stressed species," he said.
Effective January 26, 2009 the new recreational yellow perch regulation states a 9 inch minimum and 10 fish creel limit statewide.
Big Rock, Big Concerns
By Angus Phillips - The Washington Post
Call it the rockfish season that never ends. Right up till the end of the year, Chesapeake Bay anglers are hauling in the biggest striped bass you've ever seen.
The one that recently caught my eye was the 65-pounder caught by Joseph Hedges of Annapolis, who checked in the massive rock (the local name for stripers) at Anglers Sporting Goods. They snapped a photo in the parking lot that quickly found its way into the local paper. Crikey, what a whopper!
Hedges has a huge grin, as befits a fellow who just caught a fish of a lifetime just 2 1/2 pounds shy of the state record. The rockfish looks, well, not so happy to be there.
Call me Scrooge, but it troubles me that sportfishermen continue to enthusiastically catch and keep these huge fish, almost all roe-laden females heading back to the Chesapeake from the ocean to lurk in deep holes, then swim up tributaries in March and April to spawn the next generation of the designated Maryland state fish.
The state's recreational rockfish season was scheduled to end Dec. 15 this year, but the Department of Natural Resources announced an extension through the end of the year. I buttonholed DNR Secretary John Griffin one night to ask why. He didn't have a ready answer, but shrugged when someone suggested it was "good for business."
Haven't we been down this road? For those who don't remember, striped bass got so scarce in the early 1980s after decades of overfishing, the state imposed a five-year moratorium in 1985 to keep them from disappearing altogether. Griffin was deputy secretary when that wrenching decision was made, so he certainly hasn't forgotten.
Rockfish now are back in abundance in these, their prime breeding waters, and every year the pressure builds to extend the seasons, ease regulations and make the landscape more inviting for exploitation, both commercial and recreational.
Nobody's immune to the attraction of catching a huge rock. When Tom Weaver and Dick Neville invited me along last week for a frigid Sunday morning of trolling off Kent Island, where many big 'uns have been boated, I jumped at the chance, then puzzled over how I might persuade my hosts to release a whopper if we were lucky enough to catch one.
It didn't come up. We had just one solid strike and that fish spat the hook. Once we'd scraped the ice off the cockpit floor, we enjoyed a pleasant day riding around in Neville's speedy Eastport 32, quaffed plenty of coffee laced with a bit of rum and were home in time for the football games.
On Thursday, New Year's Day, rockfish season finally closes and stripers will be safe from recreational anglers in all Maryland and Virginia portions of the Chesapeake, at least until trophy season reopens in April. But a very productive fishery just offshore stays up and running.
For a decade or so, fishing for big rock in the ocean just off the mouth of the Bay has been booming, and those waters remain open all winter. Last January off Virginia Beach, Fred Barnes of Chesapeake, Va., set that state's record for rockfish with a 73-pounder. Thousands of other lunker rock were taken by boats fishing within three miles of the shore, as permitted under the regulations.
Many charter boats targeting these fish work out of Virginia Beach Fishing Center on Rudee Inlet. Anglers are allowed to keep two fish a day over 28 inches, which means a charter boat carrying six people can load up with 16 rock (two for each angler, two each for captain and mate) weighing an average of perhaps 25 or 30 pounds. That's 400-500 pounds of rockfish.
Does that make any sense?
Apparently it does to the Virginia Marine Resources Commission, which has shown little interest in tightening rules to conserve the resource. Anglers, however, and even charter skippers increasingly see it from a different angle.
"A lot of our customers are not keeping their fish, and we're totally cool with that," said skipper Mike Standing, who runs the charter boat Waterman out of the Virginia Beach Fishing Center. "We figure the more fish we have out there, the better off we are."
Standing said many of his clients book catch-and-release, light-tackle and flyfishing outings and don't even bother bringing a cooler. They might catch 25 or 30 big rock and put them all back alive.
He said big stripers frequently churn the surface off Rudee Inlet under flocks of diving gannets and seagulls in the winter and readily take surface lures or shallow-running flies.
Asked if the weather knocks out a lot of fishing days, he said no. "In the winter, most of our wind comes from the west, so we're protected in close to the beach. It can be blowing 30 knots and it's still calm close to shore."
