Bonefish & Tarpon Journal - Spring 2021

JOURNAL BONEFISH&TARPON

Oh ! The Places They Take You ...

Partners In Preserving The Fish And The Places They Roam.

Features

12 New Depths

Scientists achieve the first captive bonefish spawn in history. Alexandra Marvar

22 Project Permit

The decade-long project has been instrumental to permit conservation. T. Edward Nickens

40 Healthy Habitats or Bust

BTT works to protect and restore habitats vital to the health of the flats fishery. Dr. Aaron Adams and JoEllen Wilson

48 Norman Duncan

The angler turned engineer helped advance fly-fishing in South Florida waters. Monte Burke

56 The Sargassum Dilemma

Sargassum blooms are fast becoming the new normal and impacting the flats fishery. Michael Adno

68 The Dawn of Fly

Legendary Bahamian guides pioneered the fishery and left their mark on the sport. T. Edward Nickens

Setting the Hook

From the Chairman and the President

Our knowledge of flats species and habitats has grown exponentially over recent years, enabling Bonefish & Tarpon Trust to also take conservation action at an accelerating pace.

As this issue of the BTT Journal goes to press, we celebrate passage of a new regulation to protect spawning permit in the Lower Keys. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) passed the measure in February, instituting a new four-month, no-fishing closure at Western Dry Rocks, the most important permit spawning site in the region. BTT’s role in the initiative was significant, providing the science as well as leading a year-long campaign that shone a bright light on a growing risk to the permit fishery, namely the loss to predation of large numbers of angled permit massed at Western Dry Rocks to spawn.

This is the latest accomplishment in the remarkable Project Permit, a study that now spans more than a decade. What began as a mark-recapture project to track permit movements later evolved into acoustic telemetry, a technology that has since allowed researchers to compile an astounding 1.5 million “pings” that map when, where and how the species is moving.

In the early years, and in response to growing concerns about declines in the permit population, Project Permit provided data that prompted FWC in 2011 to establish Florida’s Special Permit Zone—a zone encompassing state and federal waters that are closed April-July to protect spawning permit. But with concerns still high about threats to the population, BTT set out in 2018 to look more closely at the fate of permit spawning at Western Dry Rocks. The findings were sobering. More than one-third of all angled permit observed during the study were lost to shark predation, making even a catch-and-release fishery unsustainable.

BTT’s successful campaign was a true team effort! We thank the Lower Keys Guides Association, the many conservation organizations that joined with us, and the countless anglers and guides who lent their voices to the call for improved management at Western Dry Rocks. You can read more about Project Permit and its many accomplishments in the excellent article penned in this issue by T. Edward Nickens, Editor-at-Large for Field & Stream and frequent contributor to Garden & Gun.

Carl Navarre, Chairman

Jim McDuffie, President

Spawning is also the focus of innovative bonefish research projects at BTT. After several years of painstaking research, our scientists and collaborating researchers at FAU’s Harbor Branch Institute made headlines last October with the world’s first spawn of captive bonefish. This is the latest, and by far the most significant, breakthrough in BTT’s spawning research programs.

We still field the occasional question about our intent with this pioneering research project, the subject here of a fascinating article by Alexandra Marvar. The answer is simple: science! BTT is discovering and compiling volumes of new information about bonefish reproductive biology and spawning behavior that was unknown to science only a few years ago. We will use this information to advance the conservation of wild bonefish. For example, we are learning about the reproductive process and the conditions required for effective spawning in the wild. And soon we will be able to use juvenile bonefish raised in captivity to explore an array of important research questions, from the characteristics of ideal juvenile habitat to how bonefish respond to changing environmental conditions, such as compromised water quality. Taken together, these efforts will help BTT achieve its mission of conserving the species—in the wild

The challenges facing bonefish today are complex and interconnected, so our efforts must also go beyond these landmark spawning studies. BTT remains engaged in a suite of research projects in 2021 that include the search for bonefish spawning aggregations and juvenile bonefish habitats in the Florida Keys, the restoration of critical habitats in the Bahamas destroyed by Hurricane Dorian or altered by human development, and understanding the impacts of contaminants and disease on bonefish. The more we learn about contaminants, the greater the urgency for BTT to advocate for state and federal policies that will improve wastewater infrastructure and address a range of issues affecting water quality.

As 2021 unfolds, you will find BTT working on these and many other initiatives, in Florida and across the Caribbean, that aim to conserve flats species and habitats. We thank you for your support and advocacy, which have helped us achieve so much in the past year, and we look forward to what we will accomplish together in 2021.

Offshore Aquaculture Threatens Our Fisheries

In October 2020, the eastern Gulf of Mexico came a step closer to becoming a new hotbed for offshore finfish cage aquaculture when the federal Environmental Protection Agency granted a permit for the dumping of up to 80,000 pounds of waste into the Gulf. This is the first step for Ocean Era, Inc. (formerly Kampachi Farms) to grow 20,000 almaco jack in a cage 45 miles off the coast of Sarasota. The next step is to obtain a permit from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to operate the fish farm. Although this is proposed as an experimental project, it is poised to set a precedent with potentially dire consequences for the region’s recreational and commercial fisheries.

More than a year before EPA took this step, BTT participated in a workshop in Sarasota where information about this proposed fish farm and the bigger ambitions of those promoting the Gulf for offshore cage aquaculture were presented. Following that workshop, BTT issued a statement opposing these emerging aquaculture plans via the public comment process and citing a list of threats to Florida’s valuable recreational fisheries. Among them:

• Fish farms create a lot of waste, which increases the amount of nutrients in the water. Florida’s Gulf Coast is already susceptible to red tides, which have been enhanced by increases in humanintroduced nutrients in coastal waters. Red tide events tend to start offshore and work their way inshore, so adding nutrients to the offshore system is just asking for trouble. Plus, what happens when a red tide occurs in the area where the fish cage is anchored? The caged fish will be just as susceptible to being killed by the red tide as native fish. If they die of red tide, how will the fish farm dispose of them?

• The presence of large fish cages in offshore waters will aggregate native fish, essentially acting as a Fish Attracting Device. For species that are already overfished, such as cobia and amberjack, this will increase harvest, further damaging these stocks. For tarpon, the presence of these structures will potentially alter seasonal and spawning migrations. In addition, fish cages attract sharks. If these cages are placed in areas important to tarpon migrations or spawning, we expect this will increase shark predation of tarpon during this important time.

• Fish farms often use a lot of pharmaceuticals to keep diseases at bay. Disease is a concern because the high abundance of fish in cages required to make a profit means the fish are more likely to experience disease outbreaks. These pharmaceuticals get into the ecosystem, with negative consequences to wild native fish. And when the inevitable diseases do break out among the farmed fish, they often impact native fish, which can also be infected by parasites that thrive in such crowded conditions.

• The eastern Gulf of Mexico is too shallow for these operations to be safe from hurricanes. Given that the region is a high frequency hurricane region, this makes the area unsuitable for such offshore operations. The standard practice is to sink the cages to the bottom when storms approach. The Gulf of Mexico is too shallow for this to be effective—the current resulting from the hurricane winds will easily reach the bottom at the fish farm location, approximately 100 feet deep. In fact, when asked this at the June 2019 workshop, the consultant representing aquaculture interests responded that “there is not a safe place in the Gulf” relative to hurricanes.

At the workshop, a fish farm was also proposed for the Florida Panhandle. This area is even more prone to hurricanes. Remember Hurricane Michael, for example? And the proposed cages will be in even shallower water than the farm being installed off Sarasota.

Companies proposing fish farms have yet to demonstrate any shouldering of responsibility for the potential negative impacts of their operations to local fisheries or environment. What if the farm causes a disease outbreak that impacts an economically important fishery, or increases shark impacts on tarpon spawning? What if the waste from the farm enhances a red tide bloom? Who will compensate the people who depend on the fishery for a living?

Unfortunately, this interest in offshore aquaculture isn’t just confined to Florida’s Gulf coast, but is being promoted to varying degrees in other locations with negative implications for tarpon and other economically important fish species. Instead of risking the fisheries that rely on healthy water and habitats, funding and research should focus on improving land-based culture where nutrients, contaminants, and other threats can be controlled.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Tippets

Short Takes on Important Topics

BTT RELEASES FLORIDA LICENSE PLATE

Ride in style! BTT is excited to announce the new Bonefish & Tarpon Trust specialty license plate for the State of Florida. Presale vouchers to purchase the plate will be available this spring at tax collector offices and license plate agencies statewide. 3,000 vouchers must be sold by October 15, 2022 in order for the plate to be produced. When the quota is met, production will begin. Stay tuned to BTT social media and our monthly newsletter for more details.

7TH INTERNATIONAL SCIENCE SYMPOSIUM

Mark your calendar and make plans to attend the Bonefish & Tarpon Trust 7th International Science Symposium and Flats Expo on November 12 - 13, 2021, at the Bonaventure Resort & Spa in Weston, Florida. This special two-day event will bring together stakeholders from across the world of flats fishing—anglers, guides, industry leaders, government agencies, scientists, outdoor writers, authors and artists. The 2021 program will include presentations on major research findings along with spin and fly casting clinics, fly tying clinics, panel discussions with top anglers and guides, art and photography, and a special banquet honoring legendary anglers Sandy Moret and Chico Fernandez and BTT Research Fellow Dr. Andy Danylchuk for their contributions to flats fishery conservation. The Symposium will also feature an expanded Flats Fishing Expo, where sponsors will have a bright spotlight to share information about their products and corporate commitment to conservation. Visit BTT.org to register.

PETERSON JOINS SJRWMD BOARD

Chris Peterson, owner of Hell’s Bay Boatworks and a longtime member of the BTT Board of Directors, has been appointed to the Governing Board of the St. Johns River Water Management District by Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. “We congratulate Chris,” said BTT President Jim McDuffie. “We know Florida’s water resources and fisheries will benefit from his wealth of knowledge and experience.”

MOSSY OAK FISHING RENEWS SPONSORSHIP

Mossy Oak Fishing, the Official Camo of Conservation, has renewed its support of Bonefish & Tarpon Trust as a Gold Corporate Sponsor. Mossy Oak Fishing’s Element Agua pattern is the official pattern of BTT. Beyond the water, Mossy Oak Fishing provides anglers with entertainment and information to fuel their passion year-round. Anglers can view an inspiring and educational blend of flats fishing content from Bonefish & Tarpon Trust on Mossy Oak GO, a free streaming app on all major streaming platforms.

CALLING ALL YOUTH ANGLERS!

The future of our oceans is in the hands of the next generation of anglers and conservationists. The Bonefish & Tarpon Trust Youth Ambassadors Program recognizes outstanding young leaders in flats fishing and ocean conservation. If you or someone you know would like to participate, please visit BTT.org/ambassadors to learn more.

The Bonefish & Tarpon Trust Florida license plate features art by Derek DeYoung.

It’s All Home Water.

Fishing Isn’t Free

Wild fish and clean water come with a price—activism. We pay it forward during river cleanups and dam protests. We kick in for conservation, we keep fish wet and we vote for our home water. We organize, show up and raise our voices. We invest in a planet where it will always be possible to experience a wild, beautiful thing.

We Stand for the Waters We Stand In

Their survival is our angling future.

Wild juvenile steelhead jockey for position in Washington State’s Elwha River, which saw

the removal of two dams in 2014—part of the largest dam removal project in history.

JOHN MCMILLAN © 2021 Patagonia, Inc.

BTT CALLS FOR BETTER PLAN IN BELIZE DREDGING PROJECT

Bonefish & Tarpon Trust joined others in opposing the planned Cargo Expansion and Construction of Cruise Terminal & Cruise Tourism Village in Belize City. As presently planned, the project would dump five million cubic meters of dredge spoil in coastal waters of Belize, likely impacting seagrasses, corals, and other habitats, as well as fish that depend on these habitats. The plumes from dredging would also negatively impact nearshore fisheries in Central Belize. At press time, the Belize government was once again considering this project. Stay tuned to BTT social media for updates.

BTT JOINS COALITION FOR CLIMATE SOLUTIONS

A diverse coalition of 41 groups from across the hunting, fishing, landowner, and conservation communities launched in October the #OurLandWaterWildlife campaign to highlight the impacts of climate change on fish, wildlife, and habitat and promote policy solutions in seven key areas. Ourlandwaterwildlife.org is a hub of educational resources, storytelling, and advocacy dedicated to natural solutions that sequester carbon and build habitat resiliency to combat climate change. Many of the coalition’s recommendations are proven strategies for safeguarding the fish and wildlife habitat that supports outdoor recreation opportunities in the United States.

FLORIDA FWC ESTABLISHES PERMIT SPAWNING SEASON CLOSURE AT WESTERN DRY ROCKS

In a major victory for conservation, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) voted on February 26 to establish a four-month no fishing closure at Western Dry Rocks, the most important permit spawning site in the Lower Keys. Conservation organizations celebrated the vote, which capped a year-long effort to protect spawning fish that aggregate at the site.

“We thank FWC for taking this decisive action at Western Dry Rocks,” said Jim McDuffie, President of BTT. “It continues the agency’s long record of science-based fisheries management and, in this case, will help ensure the sustainability of our valuable inshore fishery for permit and offshore fishery for mutton snapper.”

Guided by science and supported by a broad coalition of fishing and conservation organizations, the closure spans the months of April through July, the heart of spawning season for permit and mutton snapper, and addresses the increasing threat of shark predation in this 1.3-square-

mile area. Research by BTT identified Western Dry Rocks as a critically important spawning site for permit in the Lower Florida Keys, attracting approximately 70 percent of tagged permit that live on Lower Keys flats. Subsequent studies also found that more than one-third of hooked permit at the site were lost to shark predation. Though harvest for permit is prohibited in the Keys during the spawning season, the loss of hooked permit at this scale is impacting the larger Keys permit fishery.

For their advocacy in support of the closure, BTT thanks its coalition partners the Lower Keys Guides Association, American Sportfishing Association, Coastal Conservation Association, Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation, Fly Fishers International, Guy Harvey Ocean Foundation, and the International Game Fish Association. We also thank the hundreds of anglers and guides who submitted comments to FWC calling for a seasonal no fishing closure at Western Dry Rocks.

Climate change-induced sea level rise and increased water temperatures threaten to increase stresses on mangroves and other flats species. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

An angler fights a tarpon near Belize City, in a location that might be impacted by the proposed dredging project. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

ELEVEN ANGLING

ELEVEN MOTHERSHIP OUTPOST MOTHERSHIP

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New Depths

How bonefish reproduction research—in the lab and in the wild—could help save a species in decline

BY ALEXANDRA MARVAR

From two-foot-wide bunks in the bow of a Bahamian lobster boat called the Lady Breanna, to a ribbed inflatable research vessel being nudged in the dead of night by a curious 9-foot tiger shark, to a 25,000-gallon laboratory tank full of bonefish broadcasting eggs and sperm in a historic spawning event, four years of investigation into the mysterious behaviors of bonefish and their offspring have taken scientists to some wild places.

