Indiana

Dan Jessup is the property manager at the Cikana State Fish Hatchery in Martinsville, Indiana. I sent Dan a letter describing 'Fishing America' and I enclosed a copy of my fishing contract which had been written with his name as the Indiana fisherman and the Redeared Sunfish, a bream in the sunfish family had been chosen as the fish we would try to catch. After eight months without a reply, I wrote again, asking if I should find someone else. Dan wrote back right away, saying that he was interested but that the contract was a little intimidating. He said the part stipulating he would have to do 100 hours of volunteer work for the Indiana Nature Conservancy was too much for him. Besides, he added, “I prefer Ducks Unlimited.” I changed the contract to 10 hours of volunteer labor for Ducks Unlimited and asked him if he’d take the time to sue me if I didn’t show up. He signed the contract.

I arrived at the hatchery on a warm September morning to find that Dan wasn’t there. The guy in the office was real friendly, so I chatted with him for awhile. Noticing a baby Gar in a fish tank, I wondered aloud where it had come from.

“We drained the pond this year and found this little sucker in there,” the man said. “We’ve got Musky and northern and Tiger Musky and Bass and Bream and Catfish in that pond, so this must be one smart little sucker to avoid being eaten by such critters.” I had just met this guy, so I avoided the obvious joke, "Little sucker? Don't you mean little gar?"

“I’ve been told they make pretty good pets,” I said instead.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“Does he respond well? A guy I fished with in Florida told me he caught a baby Gar and put it in a fish tank. It had an interesting personality and would come up and beg for food. It got so big he had to let it go.”

“Yes, they’re fun to watch when they eat because they strike sideways. They usually strike with their prey ending right at the tip of their nose. Then they work on it, getting it turned sideways, and finally they swallow it.”

He told me Dan was at home, getting ready for our trip. He gave me directions to the house, and off I went.

“I’m not quite ready,” Dan said apologetically when he answered the door.

“That’s fine.”

“We’re going to a spot near New Castle. Its east and a little bit north, about an hour and a half away. It would make more sense if we drove separately, since you’ll be going straight on to Tennessee from there.”

“Do we have to rent a boat?”

“No. I’ll just haul mine.”

The reservoir we were going to was about 700 acres—not real big. “Any size motor is allowed,” Dan told me, “but you have to idle the whole time. If we can get the motor running, we’ll be all right. It worked the last time I ran it.”

“You don’t go fishing very often, I take it.”

“I really don’t get out very much. We went up to Lake Gogebic in Michigan last July and spent a week vacationing there.”

“It’s nice in the Upper Peninsula, but I think it’s wonderful here, too. I got off the highway and took back roads this morning. I got lost, but the scenery was worth it. When I asked in town how to get to the hatchery, they had never heard of the place.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dan said. “Most people are familiar with Grassy forks, the big Goldfish hatchery that’s right next to us.”

“They raise Goldfish outside?”

“Yeah. They’ve got a couple hundred acres with maybe 500 ponds. They’re taking Goldfish out every day. They ship them around the world, to Europe, Japan, China, everywhere.”

“I’ll bet fishing for goldfish would be fun,” I said. “There’s lots of Goldfish in Lake Michigan. I went to school in Chicago, and I used to go down to the docks on the lake and see all these Goldfish swimming around under the boats and yachts.”

“That’s not hard to believe. People need to have someplace to throw their unwanted Goldfish.”

“Someone once told me that they’re in the Carp family, but they’re not, are they?”

“Well, there is no Carp family. There’s a Minnow family, and carp are in the Minnow family and so are goldfish. Carp and Goldfish are closely related, but they’re different, a different species. People think that goldfish turn into Carp. Just like there are different kinds of Carp, there are different kinds of Goldfish. There are a lot of different sub-species in the ornamental market and lots of different strains, like one called a Moore that’s black with big bug eyes that kind of stick up. It’s an ugly thing.”

I noticed Dan’s fishing reel. “I see you have a Mitchell reel. That’s what I use sometimes, though I prefer my ultralite. When I’m fishing for bigger fish, I use my Mitchell 300. How many kids do you have, Dan?”

