8 minute read
Going Coastal
by KELLY GROCE :: TF&G Contributing Editor
Off to a Roaring Start with Texas Tarpon
IAM KELLY GROCE, NATIVE Texan and water lover. I have been addicted to shing since I was a child, and it is all my father’s fault. My most fond childhood memories are ones of me and my family o shore shing on the Grady White. So much that my mother started to worry I was not going to make many friends because we were always out in the Gulf.
I began combining my passion for shing with creative writing and photography while a ending college at the University of Houston. I am very humbled by this opportunity to write for Texas Fish & Game Magazine and will work hard to supply you with quality content to enjoy. So, let’s start with where my head is currently at: tarpon.
Built big and bad, tarpon will literally ght for their own life until their death. ey have been on planet earth for over 100 million years and can live to be around 80 years old. No wonder this prehistoric sh is spoken about so highly and with so much game.
Out of all the sh I heard about growing up, tarpon was the one that intrigued me the most. My great aunt, Bea Milsapps, won the Deep Sea Round Up (originally called the Tarpon Roundup) with two huge silver kings back in 1959.
I’ve read numerous articles about people’s strenuous ba les with tarpon and even stayed at the Tarpon Inn in Port Aransas, Texas where hand sized scales dating back to the ’30s decorate the lobby walls. From the old salts at the docks to my father’s shing buddies, everyone respects the king.
I got my rst glimpse into the world of the almighty tarpon by shing o South Padre Island, Texas last summer with Capt. Brian Barrera. It was one of those days where everything aligned. Calm, green seas with pelicans diving into huge visible bait balls o the beach.
We set out perfect-sized menhaden dri ing o the back of the boat. It was deliriously hot, and all you could hear was the ocean slapping up against the hull of the boat. e silence was quickly interrupted by what sounded like a boulder being dumped into the water followed by screaming drag. A 180-pound poon inhaled one of the baits and took o charging like a bull that saw red.
Capt. Barrera started up the motor and chased down the sh with the boat as I reeled in fast as possible to catch up with it. is monster took me out to deeper water and then back to the sand bar about four times. ere was a chance or two where I got to stare at the tarpon by the boat. My lord! I was in total awe. My adrenalinewas at an all-time high, I could feel the slack in the line which meant the sh was about to jump.
Before I knew it, the monster came blasting out of the water violently shaking its enormous head and broke my thick leader. I sat on the cooler for what felt like an hour in pure silence. I was happy, sad, excited, tired and mad all at the same time.
About two hours later, with the same set up, we jumped ve more 150+ pounders. A er an incredible yet heartbreaking day, I completely understood why anglers become obsessed and downright crazy for chasing big tarpon. e roller coaster of highs and lows that these silver kings sent me on, le me wanting more.
Shortly a er that trip, I caught a juvenile tarpon that helped take the pain away. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that I have replayed that rst jump in my head over and over again.
Summer into fall is the time for chasing big, migratory tarpon. Knowing what to expect this time around, tarpon season could not get here fast enough.
Capt. Barrera and I recently had the day o and the winds were light, so we decided to check out the je y. We slow-cruised past the tip and saw several rolling tarpon. ere were tons of crabs and schooled up nger mullet swimming along with the tide. We cast our 1-ounce D.O.A. Baitbusters out and let them sink down below the big schools of bait followed by a steady retrieve.
We were surrounded by feeding poons. It just so happened that I had decided to get my camera out when Capt. Brian hooked up to a 30 pounder. Silver as all get out, this tarpon put on an awesome spectacle for us as I snapped the shu er.
Pu ing in blood, sweat and tears, Capt. Brian Barrera has been chasing and studying tarpon for years. ese sh can do a number on your mental state.
When Brian hooks up to one, it is incredible to see him reap the rewards of all his hard work. No ma er the size, catching a Texas tarpon is an accomplishment, and the chase makes it all that much more rewarding.
Capt. Brian Barrera wins a hard fought tarpon battle.
Email Kelly Groce at ContactUs@fi shgame.com
THE KEY DEER (Odocoileus virginianus clavium) is the smallest whitetail subspecies topping out at 60 pounds and living exclusively in their namesake islands on the Florida coast.
Seeing a herd of Key deer on my honeymoon in 1999 was a special moment that fulfilled a childhood dream born out of a fascination with all things wildlife—especially the rare and unusual. Seeing them last July during a Florida fishing expedition was just as exciting.
I would love to share photos of the massive (by Key deer standards) buck from that expedition, but they were destroyed along with many others when Hurricane Ike ravaged my hometown in 2008. Just as those photos washed away with storm surge, a series of hurricanes have played havoc on Key deer.
Most recently, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) officials, Hurricane Irma in 2017 killed 21 deer with an additional dozen killed in the chaotic aftermath. With the latest estimates showing only 949, that hurts.
For perspective, I have hunted on a single 5,000 acre low-fence Texas ranch with more whitetails than that.
Additionally, an old foe last seen in the U.S. more than 30 years ago, hit the Keys hard in 2016. But Texans came to the rescue.
Doctor Lopez is director and coprincipal investigator for the Key deer study, San Antonio, a project of Texas A&M University (TAMU). TAMU, along with various agencies including USFWS, alleviated the crisis by preventive treatment and fly eradication efforts. This included feed stations lined with anti-parasitic medications and releasing 60 million sterile male screwworms to mate with wild female flies and curb reproduction.
That is a big effort for a little deer, but there is much love for them among
those who understand their delicate existence. A single disease outbreak or storm could literally wipe out the population. en again, the species has proven resilient. e screwworms mainly took out mature males and researchers believe there are enough young bucks to replace them. At the three-year mark of the outbreak things are looking up.
In the 1950s their population was down to 50 when the Boone & Crocke Club (B&C) donated $5,000 to hire a game warden named Jack C. Watson to protect them from poachers. Eventually, this action and his e orts were heralded as saving the species altogether. is action of the B&C is virtually unknown outside of the club itself and a few people in the Keys. I found it out while doing some serious research on the species a few years ago. is is literally a case where hunters stepped in and saved a species outright. e photos you see in this article are from my July 2021 expedition to the Keys. ey show both the beauty of the deer and the fragility of their existence. e Key deer will most likely survive, but it’s up to those who love and respect these diminutive creatures to keep a watchful eye on them and ensure there is always a place for them among the ever-increasing human population of the region. I can think of no other endangered animal that spends such a huge amount of its time around civilization.
is species is symbolic of the future for many species. ey only can continue to exist in the shadow of man, and it is up to man to make that possible.
I wrote this article to celebrate how a much-heralded Texas institution saved these animals and to tell the story of B&C’s role in their survival. I am also doing it to reach out to all you hunterconservationists reading this article.
If you can think of creative ways to help these deer or raise funds for existing projects, email me at chester@ chestermoore.com. Having hunters involved in the Key deer’s future is a personal goal, and it’s something I believe would help the species dramatically.