On one recent expedition, a research vessel hovered for days near a cloud of thousands of bonefish. Preparing to spawn, the bonefish looked like a glistening bubble of black ink suspended in the cerulean flats off the Abaco Islands. Suddenly, on day

four, the fish mobilized, heading beyond the steep drop of the continental shelf and taking an unexpected dive into the abyss of the Providence Channel. The research team watched, astonished, as the fish plunged deeper than experts had ever thought possible, to 450 feet.

“We knew from previous research that they went offshore at night to spawn, and that they went deeper, but we had no idea that they went that deep,” said Dr. Aaron Adams, a senior scientist at Florida Atlantic University Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institute and Director of Science and Conservation for BTT. He is also one of the lead investigators of the Bonefish Reproductive Research Project, an endeavor bridging fieldwork and lab

research to unravel the mysteries of bonefish reproductive behavior. “That they live their entire adult lives in the shallows, and they’re able to dive to those depths to spawn—it’s pretty tremendous,” Adams said. “When the initial foray into research of bonefish reproduction began back in 2010, nobody really expected that.”

And yet, every specimen in this culturally, ecologically and economically critical species, with its combined $700 million-peryear fishery, likely originated on a deep dive like the one Adams’ team observed. With bonefish populations in some areas in decline for reasons yet undetermined and a conservation status of “near threatened,” researchers and conservationists are just as fixated on these new discoveries about bonefish as they are by how much there is to learn.

BTT Board Chair Carl Navarre has been bonefishing since learning from his father in the 1960s. Now a seasoned conservationist and former director of the Peregrine Fund, Navarre believes that wild fish stocks face unprecedented potential environmental threats—from climate change, water quality, pollution, and disease among other things. These threats—separately or in concert—could decimate populations of bonefish in geographic areas very quickly. Instead of waiting for that to happen, and then spending five to ten years learning how to restore the species, Navarre has spearheaded the effort to develop the technology to reproduce bonefish now, so that a species restoration program could be started very quickly before they vanish entirely.

“First and foremost, our bonefish reproduction project is an insurance policy against disaster,” Navarre said. “Secondly, there

is a tremendous amount of knowledge about bonefish that we are producing which will help us to develop programs to manage the fishery more effectively.”

This is the premise of the Bonefish Reproductive Research Project, funded by BTT and the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation. Since its launch in 2016, it has yielded some groundbreaking advances: a new understanding of bonefish hormone profiles and healthy eggs; close observation of bonefish embryos and larvae; successful bonefish spawns in captivity; and documentation of never-before-seen spawning behaviors in the wild, like the mind-boggling 450-foot dive in the Abacos. Questions remain about how bonefish spawn, where they spawn, and what they need in order to survive—and thrive—in the first hours, days, weeks and months of their lives.

The key, the researchers say, is starting at the beginning—the very beginning.

THE DANCE OF THE LEPTOCEPHALI

Fish biologist Dr. Jon Shenker, a recently retired professor of marine biology at the Florida Institute of Technology and a leader on the project, has been studying bonefish in their larval and juvenile stages for decades. The first time he saw a bonefish freshly hatched, he was mesmerized: “They are these odd little larvae called leptocephalus, Latin for ‘slender head,’” he said. “They’re glass-like ribbons, anywhere from one-and-a-half to three inches long, absolutely, completely transparent, and they are beautiful, beautiful things to look at.”

Leptocephali are the same unusual larvae that occur among

A bonefish pre-spawning aggregation in the Bahamas. Photo: Robbie Roemer

Two larval tanks called Kreisel Tanks sit in a temperature-controlled water system. Photo: Anthony Cianciotto eel species, he explained—another creature whose reproductive habits are shrouded in mystery. “They are so different from any other kind of other fish larvae that they just intrigued the heck out of me. And one thing about fish biologists: We’re always developing fascinations for weird things, and anybody who starts working with these leptocephalus larvae tends to become a little crazy about them.” On Shenker’s wall hangs a two-foot-long leptocephalus glass artwork he commissioned from a local glass artist. It isn’t the only piece of leptocephalus-inspired artwork he owns.

The opportunity to study these ghostly little sea ribbons in the very first moments of their lives is not easy to come by: It requires the ability to observe bonefish embryos in real time. So the project team, with help from expert anglers and guides in the Keys, catch broodstock (wild adults collected for spawning) and transport them to tanks at Harbor Branch.

“Then,” Shenker said, “we have to try to convince these fish that they want to spawn in captivity,” yielding leptocephali for study. That’s where the aquaculture expertise of another of the project’s lead investigators, Dr. Paul Wills at FAU Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institute, comes in.

SPAWNING CAPTIVE BONEFISH

The massive bonefish tanks in Wills’ lab are designed to simulate a number of factors in the marine environment, from salinity and water temperature to the hormones in the fishes’ bodies. The more closely the lab can resemble the sea for these wild bonefish, the better chance the fish will do what they naturally do: reproduce.

“We do have an LED light that we’ve calibrated to the lumens of a full moon that comes on during the full moon,” Wills said. “Most research has shown that that’s generally not a key, but we didn’t want to leave anything behind.”

Two years ago, the team achieved a major milestone: the spawning of wild bonefish in lab captivity, for which they employed a decades-old method used in farmed salmon and trout called strip-spawning. “That was the first time we’ve seen those early, early stages of the species,” he said, referring to the transformation of embryo to leptocephalus, up close and personal. “Now we know what the larvae look like. We know how they behave in the tanks. Those are all innate behaviors—they’re

going to be doing the same thing in the wild.”

How can this further conservation efforts? According to Wills, a great deal of what’s known about bonefish habitats comes from mathematical flow models that predict how bonefish larvae will be distributed by currents throughout the Caribbean, Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. Thanks to findings by Shenker and colleagues in the 1990s, researchers know bonefish in their larval state may drift for between 41 and 71 days before they settle into a habitat. And in this amount of time a tiny leptocephalus the weight of a feather can make quite a journey.

“A better understanding of how the animal actually behaves helps to improve those mathematical models,” Wills explained. “Up to now, models have just been based on a theoretical sphere of a certain density at the surface. Now, we know they’re only a sphere for a short time before they hatch. Then, they have behavior.” For example, the team has learned that bonefish larvae hang with their head up upwards for a period of time in the water column, he said. “Those things can now be incorporated into the flow models to improve prediction of where they start out and where they’re going to drift to.”

Of the 450-foot dive Adams’ field team observed, Wills noted, “That was the first time we’ve ever been able to collect this data. That wild component allowed us to, in the comfort of a warm laboratory, mimic those conditions. You can see how the two pieces—research in the lab and in the wild—feed into each other for a better understanding of the species,” he said. “Then, we have the ability to better protect it.”

Going forward, Wills and colleagues are slowly eliminating factors one by one to see which factors are key to prompt, beyond strip-spawning, the spawning of bonefish by their own volition in captivity. At the outset, the team wasn’t sure such an event was even possible. But a pivotal breakthrough came by chance: They heard a rumor that bonefish had spawned on their own in an aquarium at a Bahamian resort—by complete accident. “When we found that out through the grapevine,” Wills recalled, “we knew that the actual dive to depth probably wasn’t the trigger—that there was some other factor.”

Now, he said, they believe that key factor is a subtle change in water temperature—also a key factor in the spawning of red drum. Applying this theory, this fall Wills’ lab succeeded in inciting bonefish to spawn with minimal interference—rather than stripspawn the fish, after a hormone injection the fish spawned on their own. It was a victory, Wills said, and it paved the way to the next challenge: In the span of a week, primitive bonefish embryos transform, developing functional eyes, a jaw, and a digestive system—and their survival relies on finding food. “The difficult part that we have to get through now is finding something they’ll eat.”

CLUES FROM EELS

Looking to Japanese research on the bonefishes’ close relative, eels, the team is developing a working theory about what bonefish leptocephali eat, along with mechanisms for how to feed it to them. According to Shenker, marine snow is a flocculant aggregation of various sea creatures’ mucus that wafts through the water column picking up bacteria, phytoplankton and more mucus on the way. Shenker hopes baby bonefish will find this delicious.

Research by his graduate students indicates that leptocephali may use the (newly discovered) gaping olfactory pits on their head to smell this “snow,” and then employ their strange, scoop-

A five-day-old bonefish larva. Photo: Molly Wightman and Maddy Wheeler

Bonefish embryos developing. Photo: Anthony Cianciotto

like teeth to carve chunks from it, he explained. “And that’s just plain weird—a totally different way of making a life than just about everything else.” If the theory holds, the team could rear labspawned bonefish larvae beyond their earliest phase, leading to another new world of possibilities.

RESTORE, NOT RESTOCK

Shenker emphasized the team has no intention of spawning cultured fish in a laboratory and then releasing them into the wild; this could compromise wild populations in ways that are impossible to predict. Rather, he looks forward to a day when juvenile bonefish from a lab can help teach us more about how they behave in the wild: “If we can get them to spawn in captivity, and we can get them to start producing juveniles on our own, we can do what are called cage studies, where we study caged bonefish and find out how they grow in different habitats,” he said. “One hypothesis is that we’ve impacted the best nursery habitats for the juvenile bonefish in the Keys by building bulkheads and causeways and destroying the sandy habitats. If we can identify suitable juvenile habitats, now we’ve got a target for habitat restoration.”

Indeed, Adams added, putting habitats at the center of bonefish management is the beating heart of the research.

“We’ve learned that a fish population can be overfished, and you can recover from that by changing regulations to reduce overfishing, but once a population loses a sufficient amount of habitat on which to depend, there’s no recovery. You’re done,” he said. “That hasn’t been incorporated into natural resource management for the marine world. Of course managing the fisheries is important, but unless we start including this habitat

Bonefish eggs ready for fertilization.

component in it, fishery agencies can manage all they want, but they’re still going to see fishery declines because habitat is getting destroyed.”

“Thinking big picture,” Adams said, “what drives me and colleagues is being able to learn what makes this fish tick, and getting enough of that information into fisheries management that we can change the paradigm, and shift fisheries management to focus on habitat.”

Alexandra Marvar is a freelance journalist based in Savannah, Georgia. Her writing can be found in The New York Times, The Guardian, Smithsonian Magazine and elsewhere.

Photo: Anthony Cianciotto

A fully formed bonefish larva. Photo: Anthony Cianciotto

7th International Science Symposium and Flats Expo Promises Research Breakthroughs

BY CHRIS SANTELLA

Nearly 20 years ago, Bonefish & Tarpon Trust held its first science symposium to diagnose why flats fisheries were in decline and to map initial conservation and restoration plans. This November 12-13, perhaps the most robust gathering of scientists, resource managers, and anglers focused on flats fisheries ever assembled will gather in Weston, Florida, for BTT’s 7th International Science Symposium and Flats Expo. More than 1,000 attendees are expected to hear science presentations, interact with angling experts, meet flats fishing legends, and share stories with fellow bonefish, tarpon and permit enthusiasts. The theme for this year’s symposium is Conservation Connections, which acknowledges the extent to which bonefish, permit and tarpon move from the waters of one nation to another—itself an important discovery in the 20 years since the first symposium.

“The well-being of the flats fishery depends upon our understanding of how the fishery is connected geographically,” said Jim McDuffie, BTT President and CEO. “What happens in one location may potentially impact the fishery in other places far removed from it.”

These conservation connections will also be evident among the scientists at this year’s event. “More than 60 scientists representing the United States, Bahamas, Belize, Brazil, Colombia, Cuba and Mexico will be participating,” according to Dr. Aaron Adams, BTT Director of Science and Conservation. “And their presentations will feature a good deal of new research, including some groundbreaking results from tarpon tracking, permit movements, and some new aspects of bonefish and tarpon genetics.”

One much anticipated presentation will address new findings

concerning bonefish reproduction. “I feel like we’re pushing the boundaries of the science with this study,” said BTT collaborating scientist Dr. Paul Wills, Associate Director for Research at FAU Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institute. Dr. Wills, along with Drs. Matt Ajemian and Jon Shenker, is leading a team of 10 researchers. “It’s the kind of project scientists dream of doing in their career. We’ve been able to get bonefish collected from prespawning aggregations in the wild to spawn in tanks, and have been able to get the eggs to hatch and larvae to survive. We’re seeing life stages of these species that no one has ever seen. It’s like walking on the moon the first time.”

Another presentation will look at how contaminants are impacting bonefish populations. “The contaminants that have caught our attention are pharmaceuticals,” said BTT collaborating scientist Dr. Jennifer Rehage, Associate Professor at the Earth

& Environment Department at Florida International University. “These are prescription medicines—antibiotics, antidepressants, pain relievers and hormones. Pharmaceuticals are a concern because they are active at low doses, are not removed by conventional water treatment, and remain unregulated (meaning we do not have standards for what are safe levels in the environment). We have found antidepressants and heart medications in bonefish in both South Florida and the Bahamas, and are sampling more bonefish throughout the Caribbean to determine where and how bonefish may be exposed and what it means for them.”

In our media-rich age, there are many ways to share new scientific findings. But it’s hard to overstate the value of likeminded colleagues meeting face to face. “The symposium presents valuable opportunities for networking and sharing

Photo: Scott Morrison

experiences,” shared Eric Carey, Executive Director of The Bahamas National Trust, an NGO that is committed to conserving and protecting the Bahamian environment. “We’ve made many contacts at the symposium and have been introduced to key individuals and organizations who either are already working in the Bahamas, or looking for a partner for a conservation or education project.”

“The symposium is unique in that anglers, fishing guides and scientists come together as a community to discuss what is happening to our fish and how do we make it better,” Rehage added. “I can’t think of another venue where this happens.”

While scientific presentations may be the primary draw, many of the attendees also come to celebrate their love of flats fishing. “From an industry perspective, there’s not a better place to reach people who are passionate about shallow water fishing,” said Chris Peterson, owner of Hell’s Bay Boatworks, and a sponsor of the symposium’s Flats Fishing Expo. “Anyone who’s anyone is there. It’s a conclave of like minds. And since it happens only every three years it’s special, and you want to be sure to be there.”

Peterson, who serves on the BTT Board of Directors, is an active and well-respected conservationist who is quick to emphasize the importance of supporting conservation efforts like those by BTT. “Anyone who works in the outdoor industry does it because we’re passionate about it. Those who are passionate are the proper stewards, as we truly care. BTT is on the frontlines of research. By supporting their work, we have the best chance of influencing conservation policy with sound science.”

“After all—if you don’t have clean water and fish, you don’t need a high-end fishing boat.”

Chris Santella is the author of 21 books, including the popular “Fifty Places” series from Abrams. He’s a regular contributor to The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Trout.