“Two. They’re 9 and 12.”

“I’ve got five. We are going to fish with live bait?”

“Yeah, night crawlers. I’ve never fished for Redeared Sunfish, but I talked to someone who fishes in the lake where we’re going, Summit Lake, and that’s what he fishes for. His method is to hook a night crawler through the collar and throw it out. You don’t even need a sinker. It sinks to the bottom and just sits there.”

“Redeared Sunfish feed off the bottom?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty much bottom feeders. In the South, they’re called Shell Crackers and people fish for them with snails. The things they normally consume are on the bottom, but like most fish, they’ll take any opportunity when it knocks, no matter the location.”

“I’ve heard there are thirty-some members in the Sunfish family.”

“I’ll bet there are. What we call a bass is a Sunfish.”

“I was talking to a guy about white bass the other day, and I said, ‘They’re in the Bass family.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, I know they’re in the Bass family.’ And I said, ‘I bet you think the Largemouth Bass is in the Bass family, too,’ and he said, ‘Yeah,’ and I said, ‘well, it’s not.’”

Dan must have been afraid he was going to forget something because it took him a long time to get his gear together.

After Dan told me how much he envied me for being able to fish all 50 states and after I told him how it involved a lot of work and worry, we climbed into our cars and I followed him to Summit Lake. On the way, a van from Missouri squeezed in between us and then slowed down. Whenever I’d try to pass it, the van would speed up. This happened over and over, and Dan kept getting further and further ahead of me. It was a frustrating trip, and I was happy when it was over.

At the boat ramp, I asked Dan if he used a depth finder. He said he did.

“That’s basically the secret to fishing, isn’t it?” I asked.

“It means a lot,” he said. “It’s so much easier to look on the screen and see where you are. Of course, if you fish the same lake over and over, you don’t need it because you learn the lake.”

“Does your wife like to fish?”

“Yep.”

“Do your kids like to fish?”

“Yep.”

“It’s a family disease, eh?”

“Yep.”

Dan’s Redeared Sunfish expert had given him a map of the lake, with notations showing where we were most likely to find the fish. We headed for the closest marked spot, which, wouldn’t you know, was located on the other side of the lake.

During the boat ride, Dan talked about the lake. “This area originally was part of the Big Blue River Conservancy District,” he said. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with conservancy districts, Larry, but folks get together and form a watershed conservancy district. It’s done under Public Law 566. Typically, small reservoirs are created as a means of flood control, with funding help from the federal government.”

“That’s an awfully big heron,” I interrupted. “What kind is it?”

Looking up, Dan identified it as a blue, then continued, “The area around here is full of underground caverns—limestone. I don’t know how many dollars they spent trying to draft where the water was seeping out.”

“How do they plug a leak?”

“They use grout of some sort.”

“How do they find the leaks?”

“A water survey.”

“Are there big caves around here?”

“No. It’s not that kind of cavernous material. I wish I knew more about it, but I know every one of the reservoirs in this watershed district leaks. It’s hard to keep control, and they end up spending a lot of money. What happened here is that the people who had set up this conservancy district couldn’t handle the cost anymore, so they sold it to the state.”

“What’s the deepest spot in this water?”

“I don’t know. We’re at about 25 feet right now, but I’d guess it isn’t much more than 27 or 28 feet.”

When we got to our fishing spot, I asked, “Do we drop anchor, or do we drift?”

“I’ve got half a notion to drift,” Dan said as he dropped the anchor, not knowing it wasn’t going to hold anyway and we were going to start drifting after awhile.

Picking up his line, he said, “I’m going to put a little bit of a slip-shot sinker on.”

“You said we weren’t supposed to.”

Ignoring my remark, he instructed, “Put the hook through the night crawler's collar, just one loop. If you have a hit, let him run a long time.”

We fished for a good hour with the waves lapping against the boat, making gentle splashing sounds, making me very sleepy. I asked Dan if snoring bothered him.

“Snoring? No, not particularly.”

“I’m gonna take a nap,” I said as I lay down, continuing with a thought that almost didn’t get finished: “That guy from Missouri was sure a jerk, wasn’t he? He wasn’t going to let me pass him, no matter what...ZZZzzzz.”