If it all sounds too good to be true, well, it probably is. But it's better than sitting home staring at the tube, so I'm planning to book a trip. No cooler, though. When it comes to big rockfish, the only thing I'll take home is a photo.
That's my New Year's resolution.
Md. officials should throw lifeline to depleted stock of brook trout
Candus Thomson - On the Outdoors - The Baltimore Sun
Right now, there are worse things than being a Maryland brook trout, I suppose.
A Republican strategist. A Ford salesman. A Detroit Lions fan.
At some point, presumably, all of the humans will bounce back.
But the clock is running down on the fate of Salvelinus fontinalis.
Study after study show brook trout are in trouble through no fault of their own. Brookies love cold water, clear water and lots of little critters floating by to eat. But overdevelopment, loss of buffers and habitat, and climate change are proving to be the trifecta of doom.
Every time we force a stream through a culvert to make way for another shopping center and megaplex, every time a planning board approves more sprawl, every time we decide to build another ribbon of asphalt for cars, we are signing another death warrant for brook trout.
The problem is not new. Sixteen years ago, my colleague, Tim Wheeler, wrote a story about saving brook trout streams in Baltimore and Anne Arundel counties. At that time, the state was paying $260,000 to restore two stretches of water, Jabez Branch in Anne Arundel County and Goodwin Run near Timonium.
Nice story as long as you don't flash forward to 2008 and a new study by the Department of Natural Resources.
Biologists compiled more than three decades of aerial photos and ground surveys to show that brook trout have lost their fin-hold in six streams in the Baltimore area: Baisman Run in Cockeysville, Sawmill Branch near Phoenix, Stillwater Creek near Eldersburg, Timber Run near Reisterstown, Red Run in Owings Mills and, oh yes, Goodwin Run.
As for Jabez Branch (not part of the study), one day last year volunteers hauled out 7.5 tons of trash - 10 truckloads - from stream side.
The DNR study follows one done several years ago by the Eastern Brook Trout Joint Venture that found that more than half of Maryland sub-watersheds have lost brook trout entirely, and only three sub-watersheds - all in western Maryland - have intact populations.
So all these smart people are telling us there's a problem. What's the solution?
Scott Stranko, the biologist who led the DNR study, hopes to poke the massive Annapolis bureaucracy into action to help protect what's left. That's no small task in the face of shrinking budgets and frozen government.
"Restoration is so expensive, and it doesn't get things back to the way they were before," Stranko says. "Once you've lost brook trout in a stream, I don't know how you get them back. You have to make the water cooler, remove the sediment and repair the stream banks. Isn't it cheaper to do conservation?"
For starters, perhaps the O'Malley administration could divert some of the Program Open Space money being used to buy bleachers and tennis courts to purchase land around some of the streams that still have brookies. Or maybe the Maryland Department of the Environment could put protecting so-called "stronghold watersheds" near the top of the list.
"This is a big deal for me," says Stranko, 40, who has spent a large portion of his professional life documenting the loss of Maryland's critters. "You can go anywhere and catch a blue gill or a carp. Where can you go to catch a native brook trout in Maryland?"
Officials Hail Find of More Than 160 Snakeheads
By Megan Greenwell- Washington Post Staff Writer- Sept. 4th, 2008
State officials said this week that the discovery of more than 160 snakeheads near Mattawoman Creek represents a major victory in the battle against the toothy predators known as Frankenfish.
The snakeheads were found last week by Gary Owen, a Charles County sheriff's corporal, who was leading a news crew to the spot where a homicide victim was found in 1980. He discovered the 167 fish -- a male, a pregnant female and 165 swimming babies -- alive in two puddles under a tree stump off Sharpersville Road.
The fish were killed by Maryland Department of Natural Resources officials and taken to a lab for examination.
The Asian-bred fish are some of the most dangerous predators of native species in the Potomac River and its tributaries, and they have been in the Potomac since at least 2002. But the discovery near the Mattawoman, which flows into the Potomac, was the largest in Maryland, state officials said.
"This was an important catch, especially since we got the babies before they could spawn," said Mary Groves, southern regional manager for the fisheries program of the state Department of Natural Resources. "They reproduce so quickly that they can go from a small population to a large population very quickly."