Captain Steve Huff (left) and BTT board member Sandy Moret (center) spoke on the 2017 International Science Symposium Tarpon Panel, moderated by BTT Secretary Jeff Harkavy (right). Photo: Dan Diez

Eric Carey, Executive Director of The Bahamas National Trust, served on The Bahamas Panel at the last Symposium. Photo: Dan Diez

Renowned angler Andy Mill shares tarpon tips with attendees of his Tarpon Clinic at the 2017 International Science Symposium and Flats Expo. Photo: Pat Ford

Project Permit

Tdragnet of receiving stations strung across thousands of square miles in South Florida, the pings coalesced around a pair of pinnacles rising from a reef called the Western Dry Rocks, about 10 miles southwest of Key West. For months, scientists with Bonefish & Tarpon Trust and its scientific partners, Carleton University in Ottawa, Florida Fish and Wildlife Research Institute, and the University of Massachusetts Amherst, had caught permit across the Florida Keys and surgically implanted acoustic transmitters behind their anal vents. Now project scientists and supporters watched—and listened—as the fish revealed for the first time their ancient spawning migrations.

Of all the mysteries regarding permit biology, where these iconic, coveted—and, for many anglers, intoxicatingly vexing— fish spawn had been an exasperating riddle. But as the acoustic

saw reason for concern. “It was like watching a hurricane on the horizon,” recalls Dr. Ross Boucek, manager of BTT’s Florida Keys Initiative. “If the data stayed on the same track, we knew that dealing with the new information was not going to be pleasant.”

Western Dry Rocks was one of the most popular fishing grounds in the Lower Keys. Over the years, huge fights had erupted over fishing regulations there. “If BTT was going to be the tip of the spear in another battle there,” Boucek says, “a different approach would be required.”

That approach would evolve into one of the most compelling and comprehensive fishery management outreach efforts of the last decade: Project Permit, a 10-years-old-and-counting program to quantify permit spawning biology and pair hard science with public outreach in support of regulatory changes.

program, and an analysis of predation on permit—primarily by sharks—during catch-and-release fishing that targets permit spawning aggregations. And from the beginning, Project Permit took a holistic approach. Reaching out to supporters such as the March Merkin permit tournament and the Lower Keys Guides Association and funding partners such as Costa del Mar, Project Permit created a confluence of stakeholders whose voices across multiple platforms would prove—and remain—critical to the program’s success. “The work done by participating anglers and researchers has been critical to ensuring the health and vibrancy of our permit fisheries for generations to come,” says Amanda Sabin, senior marketing manager for Costa. “Costa is proud to have supported BTT and Project Permit from its inception.”

Project Permit kicked off in 2010 as Florida struggled to align

fisheries exist. A flats fishery in the Keys is accessed primarily by catch-and-release fly anglers who treasure the fish for their obstinate feeding habits and the fight that comes when a permit does smash a crab fly or mantis shrimp pattern. A harvestoriented recreational fishery is largely centered on permit’s spawning grounds near offshore reefs and wrecks around South Florida. There, six out of ten caught fish wind up in a cooler. Whether the fish are caught in two feet or water or 40, their value goes beyond the thrill of landing such an iconic species. On the flats in particular, permit are the crown jewel in the lauded Florida Grand Slam of a bonefish, tarpon, and permit landed in a single day. And targeting the fish is a driving factor in the flats fishery’s economic impact of more than $465 million a year.

For fly anglers, the Florida Keys is the spiritual and physical

center of permit fishing around the globe. Of 36 fly-caught world records, 33 have come from the Florida Keys. It’s where this particular pursuit was born, and offers anglers their most accessible shot at one of the most enigmatic targets in the fly fishing realm.

For those who dream of notching a permit into their life list, the fish’s Latin name, Trachinotus falcatus, meaning “armed with scythes,” seems entirely apropos. Permit will cut even the best fly anglers down to size. “For many of us, permit are the fish that get inside your head and won’t let you rest,” says Al Perkinson. A BTT board member and former marketing executive for both Costa and Simms Fishing Products, Perkinson was instrumental in laying the groundwork for Project Permit and its integrated approach to advocacy. “They are probably the most difficult flats fish to catch, and the harder the hunt the more we enjoy it.”

All of which makes the fall-off in permit fishing—certainly in the flats fishery, and particularly when it comes to large, trophy fish—a bit of an elephant in the room. Fishing guides are understandably hesitant about admitting that the fishery isn’t what it used to be. And since permit spawn in aggregations that can number in the thousands, fishing the spawning grounds, where allowed, can result in catches that easily camouflage the imperiled nature of overall permit populations. Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) had enacted modest steps to give permit a break. In 2011, with the urging of BTT and other partners, FWC eliminated the direct commercial harvest of permit—limited bycatch is still permissible—and enacted a Special Permit Zone to include all state and federal waters south of Cape Florida and south of Cape Sable, in which no

An acoustic tag ready to be surgically implanted in a permit. Photo: Ian Wilson

Scientists sew up a permit after surgery to implant an acoustic tag.

Photo: Dr. Andy Danylchuk

commercial harvest can take place, and in which recreational permit fishing is catch-and-release only from May through July. It was a step in the right direction, but the management boundaries were set without robust scientific information, and many conservationists and anglers remained convinced that the approach was too checkered, too little, and too light on science to make a difference. Project Permit aimed to bring focus to the fish’s plight.

**

Project Permit kicked off in 2010 with a mark-recapture study that involved anglers across Florida catching individual permit, marking them with dart tags, and reporting recaptures.

Ultimately, more than 1,500 fish were tagged, and data began almost immediately to show that permit tagged in the Florida Keys rarely migrated across the Special Permit Zone boundary. Next, in 2015, BTT kicked off the massive acoustic monitoring effort to identify spawning sites in the Keys. Engaging guides from the Lower Keys Guide Association, more than 150 permit were caught and outfitted with small transmitters, each about the size of an AA battery. A core of researchers shepherded the project, among them Dr. Jake Brownscombe and Dr. Steven Cooke at Carleton University, Dr. Andy Danylchuk and Dr. Lucas Griffin from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, and BTT’s Boucek and Dr. Aaron Adams, BTT’s Director of Science and Conservation. An existing network of state and research institution monitoring stations was already in place

Dr. Jake Brownscombe ready to release a permit after implanting an acoustic tag in the fish. Photo: Jordan Carter

Tailing permit in Florida. Photo: Collin Ross

with receivers sited from the Dry Tortugas to Biscayne Bay, but Project Permit placed 100 additional monitoring stations in the permit’s core population area, from the Marquesas east to Islamorada.

Captain Rob Kramarz caught the first two permit that were outfitted with original satellite tags, and was instrumental in catching fish for the acoustic monitoring program. He’d caught thousands of permit over his career, but standing on the poling platform, watching scientists surgically implant the transmitters, was “incredibly gratifying,” he recalls. “I’d sometimes stand there and really ask myself: What did I just do? To think about how much information and understanding this project was supporting, and what it could ultimately do for the fish, was pretty incredible.”

Also incredible was the project’s success. Of 150 fish tagged,

approximately 140 have been redetected, with over a million acoustic signatures so far. And it didn’t take long for the data to suggest another potential conservation concern with how permit fishing is regulated in Florida. An astounding 71 percent of the Florida Keys flats permit tagged with acoustic tags moved to the Western Dry Rocks to spawn, some traveling as far as 50 miles. The site is tiny—only 1.3 square miles—but years of effort had underscored its importance to a fishery that spreads across the Florida Keys and draws anglers there from across the globe.

“We discovered quickly that these fish were showing up in pretty high numbers in April,” Brownscombe says. Pairing the tracking data with angler reports that permit leave the flats around the end of March and beginning of April enabled BTT, the Lower Keys Guides Association, and others to lobby for additional protections. In April of 2018, FWC added April to the May-through-July season closure for permit harvest in the entirety of the SPZ.

The final science component of Project Permit was designed to quantify how many permit were lost to sharks and other predators in the catch-and-release fisheries around known spawning aggregations. BTT funded two studies to evaluate the threat to the fishery. Both zeroed in on the impacts at Western Dry Rocks. The results were tellingly close: In the University of Massachusetts Amherst study, 35 percent of hooked permit were eaten before being landed. In the Florida International University study, 39 percent of hooked permit were killed by sharks. The figures were suspected to be high, but few were prepared for the true count in dead and lost permit.

“When nerdy scientists are out there hooking 15 permit a day at their spawning aggregations, think of how much damage a captain with 100 years of family experience can do fishing those aggregations. And second, consider the lost opportunity that translates to for a guide on the flats who catches 40 in an entire year,” says Boucek. “That was the final piece of information we needed to strongly advocate for an April through July fishing closure around Western Dry Rocks.” Fishing effort at spawning aggregations was simply killing too many permit. But science alone wasn’t going to change enough minds to affect a closure.

The cold, cyclonic current whirls like a hypnotist’s wheel, seaward of the Lower and Middle Keys, over the sloping continental shelf where the Florida Current takes a hard northward bend. Known as the Pourtales Gyre, the current

A permit spawning aggregation in the Lower Keys. Photo: Dr. Jiangang Luo

Although we think of permit as a flats fish, most Lower Keys permit migrate to Western Dry Rocks to spawn. Photo: Pat Ford

is centered over the Western Dry Rocks. It is seasonal and ephemeral, but in a few short weeks its spinning energy traps nutrient-rich plankton, gathers the larvae of spawning permit, and holds them in a centrifugal grip, keeping them out of the Gulf Stream before slingshotting the tiny fish back towards the shallow flats of the Florida Keys.

Like the Pourtales Gyre, the effort to protect Florida permit is reliant on drawing in, catalyzing, and sending forth energy and action from a wide range of stakeholders. From its early partnerships with groups like the Lower Keys Guides Association and the web media company Fly Lords, to scientific, industry, and stakeholder support, moving the needle on permit conservation has required wide buy-in.

“What we’ve seen is transformative technology paired with a real ground shift in activism and advocacy,” says Brownscombe. “While we’re advancing our scientific understanding of permit biology, we’re working to apply social science to these biological issues. If we can’t figure out how to educate people about why these changes need to happen, we won’t be as effective. I’m a pretty hardcore angler, and I know we have to get the word out that fishing will be better on all of the reef sites and all of the flats if we protect the babies at just a few sites.”

That effort to galvanize stakeholder support hit a rough patch in 2019, when NOAA proposed a series of new Marine Protected Areas that included a year-round closure of all fishing at Western Dry Rocks. Almost immediately, BTT and its partners kicked off a campaign to prove to state agencies that, while few supported a 12-month moratorium, there was broad support for a seasonal closure at the Keys’ most important spawning aggregation for permit, black grouper, spadefish, and four species of snapper. Leveraging fishing shows, podcasts, webinars and blogs, the initiative took a strategic approach to targeting Gen Z and millennials, boomers and Gen Xers, and others in message-specific communications across digital and conventional platforms. One advocacy advertisement from a partner in the campaign read, in bold letters: IF YOU SWAM 50 MILES TO GET LAID, YOU’D WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE, TOO. Another showed a little girl in a brightly colored PFD, frowning at the sight of a permit chomped nearly in half by a shark. The

effort wouldn’t bury the controversy, but highlight the fight to conserve iconic fishing opportunities in the Keys, and engage the public with hard science.

The campaign’s goal was to get 100 people to write to FWC in support of a seasonal closure. More than 500 weighed in. With a half-million social media impressions and an average of 300 comments per post, the campaign wasn’t unlike the Pourtales Gyre itself: Science, social media, stakeholders, industry partners, resource agencies, and business groups all coalescing around a common goal: Protect permit for everyone.

At its December 2020 meeting, FWC approved a draft rule to prohibit all fishing in a one-square-mile area around Western Dry Rocks in May and June and continue studying whether to extend the closure to April through July. Final approval was set for the FWC meeting in February 2021, and would follow workshops to gather additional public input.

Once again BTT mobilized support of the proposed closure and with its partners generated approximately 500 written comments to FWC along with a steady stream of endorsements in the public workshops. As this issue of the Bonefish & Tarpon Journal was going to press, FWC voted to establish a four-month no-fishing closure at Western Dry Rocks, capping a year-long effort to conserve one of the most critical aggregations of flats and reef fish species in the hemisphere. It was a monumental moment for fisheries, and a moment of validation for all those who worked to see the Western Dry Rocks protected. Project Permit did more than identify how permit move across Florida’s flats and reefs, and where they spawn, and what threats exist that need to be addressed. The effort underscored a new paradigm for conservation action: Whether or not you have a Ph.D., your voice will matter for the future of permit in the Florida Keys.

An award-winning author and journalist, T. Edward Nickens is editor-at-large of Field & Stream and a contributing editor for Garden & Gun and Audubon magazine. His latest book, The Last Wild Road, published by Lyons Press, will be available May 1. Follow him on Instagram @enickens.

Dr. Jake Brownscombe and Capt. Rob Kramarz with one of the first fish tagged for Project Permit. Photo: Dr. Lucas Griffin

BTT to Honor Tony James and Captain Will Benson

The first time Hamilton “Tony” James, the executive vice chairman of the Blackstone Group, met Will Benson, the well-regarded flats guide, was on a dock in Key West. James was embarking on a mothership trip in the Marquesas. Benson was put in charge of getting him to that mothership.

Benson left the mothership to pick up James that afternoon and endured an apocalyptic lightning/wind/rainstorm while crossing the open ocean to Key West. “I was pretty shaken up by the time I reached the dock,” says Benson. James hopped on the boat and, just like that, the skies completely cleared and the wind went still. “When we got to the Marquesas, the tide was perfect, and there were fish everywhere, I mean everywhere,” says James. “I turned around and started to get my rod and then saw that Will had a funny look on his face.”

Benson was under strict orders to get James to the mothership right away, with no stops in between. “I had to deliver the asset,” he says.

And, thus, the duo missed out on what promised to be an epic tide.

James and Benson, who now fish together three times a year, still laugh about their first meeting a dozen years ago. It was the “day that got away.” But there have been plenty of days since that didn’t.

At this year’s Bonefish & Tarpon Trust New York City Dinner, Tony James will receive the Lefty Kreh Award for Lifetime Achievement in Conservation, which is given to “an individual who has demonstrated an enduring commitment to the conservation

BY MONTE BURKE

of bonefish, tarpon and permit.” And Will Benson will receive the Flats Stewardship Award, given to an individual “who has demonstrated a commitment to the effective management, sustainable use and conservation of the flats fishery.”

It is a happy coincidence—and entirely fitting—that James and Benson are being honored together. They are both staunch conservationists and excellent anglers. And they have found that mysterious guide/client alchemy on the water that can happen when two aligned souls are prepared, persistent and passionate when it comes to a shared pursuit. **

James was born in Michigan, but raised in a small town outside of Boston. “There wasn’t much to do were I lived, so I got into fishing,” says James. He started with a spinning rod. When he was around the age of ten, he went to a Christmas fair at his local church and laid eyes for the first time on a fly rod. ”It was a bamboo rod with the tip broken off,” says James. “The guy wanted 25 cents. I negotiated him down to 10 cents and bought it and fixed it up.”It was the first of what would be many business deals conducted during his life.

He then went to his library and checked out a book about fly tying and began to tie and sell his creations at a local hardware store. “By that time, I was all in,” he says.