I was just about done with my usual 10-minute nap when I heard Dan say, “I think you’ve got a bite.”

I looked at my fishing pole. The line was just reeling off the spool, so I got up and hauled in the first Redeared Sunfish of the day, hooked while I was asleep.

“Did you have any bites while I was sleeping?” I asked Dan.

“No,” he said, a bit glumly.

Our mission accomplished, all we had to do now was relax and enjoy the rest of the day. The anchor soon broke loose from the lake bottom, and we drifted over something that made the water shallower for a couple of seconds. Figuring it was a good spot to fish, we backtracked in an unsuccessful effort to find it again. Giving up the search, Dan dropped the anchor at a place that seemed “as good as any.”

As we fished and talked, I began to see that Dan couldn’t understand why I—or anyone—would come from Minnesota to fish in Indiana. I told him I think the fishing is good everywhere you go or bad everywhere you go, depending on the weather, the time of day, the time of year, the fisher’s knowledge and a dozen other things.

“I don’t suppose it matters if these worms are alive or not, does it?” I asked.

“Well, it helps if they’re wiggling around,” Dan said, and I could swear his eyes rolled a bit when he answered.

Figuring I ought to ask something a little more interesting, I asked him about the live fish display at the Indiana State Fair. “I hear there’s a big tank or something,” I said.

“The Resources Building has 27 indoor aquariums that range in size from 200 to 300 gallons and one larger tank that’s about 600 gallons,” he said. “We also have fish in five concrete ponds outside the building.”

“Do all the fish make it through the fair?”

“No, some of them die. We have backup fish to replace them. All in all, we’ve got about 50 different species at the fair.”

I began to think about the Redeared Sunfish I had caught. “Redeared Sunfish are sure a beautiful fish,” I said.

“Once you get a hook in one, you find out they’re really powerful, too,” Dan replied.

Looking up at a circling hawk, I said, “I don’t really envy any creature except when I see those birds of prey, when they’re gliding in the wind and looking so beautiful.”

Dan watched the hawk for a while and then said, “It seems to have gotten windy, hasn’t it? I think we’ll have to move somewhere else.”

“I’ll pull up the anchor while you check the map,” I said. “How deep did your Redeared Sunfish expert tell you to fish?”

“Oh, 16 to 18 feet.”

“Where are you from originally, Dan?”

Folding up the map, Dan said, “From Indiana, a bit west of Indianapolis. I went to Indiana University. Studied biology. I think we should go up by the dam. The wind shouldn’t be so strong there.”

The new spot, which had been marked on the map, was a lot less windy. “It’s pretty deep—21 feet,” Dan said.

“Use all the anchor line, right?”

“No, let’s not use it all.”

Dan caught lots of fish in the next couple of hours, mostly small Largemouth Bass. He was using sinkers and keeping his bail closed, and this was after telling me to do just the opposite. I caught some fish, too, but my take was nothing like Dan’s.

We talked for a while about where the fish were and what was working best to catch them, and then I asked, “So how did you get into this line of work?”

“I had no idea there were jobs like this until I took a course in limnology—the study of water. I also took a course in public environmental affairs. In the process of doing research, I found out about fish and wildlife and fisheries biologists. And I read in “Field and Stream” about the stream channelization in Indiana.

“After I graduated from college in 1971, I worked housing construction for awhile. The contractor I worked for had an in with a state natural resources official, who introduced me to the chief of fisheries, Frank Luck.”

“The construction guy you worked for, did he know you wanted to change jobs?”

“Oh, sure. Some other guy bought him out, and I didn’t see the new guy as someone I wanted to work for.”

Reeling in my line, I discovered half my worm was gone. “Geez, I had a bite and didn’t even know it,” I said

“The fish are down there but hard to hook,” Dan said sympathetically before returning to his story: “Anyway, I kept working construction and there were no jobs in fisheries at that time—1972—so I kept working housing and calling Frank up about every month to see if there was anything going on. Then housing construction dried up...ohhh, you’ve got a bite there, Larry.”

“Yep. I’m working him.”

