When the Fog Clears

My Great Uncle BB navigated his way through a winding bayou in his 16-foot Montauk Boston Whaler. My cousin, Hugh, and I were only 11 or 12 years old. We’d never seen fog like this. We probably had but not from this vantage point. Looking back I can only imagine how challenging it must have been plodding through that soup without the luxury of modern electronics.

I distinctly remember the sound of Caterpillar diesels permeating the heavy blanket of fog that morning as oyster boats made their way out to the harvest areas. By the time Uncle BB had found his way to our first spot our yellow slickers were dripping wet. It was dead calm; I could hear and smell everything around us. My level of anticipation increased with every mullet flip. I knew what life lurked beneath because of all of the mornings I’d seen him come in with giant trout and redfish.

With his calloused hands he reached into the dip net and grabbed each of us a live finger mullet and told us where to hook them before casting toward the small reef. We put our Ambassadeur 5000C reels to the test as we caught redfish as fast as we could bait our lines. It was what dreams were made of…but this was just the beginning.

“Okay, boys. Y’all reel ‘em in. Time to go catch some trout.” After what seemed a lengthy boat ride into the abyss he eased the Whaler into a small area where two reefs merged in the shape of a V.

“Hughie, Stevie, you boys smell that? That’s trout!” He then slipped the anchor over and proceeded to rig our lines with MirrOlures - 52MR21to be exact. While casting into the V in about 5 feet of water we caught trout after trout ranging from 2 to 4 pounds. Hugh and I couldn’t believe it. The tugs… the pure smell of trout slicks…the laughter. We didn’t want it to end but his old metal ice chest had reached its limit and it was time to go.      

I’ll never forget the look on his face as he pointed the bow of that old Whaler toward the fishhouse and steered through a fog that never seemed to lift. With his old welding cap, black-rimmed glasses, and cigarette dangling from his lips he wore a smile of genuine satisfaction that I’ll never forget. As we arrived safely to the dock we were greeted by our old friend Bill Hudon, the local crabber. He had just unloaded dozens of giant blue crabs that would soon be sold in the retail market. I didn’t realize it at the time but it was a trip of a lifetime for us kids.  

Fishing was good. Shrimp, crabs, and oysters were all bountiful. Everyone I knew from nine to ninety got to enjoy the plentiful resources God had bestowed upon our thriving bay. Life was definitely good on the bayou, a dream I thought would never end.  

Then one day the fog lifted. Most of my cousins and friends who I fished, shot pellet rifles, played neighborhood football, and built forts with eventually grew up and moved away. Uncle BB is now catching nine pound trout every cast in a much better place. Hopefully, crabber Bill’s traps are staying full in Heaven. Me, well after a brief stint away during my college years I couldn’t help but come back. I’m not exactly sure how or why it all happened the way it did but I suppose there was a reason. It’s in my blood, I guess. 

So here we are, forty years after that foggy morning where dreams came true on that little Galveston Bay reef. I wish I could say that not much has changed since then but the fact is quite a bit has. 

The majority of the changes that have taken place are because of natural phenomena. I have mentioned it many times in past articles and it has been talked about ad nauseam but it bears repeating; Hurricane Ike in September 2008 dealt the most devastating blow to Galveston Bay of all natural disasters combined in the last twenty-five years. Most initial estimates indicated that Galveston Bay lost more than 12,000 acres of live oyster reef as a result of silting. Later estimates were even higher.

Droughts and floods have directly and indirectly contributed to further damage to our bay’s primary habitat. The years 2009 through 2014 saw some of this area’s most severe drought. Parasites that thrive during periods of high salinity such as Dermocystidium marinum, oyster drills, and sponges further devastated oyster reefs. Spring floods of 2015 and 2016 stacked trout for ambitious anglers and became easy pickings. Little did we know at the time but what would happen the following year would render the two previous year’s occurrences irrelevant. 

Flooding from Hurricane Harvey in August of 2017 not only killed many of the remaining live reefs but also dropped salinities to near zero, thus flushing out the majority of spotted seatrout and many other species. The only silver lining was that despite the oyster mortality, the fresh water purged the bay of those high salinity thriving parasites leaving the valuable substrate available for new oyster growth when salinities would return to suitable levels.

In addition, years of natural erosion as well as ship traffic have caused many once thriving oyster reefs to all but disappear. 

The most recent blow we were dealt was of course the February 2021 freeze. Some areas lost more fish than others but, overall, it seems that it could’ve been far worse. I thought the emergency trout regulations enacted by Texas Parks and Wildlife was a prudent response and should help accelerate the healing process, especially if Mother Nature will cooperate for a few years.

There have been many new regulations adopted on the commercial and recreational side of the ledger in recent years.  Here are a few standouts: 

The flounder season closure from November 1 through December 14 this past year (and moving forward) I felt was maybe a little too aggressive considering all the uncontrollable variables (mainly water temperature) influencing the spawning and migration habits of southern flounder. From what I witnessed; water temperatures were above normal during the six week closure. As a result flounder stayed in the bays and even up rivers and bayous until very close to the end of the closure period. At that point hundreds if not thousands of flounder were ripe for the taking when the clock struck 12:00 AM December 15 and the bag limit reverted to five fish.

Reducing spotted seatrout limits to five fish coastwide has been one change that I personally campaigned for and I believe will show great benefits if we can maintain the right salinities and adequate habitat to keep these fish in our system for at least one full life cycle (9 or 10 years). This year has actually started out pretty strong with more four and five-year-old trout than I expected. 

On the commercial side (oysters), Texas House Bill 51 (HB51) (final version) passed in 2017. The main parts of the bill include the following:

• Harvest limit reduced to 30 sacks
• Prohibited harvesting within 300 feet of shorelines
• Reduced tolerance of undersized oysters (<3inches) from 15% to 5%
• Enhanced penalties for violations
• Reduced harvest days from 6 to 5 per week
• Requires oyster dealers to return 30% of annually harvested shell to the bay or pay equivalent fees to TPWD.  In addition, there was already a “shell tax” paid by dealers designed to fund the TPWD for cultch purchases.
• In addition to what’s stated in the final version of HB51, the original version established a commercial oyster license buyback program and vessel monitoring system requirements.
• TPWD has the authority to close public reefs to harvest when 65% or more of oysters on the reef drop below 3-inches.

A few years ago I went on a cruise with my family. The first night the ship reached international waters I found my way to the blackjack tables. I got on a roll and won quite a bit of money. The next night I started out betting my winnings (house money). There was only one problem. This was a seven day cruise and it was only my second night. I’ve learned from experience that if you play long enough the casino is going to eventually get it back. Well that’s exactly what happened.

For years we’ve been playing with house money when it comes to our bays. Mother Nature hasn’t been kind in recent years. The human population isn’t shrinking and our bays aren’t getting any larger. There’s only so much we can do and I truly believe we’re doing our best. One glaring problem I see is that folks always want to find someone to blame.  More often than not, when this happens, a tug of war ensues among user groups. We have to understand that we do not control our fishery. We only impact it and when naturally occurring events cause major changes then everything we do from that point forward gets placed under a microscope. 

We shouldn’t choose sides. It’s necessary to take a few steps back, assess the situation and do our very best to come together to achieve common goals. It’s important to involve people with hands on practical knowledge as well as academia when making decisions. Decisions made independently by either group are usually not beneficial to all stakeholders. Ecological and economic impacts must both be considered. There are no simple solutions and passing new regulations isn’t always the answer. Our primary focus should be coastwide habitat restoration focusing on the hardest hit areas first using funding that has been allocated for such.