Trout and bass were his first targets. Bigger rods and bigger fish—striped bass—came next. Eventually, he found his way to the southern salt. His first trip, in his early 30s, was a doit-yourself jaunt to South Caicos Island for bonefish. Soon afterward, he would discover tarpon and then permit. “I could

Tony James releases a permit in the Florida Keys. Photo: Will Benson

never get enough and I loved expanding my horizons,” he says. While he still fishes for bonefish and tarpon, permit have become his main focus.

Along the way, of course, James was putting together an impressive business resume. He worked at Credit Suisse and Donaldson, Lufkin & Jenrette before becoming the president and COO of the Blackstone Group. But he always managed to fit in flats fishing with his demanding work. “The only way I coped

making fly-fishing movies at the time, and had gotten some weird pushback,” he says. “Some people didn’t seem to like that I was doing that.” But he decided to ignore the noise and get involved again, anyway. He dove in, and became the association’s representative on the advisory council of the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary at the age of 32. There, he was put in charge of a new project, called the Blue Star Fishing Guides program, which recognizes guides who practice sustainable and responsible practices. “This was the federal government [through the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration] acknowledging the important role that fishing guides play in conservation,” says Benson. “It was pretty cool.” In 2018, Benson won the Florida Keys Marine Sanctuary volunteer of the year award for all of his critical work.

Much bigger things could come from this type of program, Benson says. His goal is to “elevate the profession” of guiding so that guides are trained—and seen—as independent business professionals in the ecotourism and the hospitality industries. Benson is also a BTT Conservation Captain. “As a guide, it’s so important to be allied with an organization that produces science, economic reports, that arms us with data about the three species we rely on,” he says. “We owe a ton to their efforts.”

And when it comes to his favorite species to target, Benson says he will fish for “whatever I read in the leaves in the morning.” But permit are the species he’s become known for. And that led him, of course, to James.

with my business life was fly-fishing,” he says. “Out on the flats, you can’t think about anything else if you’re zoned in on the fish. For me it’s all absorbing.” James says the anticipation of upcoming trips often got him through some difficult days at work. “Whenever I had to put up with crap at the office, I’d console myself with the thought that I would be on the flats sometime in the near future.” He says he does bring a phone on the boat, but only in case of emergency. “I think talking business on a flats boat brings some bad juju,” he says.

Along the way, too, James became deeply involved—as a board member and financial backer—in many conservation organizations like the Wildlife Conservation Society, the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution and, of course, BTT, which he has supported for many years. He tends to keep a low profile, in both his business and philanthropic lives, but has made an exception for the BTT award. “I care passionately about the environment, both as someone who worries about the world and as a sportsman,” he says. “Passing on a love of fishing to my son and three-year-old grandson, allowing them to have the same incredible experiences that I’ve had, is the best gift I can give them.”

**

Benson, born and raised in the Keys, has been guiding since he was 19. He says that when he started his career, conservation wasn’t at the top of his mind. “I was just trying to catch as many fish as I could.” But that changed in 2005 with the dredging of the Key West Harbor, which devastated the sea life in the harbor and beyond. “I saw the impact that it had on the fishing and something sparked in me that said, ‘whoa, wait a second,’” he says.

Benson says he was spurred into acting on that awakening by the late Dr. John Ain, a permit fanatic who was on the board of BTT. Ain visited him one day and persuaded him to get more involved with the Lower Keys Guide Association and in lobbying and organizing effort on behalf of conservation.

Benson says he was a little reluctant at first. “I had been

The duo has had some fantastic days on the water together. They’ve had a grand slam. They’ve boated five tarpon in one morning. “But we’ve also had some horrible days, with weather and rain and wind,” says James. “One of the things I admire about Willie is how he conducts himself on those bad days. Everyone feels good on the good days. But on the bad days, it’s incumbent on the guide to stay positive, to keep giving it everything they’ve got. Willie does this. And it makes it all still really fun.”

Benson says that James is the most focused person he’s ever met and that he “always comes to the boat with a lot of difficult questions. When I go fishing with Tony, it’s never your average day of permit fishing. I have to rise to the occasion.”

One afternoon this past season, James and Benson were on a flat, and permit were swimming everywhere. “Tony was having one of those days that everyone has sometimes,” says Benson. “He was missing a little left and a little right on the fish. It just wasn’t happening.”

Benson offered advice and continued to pole and scout. At one point, his pushpole slipped from his hands...and hit James on the head. “You could hear the smack on his skull. I was like, ‘oh shit.’” James took it in stride. He looked up at Benson and said, “I’m screwing up that bad, huh?’”

On James’ very nextshot, he made a perfect cast, stripped once and hooked and landed a permit. As Benson released that fish, he spied another one tailing. “Tony, right there!” he called. James backhanded a cast, stripped twice and hooked and landed another permit. Says Benson: “Ever since then, I’ve told people that if you really want Tony James to produce, all you have to do is hit him on the head.”

Monte Burke is the New York Times bestselling author of Saban, 4th And Goal and Sowbelly. His new book, Lords of the Fly: Madness, Obsession, and the Hunt for the World-Record Tarpon, is available now. He is a contributing editor at Forbes and Garden & Gun.

Captain Will Benson. Photo: Ian Wilson

Giving Nature A Helping Hand

AARON J. ADAMS, PH.D. Director of Science and Conservation

Photos: Justin Lewis

Newly planted mangrove propagules growing into seedlings. Kyle Rossin (foreground) and Dr. Craig Layman transport mangrove seedlings to a flat for planting.

Afull hurricane season has passed since Hurricane Dorian stalled over Abaco and Grand Bahama in September 2019. For many, the record hurricane season of 2020 plus the Covid-19 pandemic put that terrible storm in the rearview mirror. The media have moved on to the next event, as is typical. But people who have been through hurricanes know that surviving the storm is only Chapter 1; the recovery process takes up the rest of the book.

The damage caused by hurricanes is typically patchy. Mangroves might be lost or coral reefs destroyed, but not far away from the worst damaged areas, other locations can come through nearly unscathed. That’s what happened, for example, when Hurricane Charlie blew through Southwest Florida in 2004. Where the eye passed, there wasn’t a leaf left on a mangrove tree—many mangroves were uprooted, and many were dead. Just 10 miles away most of the mangroves still had their leaves. The patchiness of hurricane damage allows relatively rapid

recovery. This is because the surviving trees are able to produce propagules (mangrove seeds), which are carried by currents to the damaged areas where they take root and start the next generation. In my experience this process takes on the order of 10-15 years. These surviving trees that provide propagules are called a seed bank.

This brings us to the Hurricane Dorian problem. The extent of mangrove destruction on Grand Bahama and the northern portion of Abaco was so great that there is no local seed bank. It’s estimated, for example, that more than 74 percent of mangroves on Grand Bahama were destroyed or severely damaged, and more than 40 percent on Abaco, with all of that damage in the northern portion of Abaco and the Abaco Marls, which is a national park.

Although many of the mangroves on Grand Bahama and Abaco are dead, many of the skeletons remain. This is beneficial because, until they rot, the skeletons will help to hold the

Newly planted mangroves among the destruction from Hurricane Dorian.

sediments in place. Once those sediments erode, mangrove recovery becomes much less likely because the amount of sediment and the chemistry of the sediment aren’t conducive to healthy mangroves.

A HELPFUL BOOST

The total estimated area with dead or severely damaged mangroves is at least 69 square miles. Within that expansive area there are few if any trees capable of producing propagules. The likelihood of a natural recovery in the usual time frame is slim. So BTT, in partnership with Bahamas National Trust (BNT), Friends of the Environment (FRIENDS), and MANG embarked on an effort to give the recovery a boost. The Hurricane Dorian Mangrove Restoration Project intends to work with Bahamians to transplant mangrove seedings into the damaged areas to help nudge the system onto the recovery trajectory. The new mangroves will help to hold the sediment in place as the dead mangrove skeletons decay. And the seedlings should be able to produce propagules in a few years, pushing the recovery into high gear.

“It’s important that people realize we’re not aiming to replace all of the mangroves that were killed,” said Justin Lewis, BTT’s Bahamas Initiative Manager. “We’re transplanting mangrove seedlings in strategic locations that should ensure rapid growth so these new trees can start producing propagules for natural recovery.”

Kyle Rossin, co-founder of MANG, has been instrumental in providing essential information on the methods needed for mangrove restoration. Rossin helped set up nurseries to grow propagules to seedlings, advised on best methods for planting, best seedling size for planting, and the all-important budget needs to accomplish the project’s goals. “We’ve been a part of a lot of mangrove restoration projects, but nothing of this scale,” said Rossin. “It’s great to be part of such a great group of partners that work well together.”

BTT is working with Dr. Craig Layman of Wake Forest University to monitor the effectiveness of the transplanting by measuring things like mangrove growth, survival, and health, as well as the community of organisms that depend on healthy mangroves. Dr. Layman has overseen the transplanting in the five test areas and will be monitoring the test sites at regular intervals for the next three years. The results of the monitoring will help to determine the best planting methods, which can then be applied to transplanting by communities on Grand Bahama and Abaco. “I’ve worked with FRIENDS and BNT on creek restoration projects in the past,” said Layman, “and those projects were very successful. So I’m excited to see the outcome of this mangrove restoration project.”

When asked about how they will accomplish such a large undertaking, Justin Lewis said, “It will be a challenge, but we are up to the task. We will be hiring flats fishing guides to transport people and mangroves to the transplanting sites. These guys

BNT’s Jewel Beneby walks a tray of mangrove seedlings to a planting area.

know the areas better than anyone, and are eager to get working on restoring the habitats that their livelihoods depend on.”

COMMUNITY EDUCATION

This project is about more than restoring mangrove habitats that are essential to the environmental health of Grand Bahama and Abaco. This effort also provides a great opportunity for Bahamians to learn about their coastal environments and take part in getting those habitats back to a healthy status.

Bahamas National Trust and Friends of the Environment are leading the education program, which will begin in earnest in 2021. This will include teaching children in the classroom, working at the nurseries to make sure the propagules grow into healthy seedlings, and field trips to plant and monitor mangroves. They will also engage the larger community of all ages. This will truly be a community-wide effort.

Olivia Patterson-Maura, Deputy Director of FRIENDS, is looking forward to finding some positive from a hurricane that was so damaging to Abaco’s environment and communities. “The process of recovering from Hurricane Dorian has revealed how reliant we truly are on the marine environment for our daily survival,” Patterson-Maura said. “Involving the community in this restoration project will help establish ownership and will be key to helping not only the ecosystems build resilience to future storms, but the community as well.”

LONG-TERM PROSPECTS

The project is currently envisioned as a three-year project, with the expectation that momentum will help extend the project to five years. In this time, some of the first mangroves planted should produce propagules as the system comes back to health. And many Bahamians will have a greater appreciation for the importance of mangroves to the overall wellbeing of the islands. With a bit of luck, Grand Bahama and Abaco will avoid another major hurricane and the flats and shorelines will again have their protective mangroves in place for the foreseeable future.

Mangroves are an essential component of bonefish habitat.

Mangrove seedlings from Florida are delivered to a nursery on Grand Bahama.

“We’ve been a part of a lot of mangrove restoration projects, but nothing of this scale,” said Rossin.

Fighting Tarpon The Right Way

Follow these guidelines to ensure a safe release for the fish

BY NATHANIEL LINVILLE

Fighting tarpon is the major barrier to catching one. Compared to permit, these fish can be easy to coax into biting your fly, but once the hook finds a home in a tarpon the real work begins. Nearly all of the mortality associated with catch-and-release fishing is a result of the time between when the angler sets the hook and the fight ends, and shortening this time is the best way to benefit the fish we care about.

In my experience, there are a few things we can all learn to do that will reduce fight times, keep the fish healthy, and preserve the resource past our own lifetimes. Most mortality comes from shark predation, and not all of it happens while the fish is still attached. Give a tarpon your respect by giving it everything you have; pull hard, and don’t expect to grab every one of them.

To ensure that your hooked tarpon is not harmed while on the line or after you release it, a few simple guidelines are worth consideration.

The first one should be obvious, but seems to evade a large number of guides and anglers: if it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. This goes for fishing nearby sharks, as well as what to do if a fight feels like it’s taking too long. The former has an easy prescription: simply leave if there are sharks around. The latter is a little harder to do in the moment, but simple: pull hard enough to either break the fish off or land it fast. Most bad decisions on the water are the result of optimistic math, whether it’s getting too close to another boat, using a trolling motor to keep pace with a school of fish that the first two casts didn’t entice, or trying to

Tarpon in the Florida Keys. Photo: Marty Dashiell

play it safe and not pull too hard on a fish for fear of breaking it off. Fear of losing out on a spot, a bite, or a face-grab seems to be a major contributor to poor behavior, and it’s worth accepting that doing the right thing seems easier in our minds than it does in real life. I once asked Tom Evans, perhaps the most accomplished record fisherman of all time, what his secret to success was when fighting big tarpon. His response summed up what we all can do better when tarpon fishing: “Pull on them. When they jump, as soon as they land, pull on them harder.” Great advice from someone who succeeded in catching some of the largest tarpon on a fly rod ever, not to mention breaking more than a few off along the way.

The second is slightly more complicated but no less important: fish the right tippet. Without getting into finger pointing in anyone else’s direction, there was a time when I was seduced by the logic that in order to shorten a fight I needed to fish tippet stronger than 16-pound test. On its face, this seemed to make sense: pull harder, catch them quicker, and heavier line makes this easier. Sadly, the culture of fishing “unlimited” terminal tackle for tarpon sidesteps a few important issues: what happens if I make a mistake? What if a shark shows up and I want to end things? If I’m attached to a fish with 30- or 40-pound test, I allow myself to stay attached through dumb mistakes (think holding the handle while the fish runs) that the fish would be otherwise able to swim away from. Leaving a hook in the face of a tarpon is not a big deal: science

has shown us that a fish rids itself of the hook in relatively short order, and this is far less impactful than keeping a fish on for longer than it should be. Without taking a headlong dive into the deep crevasse of knot construction, know this: a good knot will preserve the strength of the line(s) it’s tied with, and a bad one won’t. If I tie a bad knot with 16-pound tippet I won’t get all of the strength of the material, and most of the time I was fishing 30- or 40-pound ‘class’, I was accessing some unknown amount less than the line’s stated strength. When I made the decision to think critically about not just what I was doing but how I was doing it, I had to learn a few knots: the Bimini Twist and the blood knot. And I didn’t just learn to tie them in Dacron and 12-pound fluorocarbon; learning to manipulate stiff monofilament nylon into these productions was harder, but not by much. I took the time, learned the knots. They were all I needed to make a solid leader that was IGFA compliant, and after fishing this way and learning how to catch tarpon quickly on lighter line I can honestly say that when I thought I was doing anyone other than myself a favor by fishing a heavier ‘class’ I was wrong.