“So I took a foundry job at Chrysler. When I called Frank in April of 1973, he said there was an opening for an assistant biologist for the summer. I got the job, which ended up being a permanent full-time position. I like the job, but its rewards are not primarily monetary. Other states pay more than Indiana for the same job. Michigan pays double what Indiana pays.”

Dan may have felt a little uneasy with me at the beginning of the day, but not anymore. “You had a little trouble getting that bass,” he observed dryly.

“Yeah, I know. You’re catching more fish than I am. What are you doing that’s different, besides using a sinker?”

“Well, actually...”

“You must be taking catnaps—sleeping. That’s what I was doing when I caught my first one. What kind of a reel is that you’re using?”

“A little Zebco. Pretty nice. I use it a couple times a year.”

“Look at this—all of a sudden I’m getting a lot of action. Hey!”

“Your worm is gone again Larry?”

“Yeah, along with my fish. He was almost to the top and I lost him. I could tell he was a keeper.”

“I’ve got about a half dozen Redeared Sunfish here if you want to get a picture of more than one of them,” Dan offered.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I’m still hoping to get some more of my own.

We ate some strawberry jam sandwiches. “My wife picked these strawberries, Dan said. “She got to the patch late in the season, but she got enough for some jam.”

“What does your wife do?”

“She’s a nurse, an RN. She works at a children’s hospital about 30 miles away. She’s in the hematology section, working with kids who have cancer. Every time we go on vacation, she hates to go back and see who’s died. She works three days a week, getting up at 4:40 a.m. and getting home about 6 p.m.”

“Are all the ponds at the hatchery used?”

“Yes, but not all the time.”

“How do you get the fish out, seine them?”

“No. We have concrete in the basin and drain the water slowly. The fish go with the water, sometimes flopping around on the dry area, but they eventually follow the water. It’s an instinct for survival.”

“Damn! That guy ran and ran and ran, and I still lost him. He didn’t even get any of the worm. Is this the first time you’ve been fishing in Indiana this year?”

“Yeah. I bought the boat last year.”

“The little jerk, I think he got the worm. I don’t know what to do with him, I can’t catch him. It’s stopped now, but it was obviously a fish doing that. Oh, now I see why he quit. It’s a success story for him—he did get the worm.”

I asked Dan how you could tell a male from a female fish. He said, “With a Redeared Sunfish, you usually can tell by the coloration, but not this time of year. The males are bigger, too.” Then Dan’s attention got turned to reeling in still another fish, and I never did learn how to sex the rest of the fish world. Furthermore, I realized that even though I had caught the first fish, I had been out fished in the long run.

We talked about the kinds of fishing we liked the most. “Without a doubt, my favorite is for Smallmouth Bass,” I told Dan. “You can’t be sure exactly what they’re going to do. They’ll dive and then they’ll shoot up.”

“Mine, too,” Dan said, a sly smile creeping across his mug. “They walk on the water.”

We talked about the Zebra Mussel and other problems in the environment. Dan told me about a problem that was news to me. “The DNR just closed the mussel season in Indiana,” he said. “The Japanese were buying these clams in great numbers—for the shell, not the meat. They put some of the shell in an oyster to start a cultured pearl. It’s a big business that’s gotten so big it’s really threatened the clam. You can make a couple hundred bucks a day gathering these clams, even more if you use illegal methods.”

“What about scouring the river bottom for empty shells?

“Those aren’t any good because they get stained. Only certain kinds are any good. Right now, the pocketbook mussel is really popular. It can be 50 or 60 years old and weigh five pounds.”

We’d been in our fishing spot a long time, and it hadn’t been all that rewarding for me. I asked Dan, “Think maybe we’re ready for a location change?”

“Well, I was thinking...”

“You want to go home, right?”

“Yeah.”

“O.K., I’m ready to go, too. Take these night crawlers and give your hatchery fish a treat. Does your office Gar eat night crawlers?”

“No, I don’t think he would. He eats small minnows.”

Back at the boat ramp, we made some more small talk as we put the boat on the trailer and tied it down. Dan told me three times, “It’s been a great day, Larry.”

I agreed with him each time, because it really had been a great day.