– Aubrey Gallegos (education intern)
Last week we had an “-estest Day”, a day of Biggest, of Greatest, and Weirdest.
It started Thursday morning when Maija and I went seining in Beacon. There’s nothing better than waking up in the morning, pulling on waders that are big enough to fit three of me, and clomping down to the beach to discover the incredible fauna living just beneath the murky surface of the Hudson. Wading our way through the rippled water and tangled water chestnuts, we caught a few brilliant sun fish and a handful of smaller fish on our first seine. Our second seine didn’t bring much and the third seemed to hold little promise. As we carefully pulled the net up the rocky beach, surrounded by the silence of the morning, were suddenly wrenched from our seining reverie by a loud splashing and thrashing from our net. Our eyes widened (or at least I know mine did) as we caught sight of just how big our fish was. It was a carp, at least 15 inches long (so claims Maija, though I’m sure it must have been closer to four or five feet…at least), deep golden in color with huge, fan shaped scales that glistened in the morning sunlight. Maija said it’s the biggest fish she’s ever caught while seining. We admired it for a moment, then let him swim back–a bit too big for our aquarium!
I then had one of the greatest peak halyard teams I’ve had this season. We had a group of fourth graders on board and as soon as they gathered in close and heard that we were the peak team, their eyes brightened with competition. They shouted back commands like “On the peak, drop the line!” with a perfect and resounding “Drop the line!” followed by a thunder clap. They responded with a piraty “Aaarrr!” when the mate came by with a “Ready on the peak?,” eyeing the throat team across from us competitively, and their faces turned serious and focused as we hauled up our heavy sail. Every command I shouted was shouted right back at me, and they hauled hand over hand with such enthusiasm and earnestness, I couldn’t help but be impressed.
This week was also the exciting debut of our new otter trawl net. Smaller and sleeker than our old one, it was put to the test on its first trawl. As we hauled the net back in, we quickly noticed that it was much heavier than it usually is. We pulled it up with all our might, recruiting every adult on board to pull with a mighty “Two, six, heave!” and still could barely budge it. We slowly inched the net out of the water with mighty heaves, and leaned over to see what was weighing it down. I was half expecting to see some sort of leviathan, like a giant sturgeon or the undiscovered Hudson River whale, but what we found when we pulled up the bloated cod end of our net was a giant blue barrel, the size of an oil drum and stuffed with heavy silt and mud. It took the anchor burton and all our might and brainstorming to get it on board. Definitely one of the weirdest things we’ve caught in our trawl net!
We also finally caught an eel last week! Apparently eels enjoy scrambled eggs and barbeque chicken, though I’m not sure exactly what lured this one to our eel pot this time. I’ve heard many times that eels are escape artists, but I this was one provided me with first hand experience when I was standing next to the eel tank, leaning against the deck box chatting with someone and suddenly felt a gentle but slimy nudge on my elbow. I looked down to find our eel calmly wriggling its way across our deck box on its way back to the river. Eels can absorb oxygen through their skin to breath, which helps them to survive out of water, an adaptation that allows them to travel short distances over land. I kept a sharper eye on the eel after that. I also found out this week that female eels can grow to be 5 feet long! I don’t know what kind of word ending in -est our eel deserves. Maybe eels are just the est in and of themselves. No further adjective required. Another eventful week on the Clearwater, full of learnings, surprises, and the -est of the –est.