When you make a choice to fish an IGFA leader for a tarpon, you are putting yourself (not the fish) at a disadvantage. If it’s your first time fishing for tarpon, think of it as a process and not a destination. You will likely learn by breaking a few off what you can and can’t get away with, but these lessons will

The author exerts maximum pressure on a tarpon. Photo: John O’Hearn

be learned at your own expense, not at the expense of the fish. In short order you will find that you can pull plenty hard on 16-pound to land a fish fast—often in single-digit minutes, but along your learning curve you’ll not affect the fish negatively. As a mountain climber learns a route by falling before attempting it without a rope, anglers learn how to fish and how hard to pull by breaking a fish off. Without the specter of failure, it’s hard to improve your fish fighting tactics to the point that you can subdue a fish fast. If you are fishing 40-pound breaking strength for tarpon because you’ve convinced yourself it’s better for the fish, you might unwittingly be acquiescing to the same icky part of our nature that causes some people to allow themselves to be short-roped to the summit of Everest. Just because it’s easier to accomplish doesn’t mean it’s right.

Above all, I recommend that any angler who wants to fish for tarpon keep in mind that the end goal is to be capable of catching a fish quickly, and releasing it unharmed. Along the way you will make mistakes, but these will be painful only to you and not the fish. If you’re serious about this, hooking a fish with line you can’t break won’t improve your skills and will often result in harm to the fish. If you want to do it right, for yourself and the fish, consider fishing a leader that’s IGFA compliant.

Nathaniel Linville lives in Key West, Florida. For over ten years he has owned and operated The Angling Company, a full service fly shop in Key West. His world record catches include a 16-pound permit on 2-pound tippet and a 140.3-pound tarpon on 6-pound tippet. His tournament record includes three wins of the March Merkin Permit Tournament and one in the Del Brown Invitational. His frank discussion of addiction and recovery as well as his thoughts on world record mortality was featured on the MillHouse podcast in 2020 and has been downloaded by over 10,000 people in 34 countries.

The Silver King. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Source: Thrive Creative Labs

Healthy Habitats or Bust

JOELLEN K. WILSON, M.SC. JUVENILE TARPON HABITAT PROGRAM MANAGER

AARON J. ADAMS, PH.D. DIRECTOR OF SCIENCE AND CONSERVATION

Anyone who follows BTT’s work knows that a core focus is habitats, as reflected in our often-used tag line: Healthy Habitats = Healthy Fisheries. This is because fish population size is most influenced by the amount of suitable healthy habitats. Fish populations can recover from overfishing when regulations that reduce harvest are instituted. In contrast, once habitats are lost they are gone forever—in fact, some species may never be as abundant as they once were because so much habitat has been lost or degraded. Here we share some of the top concerns on habitat loss and degradation and water quality decline. Often, water quality is considered separate from habitat, but from a fish’s perspective water quality is one of the most important aspects of their habitat universe. We also share some of our ongoing efforts to protect and restore these habitats that are essential to the flats fishery.

The Northern Everglades. Photo: Nick Shirghio

FLORIDA

Ongoing infrastructure changes (development, rerouted waterflows, increased direct runoff) are causing habitat loss and degradation and water quality declines, which are already impacting our fishing. We see these impacts in our own backyards.

Many homes in Florida are still using septic systems that leach nutrients and contaminants into our waterways. In fact, the estimated 2.6 million Florida homes on septic systems represent 12 percent of all septic systems in the United States. And many of our sewage treatment facilities aren’t modern enough to filter out contaminants. A recent study found numerous pharmaceuticals in bonefish tissue, including antidepressants, birth control and opioids; some fish had as many as five different drugs in their system. Just like in humans, these drugs affect the way fish act—they are hyperactive and use up valuable energy with their erratic behavior, are less sociable, which impacts spawning, and are more inclined to exude risky behavior, so they’re not afraid of predators and mortality is much higher.

Biscayne Bay is experiencing fish kills that don’t have a single cause, which reflects the many threats to coastal habitats. Widespread seagrass die-offs have left open muddy bottom, poor habitat for prey species. Freshwater flows have been channelized, which leads to a faucet-

effect (either on or off), so salinity changes rapidly rather than the natural gradual change. Organisms that can’t handle the unstable flows die. Finally, increased nutrients from lawn fertilizers and stormwater runoff into Biscayne Bay lead to algae blooms that suck up all of the oxygen in the water, causing fish kills.

A fish kill in Biscayne Bay.

Photo: Cody Eggenberger

Algae due to too many nutrients covers red mangroves.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Direct drainage from roads introduces harmful pollutants into coastal waters.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Too many nutrients causes plankton blooms that kill seagrass, which is replaced by algae and open bottom.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

SEPTIC TANK

WELL HEAD

SOIL

Florida’s porous limestone and sandy soil increases the transport of nutrients from septic systems to coastal waters. Diagram: Thrive Creative Labs

Bad water quality may not always immediately kill fish, but it will leave its mark. Diseases are spread more easily among fish when they are stressed due to habitat loss and poor water quality. Anglers on both coasts are seeing more sportfish with rashes, tumors and other blemishes caused by bacteria and disease. (Pair above with photo #8: fish with tumor

Thanks to BTT, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We are working directly with Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) to address the habitat-related issues impacting our fisheries. The first step is to include habitat in fisheries management plans that currently focus on harvestrelated regulations. If this strategy were effective, species that are catch-and-release, like bonefish and tarpon, wouldn’t be in trouble. The goal is to work with colleagues at FWC, the University of Florida, and elsewhere to design a new way to manage fisheries that includes habitat. The first steps are to 1) protect natural habitats that have not yet been degraded or destroyed, and 2) restore the habitats that aren’t too far gone. BTT already has an extensive list of sportfish habitats in Florida that are prioritized for protection or restoration.

Habitat protection and restoration are solutions to human impacts, but they don’t fix the problem: infrastructure. Additional steps that must occur even as fisheries management takes on habitat include: convert septic tanks to sewer systems in appropriate areas; fix stormwater runoff and nutrient inputs that are contaminating coastal waters; stop altering natural freshwater flows and restore altered flows as much as possible; better regulate activities that remove groundwater from aquifers. For example, South Florida is operating on a decades-old approach that sends contaminated

water in channelized flows east and west, and blocks flow to the south. This is creating dirty freshwater plumes on both coasts and abnormally high salinity scenarios in Florida Bay. In other areas, the loss of groundwater flowing into estuaries, or the pollution of this groundwater, has led to ecological declines. Our fish and their habitats will continue to decline if we don’t address these issues. Habitats are the future of Florida fisheries and anglers are the voice for habitat.

A snook with a tumor. Photo: FWC

Juvenile snook require backcountry mangrove habitats as nurseries.

Photo: JoEllen Wilson

BTT collaborates with FWC to sample a restored nursery habitat. Photo: JoEllen Wilson

THE BAHAMAS

The top threat to the bonefish fishery in the Bahamas is habitat loss and degradation. To address this threat, BTT has been working with fishing guides, lodge owners, and collaborators to identify the most important habitats for bonefish.

Since bonefish have small home ranges, any damage to a flat will have direct effects on bonefish that depend on that flat.

The Bahamas’ flats fishery has an annual economic impact of $169 million. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Education is a key focus of Bahamas National Trust.

Photo: Justin Lewis

Dredging is a top concern for bonefish habitat conservation efforts.

Photo: Justin Lewis

Bonefish spawning migrations are threatened by coastal development that disrupts migrations or degrades habitat along the migratory route.

Bonefish pre-spawning aggregation sites are in shallow bays near deep water, so are often targeted for development of marinas and deepwater ports. Disrupting spawning will cause bonefish population declines.

Data from bonefish tagging studies have already been used to designate five new national parks and expand one park on Grand Bahama and Abaco. Additional information has been incorporated into proposals to the Bahamas government by Bahamas National Trust and The Nature Conservancy for more protected areas, which would include 25 new protections of bonefish habitats. Information on where bonefish form pre-spawning aggregations and where they spawn will be incorporated into proposals to protect these critically important locations.

A pristine flat in the Bahamas. Photo: Justin Lewis

A bonefish pre-spawning aggregation. Photo: Robbie Roemer

BELIZE

Increasing loss and degradation of coastal habitats in Belize is a cause for concern. Some development is permitted by the government, but much is illegal. Top threats include dredging of the flats to fill for development, clearing of mangroves, and damage to beaches.

A recent and growing concern is the destruction of islands on the flats and construction of over-water-structures. This was proposed at the now-abandoned Blackadore Caye, but is underway at Cayo Rosario.

With the flats fishery’s economic impact exceeding $55 million annually, the dependence of the artisanal and commercial fisheries on coastal habitats, and the appeal of Belize as an ecotourism destination, protection and restoration of coastal habitats should be a priority.

A mangrove lagoon is lost to development.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Mangroves were cleared and fill brought in to convert an offshore key into a resort.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

A Belizean guide and an angler search for bonefish at Ambergris Caye.

Photo: Nick Roberts

Unpermitted dredging at Cayo Rosario is damaging the flats famous for permit.

Photo: Addiel Perez

MEXICO

Much of the flats fishing on the Yucatán Peninsula of Mexico occurs in areas that are not developed or are protected. The famous permit fishery in Ascension Bay occurs within the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve, which provides essential habitat protection.

The southern coastline from south of Tulum to Xcalak has little development, and the excellent fishery reflects this. But plans are on the horizon to apply a Cancun-style approach to develop portions of the coast.

The juvenile tarpon fishery of Campeche is possible thanks to the protected status of the extensive mangrove creeks system north of town. These juveniles eventually join the adult population that prowls the western Gulf of Mexico.

As long as habitats continue to receive care and protection the fisheries should remain healthy.

An angler releases a juvenile tarpon in Campeche, Mexico.

Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

A permit landed in Xcalak, Mexico. Photo: Patrick Williams

A healthy seagrass flat. Photos: Dr. Aaron Adams

Norman Duncan The Angling Engineer

BY MONTE BURKE

A 77” tarpon with a 44” girth landed by Duncan on 12-pound test in 1972 in Homosassa, Florida.

Duncan set the 1966 MET Tournament record with this 25-pound 8-ounce kingfish.

35-pound kingfish caught in Key West in 1971 on 12-pound test.

Photos courtesy of Norman Duncan.

In the mid-twentieth century, the epicenter of the Florida inshore saltwater fishing world was the Tackle Box, a fishing shop located on the corner of 27th Avenue and U.S. 1 in Miami. It was owned by a man named Jack Primack, who also worked as a fishing guide on the side. The Tackle Box was the informal gathering spot of all of the big saltwater fishing names of that era—Stu Apte, Joe Brooks, Bill Smith, Bill Curtis and Joan Salvato (later known as Joan Wulff), among others—who came to check out the gear but also to gossip and chew the fat about lighttackle inshore fishing which was just then beginning to boom in popularity.

Norman Duncan worked at the Tackle Box at the time, wrapping rods and repairing reels. He was a teenager, caught in the early throes of his own fixation with anything to do with fishing. Whenever one of those angling luminaries showed up at the shop, Duncan made sure he was within earshot, eavesdropping on conversations, soaking up everything he could.

Soon enough, a few other boys around Duncan’s age also began to frequent the shop, drawn in by the scene and the chance to be near their fishing heroes. Duncan met these other teenagers, one by one—first John Emery, who would forever go by the nickname, “Little John,” then Flip Pallot and then, a little later on, Chico Fernandez, just after he escaped from a Fidel Castro-controlled Cuba.

The four boys became fast friends, bonding over their shared passion for fishing, and especially, fly-fishing in shallow water. Fernandez began to think of the group as the Four Musketeers. Over time, they would, collectively and individually, come up with significant innovations in tackle that made saltwater fly-fishing on the flats more accessible to the masses and, thus, more popular. Pallot and Fernandez would, of course, go on to become every bit as famous as the men and women they worshipped at the Tackle Box (Emery died tragically young from melanoma). But Duncan and his contributions to the sport somehow got a bit lost in the shuffle.

rent a boat and fish for snook from the beaches. “We’d go out there Saturday morning and fish all day and all night and all the next day and get home sometime Sunday night,” Duncan says.

Duncan was born in Asbury Park, New Jersey, the son of a telephone engineer of Scottish descent. His family moved to Miami in 1954, and there, Duncan began to fish with his father on the Tamiami Trail. Though they used spinning gear, Duncan was intrigued by the anglers he saw catching snook with fly rods. “I’d fly-fished before, in lakes for bass and bream, but seeing those guys got my mind turning,” says Duncan. “I wanted to try it in the salt.”

In time, Duncan became friendly with one of his angling heroes, Stu Apte, and began to fish with him on and around the Trail. They would borrow Apte’s brother’s car, drive to Marco Pass,

A little later on, Duncan was introduced to the flats fishery around Miami by a few of the Tackle Box regulars. Bill Curtis was in the process of figuring out the bonefish of Biscayne Bay at the time, and he took Duncan out on occasion. Duncan also tagged along with the guide, Buddy Hawkins, who was an early permit devotee. And the Tackle Box owner, Primack, would sometimes invite Duncan along on a busman’s holiday session on the flats.

But Duncan’s primary companions were his peers. Though he met the other members of the Four Musketeers in the late 1950s, it wasn’t until he returned from a stint in the U.S. Army in 1961 that the quartet began to really hang out together, all of them deep in the thrall of budding obsessions with fly-fishing in the salt.

Duncan—who would become a civil engineer and work on some of the bridges in the Keys that he used to fish from— was the problem-solver, straightforward in his approach to everything.

The men would meet in the evenings in the parking lots at the University of Miami—where they all went to school, at some point or another—and practice fly casting under the floodlights until the wee hours of the morning. On Friday nights, they would all gather at a restaurant off of U.S. 1 and settle into the same corner table—joined by an ever-changing cast of other anglers—and make plans for their weekend fishing over burgers. “We had money, we were passionate and we fished all over the place, for tarpon from the Keys’ bridges and for big bonefish on the flats off of U.S. 1,” says Fernandez. Says Pallot: “We did crazy things, like steal our parents’ cars at night and drive from Miami to Key West to fish off the bridges and try to get back before our parents woke up and realized their cars were gone. You can’t even imagine how fired up we were about fishing. It dominated our lives. We thought about it day and night.”

The most fired-up of them all, according to Pallot? “It was Norman,” he says. “Norman didn’t have time or interest in anything other than fishing. He didn’t date. He didn’t go to parties. He didn’t do anything but fish or think about fishing.” Shortly after Pallot got married, he remembers introducing his new bride to Duncan. “Norman was very gracious,” says Pallot. “He said, ‘it’s very nice to meet you.’ And then he immediately asked her, ‘do

you want to see my kingfish flies?’ He had a box of them handy to show her.”

The Four Musketeers came up with collective and individual innovations out of necessity—the bamboo rods they used couldn’t land the tarpon they hooked, their lines snapped, their reels exploded or corroded. When they could find nothing better to buy, they looked to do the improvements themselves. Most of the alchemy and down-and-dirty work on equipment was done in Duncan’s parent’s garage, where Duncan had a wood lathe and mandrills to turn cork handles, a rod-wrapper powered by a sewing machine motor, hooks, feathers and all sorts of lines. “We worked out of my garage because their parents didn’t want feathers and hairs all over their houses,” says Duncan. They tied new flies, tinkered with reels and made new rods. “We’d build a rod in the morning and fish with it that afternoon,” says Pallot. “We adjusted and modified every reel, rod and guide.”