Snakeheads have become ingrained in the minds of many Washington area residents since they were first found in a Crofton pond about six years ago. The fish can grow to up to four feet long and 15 pounds and survive on dry land for up to four days, scientists say. Those who catch snakefish are required to kill them immediately. Groves said transporting the fish or releasing them into the water is illegal.
John Gill, a fisheries biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, said the Mattawoman find was a victory for scientists hoping to contain the snakeheads, which can produce up to 18,000 babies in a lifetime. The female fish was carrying a full load of eggs, which were also destroyed.
"Right now we're just trying to limit the expansion of the snakefish," Gill said.
Scott Sewell, who often fishes the Mattawoman for bass and is conservation director of the Maryland Bass Foundation, said that he had heard of someone catching a snakefish in the Mattawoman but that the scale of last week's discovery surprised him.
The Mattawoman is considered one of the best spots for bass fishing on the East Coast, raising concern among its fans about harm from the snakefish. The fish eat smaller bass and prey on the same fish as large-mouth bass, prompting worries that the bass population could be depleted by the nonnative predators.
"We feel that this is posing a threat to one of the best bass fisheries around, and it seems like the scientists have resigned themselves that the snakefish are here to stay," Sewell said. "We will kill every one that we see."
A good Snakehead is a DEAD Snakehead Gear
Anyone who catches a fish that they think is a northern snakehead is asked to kill it humanely with a blow to the head, then give the fish to one of the following agencies: Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries
In state: (800) 770-4951
Out-of-state: (804) 367-1258.
Maryland Department of Natural Resources
In state: (410) 260-8320
Out-of-state: (877) 520-8DNR, ext. 8230
Record Largemouth Bass Caught In Potomac Above Wilson Bridge
Angus Phillips - Washington Post Reporter
A Howard County angler caught Maryland's biggest largemouth bass last weekend in the Spoils area of the Potomac just above Wilson Bridge in Prince George's County.
Justin Riley of Woodbine was fishing in an Angler's Choice tournament out of Marshall Hall on Saturday when he hooked and landed the 11-pound 2.88-ounce lunker in 20 feet of water, according to Keith Lockwood of the state Department of Natural Resources, who certified the record.
Riley, a regular on the local tournament circuit, was fishing with his father, Ed. They won three categories in the tournament, Lockwood said. Riley kept the bass in his boat's live well and later donated it to the Bass Pro Shop in Hanover, which has a big display tank on the showroom floor.
Bass Pro officials said the bass is doing well but won't go on display for about a month, after completing a stint in quarantine. The fish was two pounds bigger than the Maryland record tidewater bass, a 9-pound 1-ounce fish caught in the Pocomoke River in 1975, and less than an ounce heavier than the freshwater record, an 11-pound 2-ouncer caught in a farm pond in 1983.
Artificial reef makes good Point
Candus Thomson - The Baltimore Sun
The deck of Capt. Greg Madjeski's boat, from cabin to stern, was decorated in wet suits, dry suits, oxygen bottles and high-tech camera equipment.
Rain, in the forecast, ringed the boat in the distance but never approached. Thank goodness for the anti-shower curtain (Bass Pro Shops catalog No. 110912).
Nick Caloyianis, diver and underwater videographer extraordinaire, and his partner, Clarita Berger, volunteered their time and gear. Michael Eversmier, owner of Aqua Ventures, the dive shop in Cockeysville, brought his underwater still camera. Marty Gary, the Department of Natural Resources' reef point man, brought a submarine sandwich big enough to feed the Atlantic fleet.
But most importantly, Mike Baker brought the reef makings - nearly 30,000 tons of concrete slabs - over the previous months.
After setting markers and raising the dive flag, Madjeski maneuvered his boat over the site and buried the anchor to create a stable diving platform.
"Here we go on our excellent Chesapeake Bay adventure," Caloyianis said as he splashed into the drink followed by Berger and Eversmier for a quick scouting mission. Less than 10 minutes later, they popped to the surface.
"The visibility is, of course, horrible," Caloyianis announced. "I think we'd only see a fish if it ran into my face."
