By Dean Hansen
A snowflake. In August. With three tails.
I stared in amazement at the contents of the collecting net I had been sweeping over the Apple River in Wisconsin one August evening. There was the usual load of midges, a few caddisflies; and the tiniest, most delicate, whitest, indeed the most Lilliputian mayfly I had ever
seen in my life.
All mayflies, even the inch-and-quarter-long Hexagenia, are delicate. This speck of dander, however, measuring just 3/32nds of an inch end to end, gave new meaning to the words "delicate" and "minute." The pleasures of tying and fishing an imitation of this mayfly would approach those of the medieval practice of self-flagellation; and fly fishing and fly tying are supposed to be fun, right? I quickly snapped a couple photographs of this tiny member of the mayfly genus Caenis, and I began to long for something big to write about.
Yah, something big. Something you can drop in the streamside weeds and find again--in the dark. A fly pattern you can pin on your vest and another angler can identify from 50 feet away. Something you can measure in inches--not millimeters. Something really big, like a #4 or even a #2 hook size. Something like baitfish.
Baitfish. Anyone who has used a kick net to collect insects in a stream also has inadvertently captured examples of the smaller fish that share the stream with the much larger trout. Sticklebacks, shiners, perch, chubs, mud minnows--the variety and number of small--fish in the one-to-two-to-three-inch range in streams is impressive. And they're all fair game for hungry trout. In fact, studies of the gut contents of larger (over 10 inches) trout again and again show that a baitfish's life in a stream can be pretty dangerous and can end in a gulp.
I participated in an electroshocking survey on three different streams two years ago. Seeing the numbers and variety of small fish in a stream was educational. Watching that electrified wand pull trout after trout from their hiding places was exciting enough. But to be
along with a real expert on both trout and baitfish, Conrad Schmidt, was both a pleasure and privilege.
The first stream we sampled, while it did hold large trout, didn't support trout reproduction. It had warm-water input from a couple of lakes, a low gradient and a sandy or muddy bottom. In its warmer stretch, there were 13 species of baitfish. There were only two to four examples
each of sculpins, common shiners, mud minnows, fathead minnows, black nose dace, black bullheads and tadpole madtoms (there's a name!) collected. The two most common species were creek chubs (44) and hornyhead chubs (30), with lampreys (21), Johnny darters (17), red belly dace (12) and yellow perch (10) bringing the total of baitfish collected to 156, or 925 per mile of stream. There were no small (under 4 inches) trout present.
Collecting in the same stream, but downstream from its confluence with a much cooler trout stream, the increase in water quality was reflected in the composition of baitfish. Here creek chubs, sculpins and Johnny darters predominated, with hornyhead chubs, fathead minnows, red belly dace and lampreys present in smaller numbers. There were also a few trout under 4 inches. Gone were the "marginal" indicators such as mud minnows, black bullheads and tadpole madtoms.
In contrast to most other ecosystems, a high diversity of baitfish in a trout stream doesn't indicate water quality. Instead, the drop in the number of species of baitfish was a plus as far as a trout fishery was concerned.