There were many hits and many misses. In order to actually catch the tarpon they hooked from the bridges in the Keys, the quartet decided to try to use monofilament line, sanding it down into the taper of a fly line. It worked—sort of. They could hold the fish, but their reels couldn’t hold the stiff line. (This would eventually lead to the mass-market production of clear fly lines.) They got tired of barracuda snapping off their flies, so they tried to use two-feet of wire as a bite tippet. That didn’t work. “You’d throw out your fly line and the fly would remain in the boat because the wire was so heavy,” says Fernandez. But they eventually got it right, using shorter and lighter wire bite tippets. “One of us would get an idea, and the rest of us would kick it around and work on it and evolve it,” says Fernandez.

Emery was the absent-minded professor of the group, a messy genius distracted from some of life’s more quotidian tasks by deep thoughts. Even at a young age, the mannered and cultured Fernandez was a sensualist. He fished wearing tweed jackets and tennis sweaters tied over his shoulders. He enjoyed food and jazz and Cuban music, and appreciated the craftsmanship of a fine fly reel and the feel of a line loading on a good rod while casting. Pallot was already a philosopher king of the outdoors, and he would later grow a full bushy beard that somehow gave his thoughts and words more gravitas. Duncan—who would become a civil engineer and work on some of the bridges in the Keys that he used to fish from—was the problem-solver, straightforward in his approach to everything. “Norman always thought way outside of the box,” says Fernandez. “He had some misses, but also some big hits.”

Some of those hits included work on skiff design—for the Glenncraft boat company and on his own—that advanced the understanding of shallow water boats. Duncan invented what Pallot calls the “quintessential loop knot,” the Duncan Loop, which is still in use today. He was the first angler to apply the Bimini Twist knot to light-tackle angling. Unsatisfied with jumpy start-ups and general unreliability of the traditional metal and asbestos drags in reels, he started to incorporate Teflon, which changed the game. He invented new flies. “He came up with not two new flies, two-score new flies,” says Pallot. One of those flies remains a matter of dispute. Duncan maintains that his “Outside Fly”—which used long white saddle hackles for wings and a tail, white bucktail around the eyes, silver tinsel along the sides and some mixed blue and green bucktail tied across the top—was copied by Lefty Kreh and turned into his iconic “Lefty’s Deceiver.” Duncan says he confronted Kreh only once about the fly, and “he claimed the two flies weren’t the same, even though they were.” (Because of the highly derivative world of fly creation, it’s a dispute that will likely never be resolved.)

Norman Duncan featured in the Orvis News in 1969 for a fly-caught permit.

Norman Duncan coaches Congressman John Saylor as he battles a sailfish in 1968.

Duncan also was a pioneer of the tarpon fishery in Homosassa, which would become, for a short while, the focal point of the chase for the world record. In 1972—four or five years before the likes of Stu Apte, Billy Pate, Steve Huff and Tom Evans would show up there—Duncan, with his friend, Gary Maconi, landed a tarpon that he says would have topped the world record by 10 pounds or so. He let it go.

Duncan has also played a significant role in conservation issues, such as the creation of Biscayne National Park and the banning of commercial fishing in Everglades National Park, and the publications of many papers and articles on fishery issues. “I’ve always thought we could turn the tide to some degree if sport fishermen keep pushing for reforms in the conservation of our resources,” he says.

**

The Four Musketeers each eventually went their own way— supergroups don’t usually have a long shelf life. Emery would develop an innovative tarpon reel before he passed away. Pallot

and Fernandez jumped into lives centered on the outdoors. And Duncan, for a bit, nearly stopped fishing completely when he got married and had children. “He became as focused on being a good husband and father as he had been on fishing,” says Pallot. “We missed him.”

In recent years, Duncan, 81, has begun to ease back into the fishing world. He frequents Flamingo to fish for redfish and tarpon, and occasionally hires a guide to fish the flats near Miami and in the Keys. “My fishing is less aggressive these days,” he says. “But I still enjoy it just as much.” And that innovative mind is still at work. “I’m still tying flies and thinking about new patterns and all of the ways I can get better at this,” Duncan says.

“It’s so great to see his interest in fishing renewed in recent years,” says Pallot. “Welcome back, Norman.”

Monte Burke is the New York Times bestselling author of Saban, 4th And Goal and Sowbelly. His new book, Lords of the Fly: Madness, Obsession, and the Hunt for the World-Record Tarpon, is available now. He is a contributing editor at Forbes and Garden & Gun.

When they could find nothing better to buy, they looked to do the improvements themselves.

Duncan set the MET Tournament record in Key West in 1968 with this barracuda weighing over 24 pounds.

A closer look at the 35-pound kingfish Duncan caught in 1971, tying his own record.

Ewoud de Groot, Resting Terns (detail) | SOLD FOR $15,600

Kent Ullberg, Silver Ghosts | SOLD FOR $12,000

Mike Stidham, Silver King Circle | SOLD FOR $10,200

The Caribbean Specter of Sargassum

BY MICHAEL ADNO

For Ali Gentry Flota, the co-owner of El Pescador Lodge in Belize, the vast rafts of seaweed lapping the beach on Ambergris Caye seemed fitting for the beginning of a parable. In nearly every year since 2011, acres of sargassum seaweed blanketed the reef before forming mountain ranges along the shoreline.

Mere days after the stranded sargassum began to rot on the beach, a noxious gas emerged, and soon the eastern edge of the peninsula sat under a film of seaweed as the acrid scent of sulphur crept through town. In the past decade, the seasonal nuisance turned into an existential threat. Soon, dead bonefish dotted the beaches. The ocean-side flats were wiped clean of seagrass. And in turn, the presence of sargassum seemed to signal a broader shift throughout the Caribbean.

As a stopgap measure, Flota anchored a boom just offshore to keep the rafts of sargassum from reaching the beach. The $15,000 investment went nowhere. “I just threw good money after bad,” she said. Next, the town of San Pedro followed suit with little luck, abetted by a national taskforce that locals only scoff at when

asked. By 2019, Belize’s neighbor, Mexico, enlisted the navy to manage the influx of sargassum. While Mexico estimated the effort would cost $2.7 million, it grew tenfold, clearing $30 million by New Year’s Eve. That same year in Miami, the county’s Parks and Recreation Department spent $45 million removing sargassum from just 50 miles of coastline.

With the increased frequency and strength of hurricanes, development, and a warming climate, Flota didn’t mince words when she asked, “What do we expect?” But just like the storms that wind up off Cape Verde and churn across the Atlantic, sargassum forms another integral if not ancient part of the ocean’s rhythm.

The first rumblings of sargassum appeared when Christopher Columbus discovered a mat of seaweed stretching toward the horizon, what some called “the eighth continent.” By the 15th century, Portuguese sailors named the ever-changing boundary of floating seaweed in the North Atlantic the Sargasso Sea, deeming it unnavigable. For centuries, the mystery only deepened. By 1838, the first study of sargassum took place. Another followed in 1891. And finally, a third came in 1923, but few if any answers were

In the past decade, blooms of sargassum seaweed have blanketed the Atlantic from the Congo to Cozumel. What was once considered a floating rainforest has become a ghost haunting the entire Caribbean, revealing that the local effects have global counterparts.

revealed. It would take another century to understand why and how the Sargasso Sea formed.

In 2011, the Caribbean found itself inundated with sargassum as if a sheet had been pulled over the region from the Leeward Islands into the Gulf of Mexico. Soon, the decomposing tendrils collecting in bays and beaches from Barbuda to Cuba released their trademark hydrogen sulfide gas, and everywhere, the stench of rotten eggs hung in the air. Lovers cancelled honeymoons. Locals scratched their heads. And scientists couldn’t quite agree whether the phenomenon was a mystery or a plague.

In the following years, save 2013, blooms became omnipresent. In 2018, 20 million tons of sargassum stretched from West Africa across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, spilling into the Gulf of Mexico before slipping through the Florida Straits into the Sargasso Sea— garnering the title of “the Great Atlantic Sargassum Belt.”

In February last year, researchers at the University of South Florida’s College of Marine Science and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration took centuries of myths coupled with decades of data stretching back to the 1960s and showed just how

the phenomenon took shape.

In 2010, a medley of surface temperatures and salinity paired with a significant sargassum seed population spurred a massive bloom in 2011. The sequence, although interrupted in 2013, continued, and soon, sargassum blooms spread like wildfire. From 30,000 feet, the Atlantic between Ghana and Brazil almost glowed with sargassum. But what the new study revealed was that where the Amazon, Congo, and Orinoco Rivers meet the Atlantic, an unprecedented amount of nutrients, namely nitrogen and phosphorus—the residue of people— fed the blooms. In turn, the once benign and vital sargassum edged toward sinister.

In Belize, the first signs of change came when dead fish larvae staked the perimeter of Ambergris Caye. Soon after, moribund baitfish followed. And today, it’s not uncommon to see adult bonefish floating. Sargassum, while abundant and essential to many species when it remains offshore, becomes problematic when it blankets reefs, eliminating sunlight that animates coral and depleting the water of oxygen. The same holds true for grass flats, which out front of El Pescador have all but vanished in recent years.

Rafts of sargassum coat the Xcalak shoreline and nearby reefs. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

“That’s all gone,” said Flota. And what’s most concerning, she said, is the inextricable role those flats and shorelines play both in the lifecycle of juvenile permit and by proxy to the sort of ecotourism anglers enjoy. “It’s where permit grow up,” she said. It’s already bad, but as Flota says, “We won’t see the true impacts from a fisheries standpoint for ten years.”

“We have to first think regionally,” said Dr. Addiel Perez, Bonefish & Tarpon Trust’s Belize-Mexico Initiative Coordinator, pointing to the role that not only Central America and the Caribbean must play but also its counterparts in South America and West Africa, as well as the United States. Sadly, the story of sargassum has been one told in local news clips, of sleepy fly-paper towns strung along the coast

overwhelmed by the insurmountable wealth of seaweed. At its core, however, it’s a story that requires a larger stage to portray the confluence of warming sea temperatures, the imprint of industrial countries, and the sway of just how interconnected we all are.

In Colombia and Venezuela, runoff that filters into the Orinoco river eventually finds its way into the Caribbean, acting as a catalyst for sargassum just as fertilizer runoff in Florida spawns red tide and other harmful algal blooms. The same holds true for the Congo river as it empties into the Gulf of Guinea. But where the Amazon meets the Atlantic appears to be the site where this story becomes most troubling, because not only is that the largest source of freshwater entering the Atlantic, but over the past decade it’s where the nucleus of the bloom appears visible in satellite imagery. During that same period, as vast stands of trees were felled to convert rainforest to agriculture, fertilizer use throughout the Amazon River Valley increased by 67 percent.

In just the first six months of 2020, deforestation in Brazil increased by an additional 25 percent. By June, humidity in the region had all but disappeared. Smoke drifted above treetops. The Amazonian forest began to glow, and soon, fire crawled across the valley. Ultimately, the relationship between Brazil and bonefish 3,000 miles away becomes clear as currents carry nutrients into naturally occurring sargassum blooms, exacerbated not only by the run-off but also by the spoils of climate change.

As Dr. Perez said, “It’s difficult to understand what we can do.” For Belize, Mexico, and the entire Caribbean, countries make do by removing the sargassum in areas where recreational tourism thrives, but as the years pass, it doesn’t begin to address the larger question haunting all those involved. “There’s a huge knowledge gap,” Dr. Perez added. “How we address those questions is a challenge.”

In Xcalak, Mexico, just north of the Belizean border, Denisses Angeles, a resource manager for the region, recalls 2015 and 2018 as particularly awful years. For hundreds of miles, sargassum stood as testament to what the future might look like. As in Belize, dead

Mats of sargassum are often so thick they support the weight of large wading birds like great blue herons. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

Dead bonefish on a mat of sargassum and seagrass along a Yucatán shoreline.

Photo: Lazaro Garcia Lopez

fish larvae preceded baitfish, and inexorably, fish integral to the character of the place like bonefish followed. “Every year, we still have these problems,” she noted, but it isn’t only the loss of species that have always drawn anglers to the region and undergirded recreational tourism—it is also the loss of land that gives her pause.

In broad terms, sargassum has become just one more factor in the erosion of southeastern Mexico, Angeles says. When it hangs over the Mayan reef, it suffocates one of the most important barrier reefs in the Caribbean Sea. And once it reaches shore and begins to rot, the noxious gases begin to gnaw away at mangroves and dune vegetation, the coast’s second and most promising line of defense.

But maybe most tragically, municipalities like Xcalak are charged with removing the sargassum themselves, and with rakes, shovels, tractors, and backhoes, each pile removed results in a bit of the coast disappearing with it due to the sand that goes with the sargassum. Most upsetting to Angeles, among an innumerable number of concerns, is that sargassum is not the result of Mexico’s mismanagement, and yet that country, like so many others, bears the brunt of the fallout.

As Angeles said, the sargassum comes from elsewhere. “It’s international.”

In a year marred by an unprecedented hurricane season and a pandemic with a death toll still climbing, the threat posed by sargassum remained at the back of most guides’ minds as they scrubbed their calendars and boarded up their windows. And yet in San Pedro, Omar Arceo, a BTT Conservation Captain, sounded equal parts hopeful as he did exasperated. “We don’t know where to start,” he said.

As early as Arceo can remember, sargassum was present in

Belize, but not until 2014 did he take note when the stench washed over him as he approached downtown San Pedro. Suddenly, it was a problem. “It rots everything,” Arceo told me—a refrain I heard over and over.

Along the Caribbean side of Ambergris, sargassum quickly killed what were once fecund flats—the same flats where bonefish have lived for generations and juvenile permit have come of age. On shore, its sulfur was making quick work of stainlesssteel appliances, corroding them in a matter of months. And soon, it drove developers away from the eastern side of the key, concentrating new developments along the bayside where guides spend much of their year looking for bonefish, tarpon, and permit. While the bayside still teems with gamefish, the central element of the fishery here, Arceo worried about how much longer it would flourish given the increase in sargassum, storms, and development.

In an intricate dance that binds the mouth of the Amazon to Ambergris Caye and Africa to the Americas, what is playing out in San Pedro and in Xcalak hung over Arceo and other guides like a summer squall. If countries continue to approach the issue of sargassum individually, there is little if any hope for a solution. Aside from raising awareness about its origin, it’s become unmistakably clear that a regional if not global approach to manage the massive blooms is necessary. As Arceo said, “You can’t beat it with manpower.”

Michael Adno contributes regularly to The New York Times, The Surfer’s Journal, and The Bitter Southerner, where he won a James Beard Award for profile writing in 2019. He lives in his hometown, Sarasota, Florida, along the Gulf of Mexico.