Undaunted, he reached for his $200,000 high-definition camera and, joined by Baker and Gary, disappeared again.
But even with the high murk factor, the divers returned with photos of mussels and fish and sea squirts - small yellowish globs that act as filter feeders. Gary did a little show and tell, handing me several oysters almost the size of my fist.
Yet despite signs of life, Berger expressed disappointment at the conditions down under, which resembled chocolate pudding mix.
"This is so sad. We've been diving in the bay since 1976. Then, you could see 30 feet. You'd think you were in the Bahamas. Now, all we see is silt, silt, silt."
Hoping for some clarity, Madjeski moved his boat to the other end of the reef. Visibility improved along with everyone's mood. This time, they saw stripers, a small sea bass and porgies along with oysters.
"That was a feast for the eye," Berger said.
Little by little, these small pockets of fish and oyster habitat are springing from the bottom of the Chesapeake Bay. Guided by the Maryland Artificial Reef Initiative, a nonprofit group, sites are being explored and selected.
Surprisingly, Point No Point and the next three projects - Cedar Point, The Gooses and Tangier Sound - were easy. Reef material came down the Potomac River from the Woodrow Wilson Bridge construction site to be dumped. Donations flowed into the fund from corporations and local groups, and the state promised $500,000 through a bond bill.
But the honeymoon is over.
The bridge construction site is down to its last dozen or so barge loads, so getting more material will require scouting and, perhaps bidding against salvage companies. MARI is going through growing pains, talking about new sites before having a business plan and a marketing plan. Donations are trickling in, there is no 2008 fundraising plan and the fundraising committee lacks a chairman. Making things worse, the $500,000 bond bill is entangled in the kind of legalese and outright stubbornness that only Annapolis could love, and DNR management seems unconcerned that contractors aren't getting paid.
Adding insult to injury, some of the MARI partners - the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, for example - haven't even bothered to put a link to the MARI Web site on their Web site.
Time out: The foundation, with an annual budget exceeding $17 million and more than 100,000 paying members, hasn't given a dime to MARI, even though the chairmanship is held by a foundation employee. That employee, Bill Goldsborough, said it was clear from the beginning that the foundation's contribution was always going to be "in kind." If fishermen and charter boat captains can write checks, would it kill CBF to make a cash donation?
St
"It takes time. You can't give up," counseled Caloyianis, who has dived on countless reefs around the world. "In a few seasons, these reefs are going to be dressed in the Chesapeake Bay's finest."
Buy A Ton- Click to make your tax-deductible contribution to MARI.
Buy A Ton- Click to make your tax-deductible contribution to MARI.
All donations less bank charges and credit card fees go directly to reef projects approved by the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) after consultation with the Artificial Reef Committee and the Sport Fish and Tidal Fish Advisory Commissions.
Rare catch could spawn resurgence of sturgeon in bay
By Tom Pelton - Baltimore Sun reporter
A dinosaur-era fish might experience a rebirth in the Chesapeake Bay.
For the first time in three decades, scientists have found a mature female Atlantic sturgeon full of eggs in the bay, where the species was thought to be nearly extinct.
The 7 1/2 -foot-long, 170-pound behemoth - with sharp bony plates along its back, sandpaper-like hide and a blubbery sucker mouth - was accidentally netted by a fisherman at the mouth of the Choptank River near Tilghman Island on April 29.
He turned it over to the Maryland Department of Natural Resources for a $50 reward. Now biologists hope to fertilize the eggs in a University of Maryland lab at Horn Point to produce perhaps 50,000 young sturgeon for release.
For 11 years, researchers have been holding males in tanks with the hope of someday finding a mate. Now the long-awaited courtship can begin.
"This is the first ripe female we've ever found," said Brian Richardson, a program manager at the state DNR. "It's very rare. ... Ultimately our goal is to reproduce these fish and stock them."
If the operation this month is successful, it will be the first wild Chesapeake Bay sturgeon bred in captivity, according to the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science.
Sturgeon, a slow-reproducing fish that can live a century and grow to hundreds of pounds, were abundant in the Chesapeake and elsewhere until they were driven nearly to extinction by the caviar industry at the end of the 19th century. Their salty eggs were in high demand as an expensive delicacy.
