Over decades of fishing I have always practised and encouraged catch and release with the best intentions to release fish as safely and humanely as possible. I fish with barbless hooks, strong nylon, and play fish quickly and without lingering distress so that they can be released with as little stress as possible. I don’t kill fish because I have no desire to prove to others that I could if I wanted, or worse, to prove the catch by showing the dead fish to others. I have always believed in Lee Wulffs view, that fish are too beautiful, special and rare to be only caught once.
My views are my own and I respect others who may have a different perspective, but when I see photos of kneeling fisherman proudly gesturing to a width of dead fish, it makes me appreciate that now the vast majority of fly fishermen catch and release their fish and many fisheries are better for it, and ultimately we conserve and sustain fish stocks.
The vast majority of my fishing is for Salmon and Trout and I release every fish I catch, save for the occasional fish, who may have taken the fly too deeply and is unable to be released. Those occasions are mercifully few, and I do hate confronting the reality of a dead fish, when I am very subdued by the outcome and angry at the conclusion.
A recent visit to Zanzibar on holiday with the family caused me to confront a different reality.
I went big game fishing for only the second time in my life. It’s a totally different experience from the elegant challenge of fly fishing. Big game fishing is not subtle. It’s about a great boat captain able to read the water, currents, tides and wind. The angler plays a limited role until the moment when the rod buckles, and the reel arcs into life, and all hell is let loose in the boat. It’s an imprecise sport, guided by chance and fortune but the rewards can be outstanding. This day, I was fortunate and we landed 4 good fish, but in the catching of these fish, it was very clear that these fish were not going to be released. These were fish for the table, more precisely, fish that would feed the multiple families and community that support the boats. The Dorado, Tuna, Wahoo were all caught, immediately killed, gutted, iced and portions then divided up and given to a waiting group by the waters edge.
I had no choice in the matter, and without knowing the pyramid of onward distribution and feeding, had suggested to the local Captain that with the first fish killed, we could now release the other fish? I was met with a chuckle, a smile, and the knowing realisation that whilst I thought there was choice, the reality of feeding as many as 50 people, was no choice at all.