Residents of Xcalak engaged in an all-too-frequent cleanup of sargassum. Photo: Dr. Aaron Adams

On the Bow

BY BILL HORN

The body of flats fishing literature continues to grow with the upcoming of release of On the Bow by BTT’s Vice Chairman Bill Horn. The new book is a captivating, informative, and often humorous look at the fish— bonefish, tarpon and permit—and fishing for the “big three” as well as the people and places that make the flats special. And all of it is backed by an unwavering conservation ethic that makes the case for why anglers should to be committed to fishery and habitat protection. Early reviews hail the book: Stu Apte noted, “the writing is so informative, it puts you on the bow of the boat and you can almost feel every movement of the fish.” Mike Lawson added, “Whether you’re new at the game or a grizzled expert, this work contains all the stuff you’ll need to know when you take your turn on the bow—the good stuff!”

Horn has fished the Keys for over 60 years, caught his first bonefish in 1974, took a few detours to be a fisheries professional as Assistant Secretary of the Interior for Fish & Wildlife under President Reagan and Chairman of the international Great Lakes Fishery Commission, and became a Keys resident 15 years ago. Horn also authored Seasons on the Flats, published in 2012. An excerpt from On The Bow from the “Places” section follows; published by Stackpole Books (Stackpole.com), an imprint of Globe Pequot, it will be available in July wherever books are sold. The book may be pre-ordered.

AN ANGLER’S EVERGLADES

The Everglades evokes a wide range of reactions. For some, Marjory Stoneman Douglas’s poetic River of Grass, flowing miles wide and inches deep from big Lake Okeechobee south down the Florida peninsula, comes to mind. Others see vast sawgrass prairies and mysterious dark waters under gray cypress strands. An urbanite driving from Miami to Naples grumps about a lot of nothing along I- 75/Alligator Alley or the Tamiami Trail while whizzing by at 80 mph. Many think of a big swamp filled only with alligators and mosquitoes behind the glitter and neon of Miami and Palm Beach. Nationally, the Glades is a potent symbol of our ability and resolve (very different things) to right environmental wrongs.

Anglers come to and appreciate the Glades differently. Virtually all of Florida Bay is within the Park. In fact, the Park’s southern boundary, 20 miles south of Flamingo, is an aquatic line running

parallel to and a bit north of the Keys and the Overseas Highway from Long Key to Key Largo. Florida Bay is an integral part of the Everglades being the receptacle of water that can flow all the way from the Kissimmee. The Bay is full of small mangrove cays getting more numerous as you push NE. Between the cays are huge flats many of which are drained dry by the tides—not good places to be stuck. Channels are few and far between and many are unmarked. To make matters worse, modern GPS machines can be very wrong about parts of the Bay. I’ve nervously steered my boat through winding narrow channels while the GPS insisted I should be 50 feet to the right trying to run on exposed seagrass! Matters are complicated by “pole or troll” zones where running an outboard is prohibited. And boaters now have to pass an on-line course about navigating the Bay to secure a boat permit to operate there. Too many clueless boaters have run over too many flats. Aerial photos of parts of the Bay show flats crisscrossed with propeller scars.

The Everglades is a vast, watery wild area, hiding behind Florida’s Gold Coast, degraded by water mismanagement. Photo courtesy of Dr. Stephen Davis, Everglades Foundation

Most of the “backcountry” flats fishing from Islamorada and Key Largo for tarpon, bonefish, snook, and redfish is conducted within the confines of the Bay and Park; these Park “visitors” never see an entrance station or a ranger. Much the same is true for the western edge of the Everglades. The 50-mile-long reach of wild black and red mangrove choked islands from Chokoloskee and Everglades City to sandy Cape Sable (the end of mainland Florida) are also part of the Park. These waters—where the Glades meet the Gulf of Mexico—are prime for snook, redfish, and tarpon, among others, and reached by long boat runs. I consider these two areas to be the “outside” zones of the Everglades saltwater fishery. And it offers a lot more than the glamour species. A chum bag and some bait make it easy to keep rods bent all day with a potpourri of species: snappers, jacks, ladyfish, seatrout, black drum, groupers, catfish, and sharks to name a few.

Still mornings in Florida Bay frequently reveal rolling, sighing tarpon.

catching tarpon from a canoe in Lostman’s, Broad, and Harney in the 1880s-all recorded, including unbelievable glass plate photographs, in his Book of Tarpon published in 1911. Tarpon fishing in the area can be so good that tournament anglers and guides will make the twohour boat run from Islamorada to reach these waters during the Gold Cup or the Hawley tournaments. The 60 miles from West Pass (the NW edge of Everglades Park) to East Cape is the last truly wild stretch of Florida coastline. Myriad cays and islands thickly overgrown with tall black mangroves and a mix of other tropical trees are utterly uninhabited.

Big tarpon are the main attraction of the “outside” fisheries. The Gulf portion features a series of rivers emptying from the Glades into the salt including the Chatham, Lostman’s, Broad, Harney, and Shark. Chatham is known for the location of Edgar Watson’s place. Reputedly a notorious killer, he was gunned down by his fearful neighbors in Chokoloskee in 1910. Peter Matthiessen told the story in his excellent novel Killing Mr. Watson, later incorporated into a larger superb book Shadow Country. A.W. Dimock was fishing for and

Florida Bay is a more famous and readily reachable tarpon locale. The big fish appear first in late January in the deeper (20 feet) waters off Cape Sable and its sandy wild beach. As it warms, the fish spread out to the southeast and can be found in famous basins and along bank edges with names whispered reverently by tarpon addicts: First National Bank, Palm Lakes, Sandy Key, and Oxfoot Bank, to name a few. If the weather cooperates and an angler can intercept a push of these early migrants, spectacular angling can be had. Tarpon will often roll in, literally, on an incoming tide busting mullet en route. Early season, happy, feeding poons are a great combination and well-placed flies quickly elicit foamy, gulping bites. Angler Paul Turcke and Capt. Ponzoa found such a combo near First National early in the 2015 season and boated 10 big tarpon in two days. This “early season” lasts into April. However, conditions need to be right and the fish in the right mood, as always, to assure success.

George Conniff and Capt. Bus hit it right one afternoon at Oxfoot. A number of tarpon had moved in and laid up. Despite murky water, they found enough fish for eight good shots and hooked seven—a spectacular batting average. Bus, Alex Good, and I returned the next day with the same weather almost identical tides and found more fish but couldn’t buy a bite. George figured we failed to provide a proper sacrifice to the tarpon.

Looking for laid up tarpon in murky Bay waters can create odd visual challenges. Fish are often hard to see and anglers and guides strain to pick up a bit of color, the shape of a tail, and discern which way a fish is facing. Throwing at the tail doesn’t earn bites. We spotted a bit of gray near the surface, poled closer to investigate, and the gray grew to sizeable proportions – a laid up monster. A welldirected cast earned only a boil of water and a large, round tailed manatee undulated away to rest elsewhere.

These experiences and others demonstrate that Bay tarpon too can be fickle, and taking advantage of the often short windows of opportunities is critical:

“March 25, Cape Sable, Scattered High Clouds, 80-85, Slick Calm in afternoon. Bus and I ended up off East Cape surrounded by wads of rolling tarpon. Unfortunately, they were in the roll and dive deep mode and showing zero interest in our offerings. I was ready to slit my wrists. Bus counseled patience thinking a pending tide change might get the poons to float up high and give us some good chances. An hour later the current slacked and sure enough the fish came up – just as the other boats departed and left us gloriously alone. Bus then located a pair of laid up fish at 2 o’clock facing to 12. I put a 1/0 Olive Mouse/Toad about 10 feet ahead, let it drift closer, and then a long sloooooow strip. A tarpon eased up, turned on the fly, and gulped it in. Set the hook, the 75-pounder launched immediately 40 feet off the bow and raced off. A knot in the fly line hit the rod guides and popped off the top two sections of the four-piece, 11-weight.

Backed off the pressure, reeled in the tip sections, partially picked out the knot, and the tarpon surged off this time with only the tip section dangling on the line. Got it back, Bus finished untangling the knot, we reassembled the rod and got down to fighting the fish – a real cluster foxtrot. Renewed pressure got more jumps then we had her boatside, got a good look, and broke her off. We now looked around to see numbers of other laid up fish and a few surface cruisers. Taking turns on the pole (and my poling abilities in 15 feet of water are piss poor) we fed five more in short order, jumped two, and got two. When it shut down at 5 p.m., we made an incredibly beautiful hour plus run S to Marathon across mercury slick Florida Bay colored silver/orange by the setting sun.”

Florida Bay and the remnant Everglades remain wild, mysterious, and intriguing. Big crocodiles eye passing canoes, manatees (so ugly they’re beautiful) surface unexpectedly, dolphins herd mullet in shallow bays, and great birds stalk the vast mudflats and roost among myriad mangrove cays. Dense jungles of black and red mangroves remain impenetrable. The fish are still there in numbers to make anglers smile and bring them back year after year to chase the silver tarpon or find the furtive snook. Sadness and anger seep in when you realize how spectacular it must have been not too long ago before the River of Grass was dammed, diked, and diverted, and the Bay pushed to the edge of death. You owe it to yourself to fish the Glades and the Bay. Develop your own appreciation of this special place and at the least, see it before it’s gone. With a little luck, that special angler’s appreciation might prompt you to join the ranks of those dedicated to restoring the Everglades system to some semblance of its prior greatness.

BTT board member Rick Hirsch bows to the Silver King—failure to bow lets the tarpon fall and break the 12 to 20 pound class tippet. [From the Fish & Fishing section].

Through the Guides A Q&A with Conservation Captains

The pandemic has affected all of us in many ways. How has your life changed in the last year?

I lost at least 95 percent of my business. But I always see a little silver lining. This gave us the thing we always look for: time. I went down to my hometown of Punta Negra and did some farming and spent time fishing with the kids, showing them more than I had been able to before.

How do you encourage marine conservation as a guide and business owner? We have to lead by example. As a business owner, when it comes time to make a decision, don’t do it based on short-term gain because the long-term gains go parallel with what is good for the environment. Take care of what takes care of you. It’s that simple.

You’ve done a lot of work to ban gill-net fishing in your area—why is this so important?

It’s hard to come to a ban, but I knew I would never stop. I’ve seen first-hand the damage that they cause, but I’ve also had the privilege to see fish that are now extinct because of the gill nets. It’s almost like I’m prehistoric to say that I was there when something was plenty, and now it’s completely gone. And that was because of those gill nets. As much as it’s been devastating, we will always reflect on 2020 as the year that we banned gill nets. And to be the only country in the world to have a gill-net ban, I’m even more proud to be a Belizean.

What was it like to transition from being a guide for various lodges to opening a business of your own with your brothers?

Owning our own lodge, especially working with my brothers, was a dream come true. If I had done it myself, it would’ve been sweet, but something about having to do it together was a special connection and a way to share what we love to do. It meant everything to us.

What is your favorite memory of being on the water?

At 10 years old, me and my little cousin went out and set a line on a homemade rig that I made myself. The next morning we saw the buoys diving down, so we knew we had a big one. It was an intense fight for 15 minutes before I even saw a glimpse of it, but after I saw it and it saw me, it was all over. I had just enough time to tell my cousin to put the hook on the edge of the boat so if the fish carried me underwater, the hook wouldn’t keep trailing. Two-thirds of my body was in the water, and my cousin was holding me by my feet. Two little guys of only 90 pounds, and we tried to pull this 200-pound Goliath of a grouper into the boat! Of course we weren’t successful, so we towed it home. It was the first time in my life I had the perfect excuse to be late for school.

What is your go-to permit fly?

I have one of my own, but it’s a secret! My other favorite right now has got to be that olive Camo Crab. It’s by SS Flies.

Who taught you how to fish? How old were you?

My father taught me how to fish on Biscayne Bay when I was very young. There are pictures of me fishing from before I can remember.

Why is Everglades restoration so important to you as a native Floridian?

Everglades restoration is so important to me because the Everglades are the lifeblood of our state. It doesn’t matter if you are a native Floridian or someone who just moved here—without the Everglades we lose the state.

Why should anglers be involved in conservation?

Simply because we as anglers and outdoors people have the most to lose. If we don’t all get involved, we will be the first to lose. If we don’t protect it, who will?

Where is your favorite place to fish? Why?

Although Charlotte Harbor is home now and will always hold a place in my heart, the Everglades would have to be my favorite place to fish. The Everglades has the most diverse fishery I’m aware of, and the size and remoteness of it make it special to me.

In what ways do you try to be an environmentally-conscious guide? I try to leave places I fish better than they were when I got there. I pick up other people’s trash, always practice safe catch and release and try to teach my customers some background about the areas we go to fish. I learned a long time ago that the more that people feel a connection to an area, the more they will try to help it.

What is your favorite species to pursue and why?

Tarpon are by far my favorite fish to pursue. Little ones, big ones—it doesn’t matter. They are a special fish. They aren’t easy by any means, and I think that’s why I love them. Sometimes I think tarpon and myself have a love-hate relationship. But that’s what keeps me coming back.

What is your go-to tarpon fly and tarpon lure?

My go-to tarpon fly is either a small foxtail baitfish pattern that I tie for fish up to 40 pounds or a foxtail worm pattern that I tie for larger fish. Just an FYI, tarpon will eat worm patterns no matter where they are— it’s not just a Keys thing.

Photo: Josh Greer

Captain Josh Greer

Captain Eworth Garbutt

Photo courtesy of Yellow Dog Flyfishing Adventures

Punta Gorda, Belize

Port Charlotte, Florida

The Dawn of Fly

BY T. EDWARD NICKENS

“Bonefish” Sam likely started it all. Ansil Saunders is quite sure of that. Born in 1919, Samuel Achilles “Bonefish Sam” Ellis was a beloved Bimini pastor, boxer, and renowned bonefish guide, and he was one of the first locals to pole a skiff in pursuit of the flats predators instead of anchoring up to take passing shots at fish. “He stalked the bonefish like deer,” Saunders recalls. “He was always catching more than anybody else, and all the other guides were watching.” Including Saunders, Bonefish Sam’s future brother-in-law, and an up-and-coming guide whose own mark on bonefishing history would prove as indelible as any. Saunders leans forward on his couch in his home on North

Bimini, elbows on his knees, his feet in flip-flops, and recalls the dawn of fly-fishing for bonefish in the Bahamas. At 89 years old, his memory is still sharp, his voice still strong, his laugh still genuine and frequent. He is one of the last remaining guides who remember the early days of guiding fly anglers on the flats of the Bahamas. Fishing led him to bear witness to times when fate and serendipity knotted his own life’s orbit to moments of consequence. In the 1960s, he was introduced to Martin Luther King Jr., who wrote drafts of both his Nobel Prize acceptance speech and his renowned 1968 “mountaintop” speech—which King delivered in Memphis just prior to his assassination—on

Pioneering travel, evolving tackle, civil rights, and the Crazy Charlie—the history of fly-fishing for bonefish in the Bahamas is a story worth hearing in first person.

Saunders’ bonefishing skiff. Seven years later, Saunders was at the crossroads of a different sort of history: He guided a Virginia angler to a 16-pound bonefish, a specimen that set a new all-tackle world record, and has yet to bested.

