Convergence '20: American Shad

Each year I make one trip up to Massachusetts to fish for American shad. It's a something of a rebellion trip, because a lot of people get cray for shad in CT and start fishing early in the run. Spots are often pretty near shoulder to shoulder and there are a fair number of boats on the river. I've fished for shad in CT once and my urge to do so again is fairly limited. I go to a tributary in Massachusetts once the season is well underway, catch a bunch, and quench my thirst. My friend Ben started me on this tradition a number of years ago. I caught my first shad with him towards the end of the run. Since then, I just keep going to the same spots on the same river and fishing the same flies. This year I thought it might not happen, but after a full night of striper fishing I found myself holding my short spey rod in the turbulent dark waters of my favorite shad river, swinging my simple red fly, one of five that I'd hurriedly whipped up in the time between getting home from the river and, well, leaving for the river again. Before the sun, which wouldn't have been visible anyway as it was completely cloudy, made its way over the horizon, my rod bent double and the first shad of the day was hooked.

These silvery clupeid fish are intrinsically linked with New England spring. They have run the rivers to spawn in large numbers for many year, becoming vitally important to indigenous peoples, then Europeans when they crossed the Atlantic. John McPhee's book The Founding Fish covers the historical importance of this species and should be required reading for pretty much anyone reading this right right now. 

Despite their integral part in American history, and actually partly because of it, American shad were in decline by the early 1900's. Dams, pollution, and overfishing have been responsible for declines in returning shad throughout the Eastern U.S. Strong efforts by many state and federal programs, however, have resulted in a strong resurgence and the CT River and others routinely beats previous records for shad numbers. In an age when good conservation news is uncommon, the story of shad is a shining star and a sign of what can be achieved when we actually try. As I slid another shimmering fish into the shallows, I imagined looking upstream and seeing Native Americans removing shad from a net and tossing them in a pile on the bank. The illusion dissolved rapidly, consumed by the urban jungle as horns blared across the street. It was morning rush hour now. The large brick building behind me suggested nothing of the wild lands that once sprawled in every direction. But the shad at my feet was still here, a relic of the old America, headed upstream to spawn. 

I plucked my fly out of that trademark paper thin mouth, then watched America's founding fish rooster-tail back into the flow of this gritty, urban river. A vision of perfection in a world of confused destruction, this fish was completely unaware of the part it was playing. These fish are the heroes of this story... along with the many people that have toiled day in and day out over the years to keep them running. May they run all my days, and may they continue running well after I'm gone from this world.

Until next time,

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

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