New Jersey Shark Attacks

Dan Radel Asbury Park Press  The news story is about shark attacks on the rise, one of them in New Jersey last year, though not fatal. I wanted to add to the record, though the two incidents happened decades ago in the 1980's. I was attacked by a shark, but of course I never reported it. Nor did an acquaintance of mine, after I witnessed him get attacked. Both incidents were nothing to alarm authorities about.

We were clam treaders. I held a commercial license, my acquaintance recreational. Both incidents happened along a deep channel where large boats travel. I clammed alone minutes from sunset, up to my shoulders in brine where I worked the edge of the drop off lowering down into 15-foot depths. My back was turned towards those depths for a moment, when a tremendous pressure wave knocked me forward. I knew that had to be a brown shark, but a big one. They have teeth but don't use those teeth on people. But they will careen into you with great force. 

That's more like what happened to the other guy. The shark came at him at waist level, and he actually got his forearms underneath it, lifting it out of the water, which I witnessed. Not a very big shark. It appeared to be about four feet long.

Since it happened after the big one had me walking steadily to my boat, I immediately remembered that solitary incident. I had never panicked, but it made me feel uneasy. The size of the shark felt scary. Its pectoral fin must have come very close to clipping me with a lot of force. 

It's funny, but I remember the sun from just after it happened to me. Big and red, but still just a little sky underneath it, summertime. I walked towards the sun as I walked towards my boat. It's as if, on an unconscious level, I took enough of a scare to feel especially drawn to the life force. 

Sunlit Temps Over 40 Stimulate Winter Trout

Any of us sometimes depart for an outing not expecting much more than the quality of the day. It will almost be enough. Last I got out before today, the temperature was 38 degrees and rain fell hard, mixed with some snow. I fished as hard, wading on downstream, knowing that if I happened to put my jig in front of a trout, I might get hit. So I worked at that, and yes, eventually I did get hit. Hard. But I missed it. That happened in a stretch where I caught a 15-inch wild brown in November 2022, so it might have been another one or even the same fish I released. 

Today the air was almost dead calm. The sky cloudless, The temperature about 43. Last night was cold enough that I noticed thick skim ice on one of the ponds in my neighborhood. I wanted to hit the river while the sun was high and the temperature nearly peaking out. I'm not especially experienced at catching the winter stockers, but I hear that they hit especially before the sun begins to get low, when its rays warm the water a little. Temperatures above 40 accompanying that light on the water and on the rocks underneath are especially desirable. Trout get caught on frigid days, but supposedly they prefer such days as today.

Even so, I wasn't especially ready for the fish, even though I caught them at the spot I visited today in January and February of last year. My first cast resulted in a fish on for a few seconds. Shortly thereafter, I hooked up and played a nice rainbow almost to the net before it got off. That's when I felt I'd had all the action I'd get, but I not only netted three rainbows within a half hour, I missed a hit after I caught those fish. Among the three I caught, two were a little over 16 inches, the other 15 inches.

All the fish I caught and lost felt especially eager to strike, as if the sunlight and the relatively mild temperatures had stimulated them. It's possible the two I lost were the first trout I caught. The one I nearly netted looked like the first one I did get in the net. If so, that was an eager trout for being so plump. (The other two I caught were skinny.) The hit I missed shortly before I decided to leave gave me the clue to not all the trout being very willing, however. It was a subtle, noncommittal, pull. Repeatedly, I cast back to the spot, but nothing more happened. 

Cold Rain