He holds close the old lore and the old ways, and he is always open to tell his story, cognizant this his is a chronicle wound up and bound up in the intertwined narratives of so many others. In that, he is not alone.

For those after bonefish on the fly, the modern pursuit might sometimes seem consumed with the new and the next. To meet a man like Ansil Saunders, and to hear the stories of others who were there at the birth of modern fly-fishing in the Bahamas, does more than offer a marker to the past. It helps illuminate what is so special about this place, and about this fish. Part of the allure of the flats may be the relief they offer from the temporal dimension: When you have a bonefish on a fly rod, the past, present, and future is alive in your hands, all in one moment, and time seems to still. But listening to the old stories, in the lilting accents of those

who lived them, underscores another verity: This history is neither terribly old, nor hardly finished.

Bimini had become a prized destination for big-game anglers beginning in the 1920s and 1930s, attracting the likes of Zane Grey and Ernest Hemingway. After World War II, sportfishing boomed, fed by peacetime exuberance and a rapidly transforming transportation industry that cut the flight times from the U.S. mainland to Bimini to the length of a long lunch break. At that time, Saunders recalls, Bimini islanders figured the highest, best use for a good bonefish was to sell it for marlin bait. A single bonefish brought $10, Saunders recalls, which was good money for a Bahamian family in the late 1940s.

It was easy money, too, more often than not, because bonefish seemed to be everywhere. And as an increasing number of biggame anglers saw the powerful runs put on by their marlin baits, the pursuit of bonefish for their own attributes took hold in the

A vintage photo of historic Deep Water Cay lodge on Grand Bahama Island. Photo courtesy of Deep Water Cay.

islands. Slowly, at first. And then not so slowly at all.

Basil Minns remembers the first time he ever saw a serious fly angler target bonefish. He thinks it was 1953. A native of Exuma, Minns moved to Nassau to work as a photographer for the Bahamas Development Board in the 1950s. John Alden Knight, who developed the famed Solunar Tables and wrote a 1942 book titled Modern Fly Casting, had been invited to Grand Exuma by the Bahamas Ministry of Tourism for a week-long exploration of the islands to plumb their possibilities as a bonefishing destination. Bimini had captured much of what meager spotlight had been focused on Bahamas bonefishing, and other islands were keen to have a place at the table. Minns was with the group on its first

foray to Sandy Point on Abaco Island. Knight was in his 60s at the time, and his eyesight was an impediment. “He couldn’t see too well on the flats,” Minns recalls. “But the charter captain, Milton Pearce, would say, A fish at 1 o’clock and 50 yards, and believe it or not, he would cast in that exact direction with the exact distance. It was incredible.”

Minns returned to Exuma in 1957, just as the original Peace and Plenty Hotel—now Peace & Plenty Resort—opened to capitalize on the growing interest in recreational fishing.

“Maybe they were a little premature in opening,” Minns laughs. Peace and Plenty Hotel hung its shingle in January of 1958 with 20 rooms. That year, Minns said, they had a full house only a single week in February. Undaunted, Minns soon had four skiffs and captains lined up on the boat docks, and two years later opened Minns Water Sports to rent boats. He went on to work for decades as a conservationist, and was one of the early entrepreneurs to pioneer bonefishing as a tourism sector in the Bahamas.

And the juggernaut was coming. Writers effused over both the fishing and the unspoiled landscapes. In 1966 a reporter for Sports Illustrated noted that real estate prices on Exuma had skyrocketed to as much as $25,000 an acre, from as low as $2.50 an acre just a dozen years prior.

While outside developers drove much of the interest, savvy and ambitious locals saw opportunity as well. Charlie Smith was the first native Bahamian to open a bonefishing lodge—Charlie’s Haven on Andros—which opened in 1968. It was a gutsy move. Casting the long rod was still an anomaly in many places. In 1969, the year Fly Fisherman magazine began publishing, guides on Grand Bahama still preferred shrimp to feathers. “They’re beginning to savvy fly fishing, now,” wrote the author, “but they still need to be humored.”

A former chef and calypso musician for the Andros Lighthouse

Bonefish legend Ansil Saunders. Photo: Justin Lewis

“Bonefish Sam” Ellis. Photo courtesy of Deep Water Cay.

Club, one of a number of Out Islands resorts that opened in the 1950s, it’s said that Smith once landed an 18- or 19-pound bonefish, which was subsequently eaten. But it was his invention of the most famous bonefish fly ever devised that helped cement his reputation. Smith died in December of 2018 at the age of 82, and in an elegiac obituary published in American Angler, Jerry Gibbs traced the hazy outlines of the invention of the Crazy Charlie. One of Smith’s own accounts posited that he tied it in the 1960s on the night before fishing Bahamas Prime Minister Lynden Pindling and Canada Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. He used chicken feathers and eyes made from the beads of a disassembled military dog tag necklace. Others would later weigh in that they tweaked Smith’s original recipe. Legend has it that the fly was originally dubbed the Nasty Charlie, a moniker made more family friendly after Leigh Perkins fished the fly on Christmas Island and began selling it through the Orvis catalog.

For Smith’s son, Andy—one of three sons to ultimately open their own bonefishing lodges in the Bahamas—time spent at Charlie’s Haven set him on a life course for which many contemporary fly anglers are grateful. Born in 1967, Smith is now known for hunting large, trophy bonefish—“not by luck, but by design,” he assures. He opened Broad Shad Cay Lodge, in the North Bight of Andros, in 2006.

Andy Smith grew up in an environment in which the pursuit of bonefish suffused nearly every conversation. Both his maternal and paternal grandfathers were guides. His days were filled with stories told by the early generations of greats: Ivan Neymour, Rudy Bell, Carl Moxie, Ralph Moxie, and William Brennan among them. Smith’s uncle, Joe Coakley, was the head guide at the Bang Bang Club, the renowned lodge on Pot Key that opened in 1934. Charlie Smith, in fact, tried to revive the Bang Bang Club before his passing. The Smith family still owns the property.

“It was exciting, to be honest with you, just to sit around and hear the conversations,” he recalls. “I didn’t want to be like Michael Jordan or anything like that. Growing up, you are inspired by what you see, and I knew I always wanted to be a fishing guide.” He got his wish at a preternaturally young age. When he was 11 years old, he was taking clients out before school. He started guiding full-time at 15.

Visitors today, Smith says, can barely grasp the challenges faced by both guides and traveling anglers in those earlier decades of fly-fishing in the Bahamas. Communication was fraught. Most anglers booked guides through the mail, which was challenging in the extreme. There was only one telephone in Behring Point, Andros, and it worked only twice a day. “And the premier guide at the time was also the phone operator,” Smith laughs. “So maybe we didn’t always get the message.”

Often, anglers simply showed up. Smith’s aunt was the maid at Charlie’s Haven, and she would meet the surprise clients and get them settled. The young boy would take them fishing before school while the word went out looking for a guide to hustle in for the clients.

And the guides had their own challenges. It was a 30-mile journey to pick up diesel fuel. There was no such thing as a flats skiff. No one owned a poling platform. Smith guided out of a 13foot Boston Whaler he poled from the side with a pine staff he cut and shaped by hand. The boats were loud and sloppy in the bow, so he poled them backwards when he had a single angler.

And the guides felt lucky to have a motor on their boats. “To see an outboard engine on the boat in the Bahamas, that was a big deal,” Smith says. “Only the fishing guides had outboard engines, because nobody else had access to that kind of money. Everybody else was still using a pushpole and oars or sails.”

The 16-pound world record bonefish landed by angler Jerry Lavenstein and guide Ansil Saunders in 1971. Photo courtesy of Ansil Saunders.

Andy Smith, the owner of Broad Shad Cay Lodge on Andros.

But as impressive as were the fish, in Smith’s view were the anglers themselves. The people who fished back then “were pioneers, trust me,” he insists. “They were explorers. People have no clue how remote and hard it was. And how far we’ve come.”

Those rough-hewn days at the dawn of fly-fishing in the Bahamas remain a fixture in the memories of many older guides. Percy Darville might nod his head and grin at Andy Smith’s recollection of his father’s telephone misadventures. Born in 1952 at Little Harbor in the remote Berry Islands, in the northwestern corner of the Out Islands, there were no phones at all when he was a child. His father never associated with a fishing lodge, but worked as an independent guide for both bonefishing and bluewater angling. He had a personal call sign for the ship-toshore radio at the local marina, and would drop by the marina twice a day to pick up any messages.

Darville was one of 10 children, and he dropped out of school when he was 13 to help support the family and help his father. Three years later he landed at Chub Cay Lodge, on the south end of the Berrys, where his inauguration into the fly-fishing scene was as daunting as it was auspicious.

The youngest of the lodge’s nine guides, Darville admits to feeling a bit of performance pressure. He remembers the first time he ever met a client who wanted to fly-fish. “Nobody really knew anything about it,” he says, “and all the older guides were afraid of getting hooked with a fly. But I was the young guy, the challenger, so I stepped up.” He ran from Chub Cay to Ambergris Cay, and fished until a midafternoon storm chased him and his client off the water. His client hooked five bonefish on the fly, and landed three. “I didn’t know the first thing about fly-fishing,” Darville says, “but I guess I handled the boat good. And I took off right from there and stuck with it. I saw they were scared of the fly-fishing, and I put more time and effort into being a better fly-fishing guide.” Darville fished out of Chub Cay until November of 1984. He moved to Great Harbour Cay the next year. He’s been guiding there since.

And just as Andy Smith views those early anglers as pioneers, Darville credits them with helping the Bahamian guides build the specific skillsets needed to take advantage of the growing interest in fly-fishing for bonefish. Those early anglers flew to the middle of nowhere, with their own equipment, to stand in wooden skiffs with tiller-handle 33-power outboard motors, to build hand-in-hand with locals an entirely new industry. “Every time I made a mistake,” Darville recalls, “they would show me in a nice way how to do it. Guiding the fly-fishing is difficult. When it comes to the winds and the tides, we prayed a lot! They knew it was all new to us. But it was those clients in the early days that really got us started.”

**

It’s difficult to imagine what those pioneering clients of bygone days might think of Bahamian bonefishing today. They might be astonished to learn that their early passion helped seed a love for these fish and the places where they live that has galvanized an international community for conservation. They would, no doubt, be pleased to hear the last names of so many who pole the bonefish flats today. And they would recognize something else.

“Someone asked me when I was young what I wanted to be when I grew up,” Andy Smith recalls, “and I said: I want to be a fishing guide. A few years later someone asked me the same question, and I said: I want to be the best fishing guide in the world. I’m still working on that, because I will never get there. I remain hungry for it. Trust me on this: I go to bed thinking about this, and I wake up thinking about this.”

Anyone ensnared by the beauty of a Bahamas flat—past or present, and no matter the island—knows the feeling.

An award-winning author and journalist, T. Edward Nickens is editor-at-large of Field & Stream and a contributing editor for Garden & Gun and Audubon magazine. His latest book, The Last Wild Road, published by Lyons Press, will be available May 1. Follow him on Instagram @enickens.

Bimini bonefish guides circa 1970.

Make Clean Water And Healthy Flats A Part Of Your Legacy.

Consider making a planned gift to Bonefish & Tarpon Trust to ensure the health of the flats fishery for generations to come.

Learn more by visiting: www.btt.org/donate/legacy

Photo: Pat Ford

BTT Welcomes Parker Ucan Bertram as Youth Ambassador

BY MIRANDA WOLFE

Nine-year-old Parker Mateo Ucan Bertram is not only BTT’s youngest Youth Ambassador, but the first from Mexico. His sincere passion for fishing and marine conservation is evident in his application for the program. “Conservation is important to me because we live in nature,” he wrote. “We have to take care of our natural resources so we have a place to fish, swim and enjoy.”

Parker was taught to fish before he can remember by his father, BTT Conservation Captain and renowned guide, José Ucan, but he possesses a talent on the flats that no one could teach. According to his mother, Lily Bertram, who co-owns La Pescadora Lodge in Punta Allen with her husband, José, “He has been hand-lining since he was a toddler, and a friend gave him his first fly rod when he was four.”

After landing his first bonefish that same year, Parker went on to catch both his first tarpon and first permit on fly before his ninth birthday—as well as his first grand slam! With his angling skills and passion for conservation, it’s no wonder that Belize-Mexico

Program Coordinator Dr. Addiel Perez nominated him to become a BTT Youth Ambassador.

While he normally fishes on the town dock in his hometown of Punta Allen, in front of his parents’ lodge or in Ascension Bay, Parker says he’ll cast a line “wherever I am that has water!” His favorite species to catch are barracuda, cubera snapper and, of course, bonefish. In a recent interview with BTT, Parker was excited to share about his favorite fishing trip to Las Salinas, Cuba, where he caught a whopping six bonefish in just two hours. He also was quick to add that it was not the most he’s ever caught in one day, admitting “I dunno” when asked how many fish he landed on his best day on the water. There were too many to count!

Despite a fishing record that rivals that of a much older angler, Parker is only a fourth-grade student at the primary school in Punta Allen. His favorite subject is “formación ética y civic,” (ethics and civics). When he’s not on the water or in school, Parker enjoys spending time cooking and baking, fly-tying, playing soccer and hunting for scorpions.

Parker and his father, José. Photo: John Wolstenholme

Parker has had the opportunity to grow up in an incredibly unique ecosystem. Punta Allen lies in the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve in Quintana Roo. The Mayan name “Sian Ka’an” translates roughly to “birthplace of the sky,” perfectly illustrating the beauty of the region. Punta Allen, the largest town in the reserve, sits on the shores of Ascension Bay, one of the two massive bays that define Sian Ka’an. The bay’s various ecosystems provide shelter for marine wildlife and vegetation, resulting in a picturesque area to fish on pristine flats.

Growing up on the crystal-clear waters of Ascension Bay not only established Parker as a strong angler but also as a dedicated conservationist. When on the flats, he is sure to only drink from reusable water bottles and pack his lunch in a lunchbox instead of a plastic bag. In an effort to keep the waters of Ascension Bay as beautiful as they always have been, Parker, his mother and little brother, Romeo, often head to the beaches to clean up any trash left behind by visitors or washed ashore during storms. During their most recent clean-up, the boys and their mother collected and properly disposed of “flip flops, toothbrushes, bottles, bottle caps (“so many bottle caps”), combs, disposable utensils…” The list goes on. A young man wise beyond his years, Parker told BTT, “It’s important to pick up trash and make sure our trash doesn’t end up in the water. It makes me sad to see all the trash washed up. As a global community, we need to stop throwing our trash into the ocean.”

As a BTT Youth Ambassador, Parker looks forward to inspiring fellow anglers to join him in protecting our oceans and beaches. He is also eager to teach his peers about proper fishing practices in order to ensure a healthy future for the fish in Ascension Bay and beyond.

When he’s not on the water or in school, Parker enjoys spending time cooking and baking, fly-tying, playing soccer and hunting for scorpions.

Parker with an Ascension Bay bonefish. Photo: John Wolstenholme

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