Cherchez les poisson

Cherchez les poisson!

(I got to figure out how to say “fish on,” like, in Latin or something.)
It’s time for a nature lesson: (not interested? Don’t click.)

[style=flatpicleft]image[/style]The world, in my not-so-humble-opinion, wold be a better place if we emulated our fish friends. I was noticing some small fry in the water, guessing that the spawn had moved up here, or something, so I guess that makes these fish Taurus.

“Who’d a thunk it?”

For all their fight, I’ve pegged most bass as Aries. And, for that matter, several weeks ago, I could see the dudes guarding a nest in East Austin. But here at Shady Acres?

Right in front of the boat dock. Two boys. Dudes. Punk-ass fish. Actually, they were doing their genetic duty, much to their chagrin and my amusement.

So, I was fishing for panfish, not doing very good, not even any interest when I noticed, in the lake’s clear water, two of my boys, guarding a nest.

Bass Biology, introduction:
Unlike any other place in Nature, as far as I can recall, the black bass male plays an integral role in the upbringing of babies.

The males clear a nest, mate and fertilize the eggs, and then guard the nest. No post-coital nap for the guys, none at all. Plus, the hatchlings are protected by the males for up to two days after birth. During this time, the guys don’t eat.

But they will fiercely guard the nest. I learned a trick from another fisherman of some renown, pink worms. I’m guessing that the boy bass don’t like the pink worms, offends their manhood or something. Or maybe it just pisses them off.

Whatever.

Think what a nicer place the world would be if the males did all the hard work from fertilization to protection to even raising them young uns?

There are two guarding this nest, right in front of the dock. I got the little one, but the bigger one will probably take all weekend. He’s a wily old coot, and I think, from the way he eyeballs me, we’ve tangled before.

Copyright 2005 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without prior written consent from the author.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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