Stumbling and bumbling for darters
by Robert Rice
(Continued)

           (rainbow darter)
It was a crisp 42 degree January day today and I did something I have not done in over 2 years. I went collecting. While I drove out past Carl Junction to one of my old dependable spots I realized that I had let my frustration with the NFC, the general high level of complaining and the occasional abuse I get from the anti CarpBusters crowd stop me from doing something I loved. It’s kind of funny how it happened, an activity that started out as a solo solace, then turned into a passion, then turned into a movement with great intentions and then lead to an organization with group outings, then it turned into talking about fishing/collecting way more than fishing and collecting and finally it became fussing and general disdain from within over things that don’t matter much. For those keeping score I now have the recipe to turn a great passion into a great burden, just let me know if you want it J . Today I was alone in the cold, looking forward to getting wet as it all was twenty or so years ago. Life truly is a big circle.

We have had a horrible ice storm here in Missouri about 4 weeks ago and mountains of timber are lined up on the street sides and as I pulled up to what once was 40 foot gentle incline to a small spring I realized the depth of the damage in the woods. At least 40% of the trees had dropped and branches and limbs made travel about impossible in this small stretch of woods. I quickly had second thoughts when I saw the destruction and the amount of work it would take to collect in an Ozark kettle spring buried under timber. I questioned for a second as to whether I was up to the task and should just go home, but then my pride over came my doubt and I began picking my way thru the brambles and limbs to the spring. I passed a patch of brambles that I used to cut and realized they had grown in my absence and I had not brought my clippers as the thorns dug into my bare legs (yes I collect in shorts and shoes in January) after a few stumbles and bumbles and climbs and stretches I made it to the edge of the spring only to find it was full of even more timber.

So my collecting started by sticking my arms into the icy water and pulling limbs out of the creek just so I could navigate a small 20 foot stretch to collect. The pile of limbs soon grew to a small car size before I was sure I could work a small stretch of riffles that I knew very well from my many visits to this spot in years past. Winter collecting in the Midwest is always a dicey proposition as most of the fishes I seek are well hidden, dormant and usually not fully grown because for all practical purposes darters are annuals in the wild as best as I can tell. This little creek was well past dicey it was clogged with leaf litter that it had been unable to flush due to the tons of limbs in the water. It was becoming a bit stagnant and would only be worse as the summer approached. This condition will affect this and many other small bodies of water for several years I am sure. The volume of organics will change the climate making it more suitable for some species and less for others.

I knew today would not be the best of winter collecting conditions, but hey what did I expect after the largest ice storm in 30 years. I spent 30 minutes clearing a spot and then began kicknetting for darters. Kicknetting is a technique I learned from Konrad Schmidt a great many years ago when we made a trip to Arkansas to meet with George Becker author of “Fishes of Wisconsin”. George was either in his 70’s or close to it and he told us this would be his last collecting trip as he was just to old to get in the water. As it turned out it was his last trip and I still have those memories and a technique for collecting learned that I keep from that trip. Kicknetting is basically setting your net in a riffle, flat against the bottom and kicking over stones and debris with your lead foot. The creatures hiding under those spots rush downstream into your waiting net. It is IMO the best technique for riffles and shallow places with current. Even in these harsh conditions it did not let me down. The fish were scarce but I was not seeking many, I never really do much anymore. I’m like a stamp collector; I seek a few of one type of fish or another and call it a day. In this case I had a 55 gallon which I wanted to place 10 or so orangethroat darters. My previous colony had passed on and I was ready to get back in the darter game.

               (orangethroat darter)
Orangethroat darters (Etheostoma spectabile) are by far my favorite darter. They are incredibly beautiful, very durable, will take frozen food and adapt to domestic life pretty easily. What makes me love them is their temperament; they are simply not shy in the least. In a community tank it is not uncommon to see them darting around displaying and arguing over territory. I have for several years fed my fish live blackworms and mosquito larvae mixed in with frozen treats like crayfish, daphnia and what not. They seemed to do fine and have on occasion bred successfully in spite of my many limitations as an aquarist. I suspect they are one of those fishes that given X temperature, Y water quality and Z % body fat will breed. So to me a feisty tank of orangethroats is the holy grail of darters and this location used to have them by the hundreds. I suspected and hoped my timber moving would not be in vain.

After 30 minutes of ankle to knee deep kicknetting I had nine feisty little stained glass denizens of the riffles in my bucket as I was getting a bit cold I decided that was enough. So I navigated my self and gear somewhat carefully thru the mud, timber and creek bank incline back to my truck. I drove home with my soggy hiking boots on and shivered and thought to myself, “Man I do this for fun I must be nuts”. As is usually the case the darters had no problems in the bucket they just kind of hung out unlike other fish I have collected that get so spazzed out they stress to the point of death. I can remember many times finding a cool shiner, collecting him and a dozen of his friends only to watch them freak out in a white bucket and some literally pass out and die. When I switched to black buckets that cut down on the losses but they still were very difficult to handle, not so with these orangethroats, these little guys were happy as a clam as I acclimated them to their new home. In no time they were feeding on the live blackworms and setting up territories and I sat with my cold wet feet for a few moments and smiled. It was like welcoming an old friend back home.

Until next time good luck and good fishing.