by DAVE GRANT
"What we know is a drop. What we don't know is an ocean." - Isaac Newton
Last summer
I was down at the Atlantic Highlands docks discussing fishing
regulations and the state of the industry with one of the mates
from the fishing fleet. Actually, I was minding my own business
doing some water testing while listening to his latest unsolicited
tirade about how the industry was being destroyed by: (1) "The
state people" (It's always "the state"),
and other "politicians, clerks-and-jerks" who want
to "cram a bunch of worthless fluke-fishing regulations
down the throats of fishermen" and (2) "Other
fishermen" (It's always "other fishermen") who
just don't understand the business.
This sort of discussion, interspersed with the latest round of off-color jokes and fishing stories is pretty typical herding behavior between anyone carrying a fishing pole down at the docks. I always listen politely and occasionally throw in my two cents -- Plus a joke that is unlikely to offend anyone within earshot, of course. (Never pass up the opportunity to take a pot-shot at a politician or a Parisian.)
During his commentary he mentioned something that piqued my curiosity, and anything involving fluke, those harbingers of summer that we all anticipate so eagerly, interests me. After expressing the usual relief about successfully "getting through the worm season" - spiritless spring fishing for winter flounder with those "damned sand and blood worms"(Read: expensive, delicate and a pain to handle), he casually mentioned that while fluke fishing off the Cedars (Off the ocean beach at Sandy Hook), he noticed that the fish were spitting up baby lobsters. This is interesting since the adolescent years of a number of creatures like lobsters are still a bit of a mystery, and this area is open, featureless sandy bottom. Not where you'd expect to find a lobster at such a vulnerable time in its life cycle. Also, one of the concerns raised about the massive beach restoration projects along the New Jersey coast is the potential interference that sand pumping might present to the recruitment of bottom organisms. It was worthwhile looking into this for a number of reasons.
I have found a wide assortment of things in a fluke's stomach, including other flounders, but never lobsters. Still, it had a hint of truth to it and of course, these guys are never in doubt about what they see, so I expressed interest in checking it out and suggested he preserve a batch in a bottle of rubbing alcohol when he cleaned his next fluke.
This led to another tirade about the dockside filleting rules that the state has imposed to monitor the size of the catch of certain species, and "the mess and extra time delays it creates for his customers" (Read: Cuts into the mate's tips.). More about this at another time. What I was most interested in was the lobster tale and after receiving verification of the story from the skipper (He nodded once.) I accepted an invitation to join them on the next fishing trip.
Arriving a week later for my fishing excursion, I concealed my disappointment when I was proudly presented with a jar of peroxide ("It's all we had in the first-aid kit") containing the remains of several "baby lobsters." I didn't want to dampen the enthusiasm of the captain or mate (Read: I didn't want to blow my chances at a free fishing trip.) so, authoritatively, I scrutinized the jar and announced "I can't wait to get THIS back to the lab for a closer look." (Read: Criminy, it's just some hermit crabs out of their seashells.").
It's an honest mistake. If you have never seen a baby lobster, and most of us never will, a partially digested hermit crab (In this case Pagurus longicarpus, our most common inshore species) looks the way you might picture one. When juvenile lobsters have developed a tail and start to disperse, they swim forward with outstretched claws. Lobster researchers call it "the Superman Stage." The first time I saw a small one swimming in a Maine tidepool I could immediately understand why.
Having seen that and plenty of hermit crabs out of their shells over the years, I could also see the similarities between these two crustaceans and understand the confusion. So it's no fluke that experienced fishermen confuse them, and after a careful investigation back at the lab (Read: I waited a week before I got back to them with the news.) I gently reported my findings.
Although they appeared a bit skeptical, everyone seemed satisfied, except me. The problem I now face is, how does the fluke feed on the hermit crab? I've encountered fluke and windowpane flounders (Scopthalmus) many times while snorkeling off the beach. They dig in and align themselves lengthwise on top of the sand ridges formed by the waves and the only thing they move is their eyes.
As bottom water flows back-and-forth with the surge, they wait in the sand to ambush prey (including, apparently, hermit crabs) as they sweep across the ridge.
Do they gulp the crabs down, shell and all? If so, how do they get rid of the shell? Is it crushed and spit out? (Unlikely since they don't have crushing teeth like a blackfish, for example.) Do they selectively prey on crabs that have shed recently or catch them while they are switching shells? This raises all sorts of questions about their feeding behavior.
The mystery about "baby lobsters" is solved, but now I wonder about the hermit crab puzzle. There were no shells inside the fluke that we caught on our fishing trip (Read: All I got were sea robins, but I looked through other people's catches.) so now I'm left with a new riddle.
There's just too much to learn out there in the sea, and too little time to do it, but this summer when I'm snorkeling in the surf, I'll be observing the next fluke I see...very carefully.