Many biologists in Maryland assumed they were gone from state waters by the 1990s, with silt pollution making it difficult for the fish to rebound even after catching them was outlawed.
But starting in 1996, the Maryland natural resources agency has been offering cash rewards of $50 or $100 to watermen who turned them in. Most are tagged and released. Over the past decade, the numbers have varied widley but have slowly moved upward - from 13 in 1996, to 248 in 1998, 56 in 2000, 250 in 2005 and a record 450 last year, according to DNR figures.
The sturgeon aren't anywhere near recovery, and they probably aren't even breeding in the Chesapeake Bay yet, said Steve Minkkinen, a fisheries biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Most of the fish caught so far in the estuary have been young, with no spawning-age females or newly hatched sturgeon.
But the capture of a record number in the bay last year suggests they are probably breeding in the Hudson River, Delaware Bay and James River and then migrating to the Chesapeake to feed, Minkkinen said.
"It's exciting. This is an indication that there is at least some reproduction going on in the East Coast," Minkkinen said. "And it shows that the Chesapeake Bay's water quality and habitat is still good enough to support these subadult fish."
Elsewhere in North America, small numbers of sturgeon of different species have been reappearing in Lake Saint Clair in Canada, the Detroit River in Michigan and Minnesota's Lake of the Woods.
In Rock Bluff, Fla., last weekend, a 32-year-old woman was knocked unconscious by a leaping sturgeon while she was boating on the Suwannee River.
That kind of violence is not normal for the slow-moving, half-blind species, which lacks teeth and uses hose-like mouth parts to suck up worms and mollusks.
A panel of scientists recently recommended that the Atlantic sturgeon be considered a threatened species, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is expected to make a decision on the listing this summer.
"There is some evidence that Atlantic sturgeon may be doing better, especially in the Hudson River" in New York, said Jerre Mohler, fisheries biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. "But it's really difficult to get a handle on sturgeon populations because they are not easy to monitor."
The federal wildlife agency has been breeding wild Atlantic sturgeon caught in the Hudson River at the Northeast Fishery Center in Lamar, Pa., since 1993.
In Maryland, about 70 sturgeon from that Pennsylvania center have been kept by state biologists in tanks near the Chalk Point power plant in Prince George's County.
An additional 55 sturgeon, caught by watermen in the Chesapeake Bay, are being monitored in 17 tanks and two ponds in Cambridge, at the Horn Point Laboratory of the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science.
The 7.5-foot-long female sturgeon was caught in the Choptank River this spring by a local waterman, C.R. Wilson, and was lifted out of the boat by a crane. The fish, roughly 12 years old, was hauled to the Horn Point lab by a state truck with a specially designed tank.
Andy Lazur, an aquaculture specialist at the lab, said he has been carefully monitoring the sturgeon's eggs to determine when they are at the right stage for fertilization.
Visitors to the tank are limited because they don't want stress to ruin the pregnancy, he said.
Sometime in the next two weeks or so, Lazur said, he and a team of colleagues from the state and federal wildlife agencies will remove the eggs from the sturgeon by making a small surgical incision. Then they will sew up the fish so she can survive and be released back into the bay, he said.
Her eggs will be fertilized with sperm from males in captivity. If all goes well, as many as 50,000 young sturgeon could hatch. In a few years, a new generation could be released into the Potomac, Choptank and Nanticoke rivers, although those plans haven't yet been finalized, Lazur said.
It's too early to tell whether this breeding effort will help lead to a sturgeon resurgence. "But," said Lazur, "there is a glimmer of hope and some good news."
New Maryland State Record Striped Bass
Gary Smith caught this 57 lb 4 oz, 30 inch girth and 53 inches long, record breaking striper off the Assateague surf early in the morning on Saturday May 6th.
Grasses' revival a bright spot for bay
A recent surge of aquatic vegetation and reprieve from damaging runoff have resulted in the cleanest water in decades in the Susquehanna Flats area of the Chesapeake.
By Candus Thomson- Baltimore Sun Staff
HAVRE DE GRACE -- Just five months ago, the water coursing over the Conowingo Dam and into the confluence of the Susquehanna River and Chesapeake Bay was a chocolate brown slick of muck visible from outer space.
Today, the water is gin clear, a picture window on the creatures below.
Baby striped bass dart from grass clump to grass clump as catfish the size of a man's forearm cruise by. Largemouth bass lurk at the edge of an underwater hedge of green, waiting for dinner to swim along. A wader can reach the bottom and grab a fistful of freshwater clams.
"It's as good as it can get," says Capt. Mike Benjamin, a fishing guide on the upper Chesapeake. "On a scale of 1 to 10, it's a 20 when compared to 20 years ago."
For the second year in a row, the aquatic vegetation in the area known as Susquehanna Flats is like a Kansas cornfield in midsummer. A six-week dry spell has given the bay grasses a reprieve from damaging runoff, allowing thick islands of plants to cover more than 10,000 acres -- about three times the size of Baltimore-Washington International Airport.
But unlike last year, this year's crop has ushered in a level of water clarity not seen in decades. The plants are slowing the flow of river water and straining sediment.
"They're acting just like a big aquarium filter," says Benjamin.
At a time when oxygen-starved dead zones in the Chesapeake are the talk of environmentalists and fishermen, the discovery of clean water teeming with life is a small but welcome sign.
"What we're seeing is a peek at what the bay could look like if all of our [cleanup] strategies were adopted," says Mike Naylor, a biologist with the state Department of Natural Resources.
Susquehanna Flats is Maryland's welcome mat to the Chesapeake Bay. Topographically, it is an upside-down bowl in the bay nestled between Harford and Cecil counties, with depths ranging from a few inches to a few feet. Around the rim is a channel of deeper water.
"The Flats," as locals and fishermen call it, is in the middle of the East Coast's largest striped bass spawning ground. In spring, its surface is covered with fishing boats filled with anglers kicking off a new season. In late fall, hunters go "body booting," hunkering down in chest-high waders amid their decoys, waiting for ducks and geese to fly over.
But its location and shallowness also make the area easy pickings for harsh weather. The low point came in 1972, when floodwaters from Hurricane Agnes uprooted and killed as many as two-thirds of all the bay's grass beds.
Last summer, scientists announced a resurgence of grasses in this small portion of the upper bay, crediting a reduction in farm runoff in Pennsylvania and Maryland and fewer spills from sewage treatment plants. But weeks later, the remnants of Hurricane Ivan dumped up to a half-foot of rain on the Susquehanna watershed, forcing the operators of the Conowingo Dam to open 33 of its 50 floodgates. Debris scoured the grass beds, and floodwaters dumped up to a foot of silt where the plants had been.
"I thought it was all gone," says Benjamin. "No grass beds, no fish, no ducks. It was depressing."
This spring, it was more of the same, when heavy rains churned up enough sediment and debris to leave a dark brown streak from Harrisburg, Pa., to just below Kent Island that was visible on satellite imagery.
But the weather settled down, as did the runoff that fueled the growth of sunlight-blocking algae. The grasses surged, giving scientists hope that the upper bay is within striking distance of the recorded high of 13,000 acres reached in 1952.
"When we don't get runoff, the bay shows its resilience. The grasses stabilize the bottom and you put the system back in balance," says Bill Goldsborough, senior scientist for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation.
But getting back to 1950s levels won't be easy, Naylor cautions. Extreme weather, poor land use and failure of sewage treatment plants hinder growth. Some dock owners complain that the vegetation fouls boat propellers and want DNR's permission to apply weed killer.
"The beds aren't going to keep spreading out on their own," Naylor says. "If we can increase water clarity by just a few inches, we can increase the beds by hundreds of acres."
The Department of Natural Resources continues its outreach through its Web site www.eyesonthebay.net, but as he stands on a small boat, looking down at the clear water, Naylor offers another strategy.
"If all the people who enjoy being in and on the bay could see this," he says, "they would demand that the rest of the bay look like this."
Piscatorial Quiz
Test your piscatorial knowledge, do you know what these terms mean?
The deck of Capt. Greg Madjeski's boat, from cabin to stern, was decorated in wet suits, dry suits, oxygen bottles and high-tech camera equipment.
