Season for juvenile fish

On long wet summer days, the old folks wait for powerful thunder to drive juvenile fish in the open sea into the channels here. I heard several of them over the last three weeks. As more natural pyrotechnic explode across the fearful dark skies of paradise, there’s an equal number of throw-net fishermen readying their nets along the beach.

There are the young and old treading the shores both on the windward and leeward side of the island. Panoramic beach road offers a glimpse (for photographers) to capture–with still cameras–what our old folks used to do in the olden days to supplement the family meal–fishermen casting their nets into the water.

But on this day, photo-taking was anything but prohibitive. The colorful sunset takes a siesta behind thick cumulus gray clouds. It’s that time of year when grayish clouds hover over the horizon like jammed curtain on stage stuck or basically stationary. Then there’s the occasional steady drizzle. However, it never dampened the spirits of fishermen pacing the beach. They were peeking into shallow waters hoping to land a bucketful of juvenile catch.

I really wanted to learn this form of traditional fishing. It’s good for someone like me, a non-swimmer, who goes fishing in ice coolers. It’s shark free and never had to worry about drowning. I can’t stand the thought of a shark lurking down below quizzing if I’m that perfect prey. No sir! Not now, anyway. I know I will meet my Creator one fine day, but I’m not about to fast forward it ahead of schedule.

An old classmate (former Justice Ramon Villagomez) and I once talked about instructions on throw-net fishing on the reef and shore. He’s an expert on the trade. But we never got around to doing it like good old buddies in high school. We were ready to go throw-net fishing while debating substantive issues, an old pastime. The opportunity has fizzled out much to my dismay.

South of PIC, I met a rookie throw-net fisherman. I mean, the guy was hurling his net (that fails to open-up) at anything that moves, including tiny waves that gently crash against the shore. I noticed his bucket–five gallon paint container–was empty. Well, he was having fun while juvenile fish make a run for dear life. I’m sure it must be one disappointing fishing trip.

Veteran throw-net fishermen carry their woven coconut-frond baskets around their waistlines. The younger ones boast disposable plastic bags in their back pockets. The veteran has a seasoned eye and seldomly bluffs hurling his net into the water. Rookies have all the perfect form of inexperience and usually land more than their share of trash in shallow waters. They’d pull it out quickly so no one would see that they caught, well, tons of trash!

In the olden days, throw-net fishing was basically free. Today, one must pay a menial fee. I recall a Fish and Wildlife officer who asked an elderly if he has paid for his throw-net fee. Said the old veteran: “When your father and I used to fish, we never had to pay any fees because this is traditional fishing. Anyway, take whatever belongs to the government and leave the rest for my family”. That message must have been the most deafening thunder than ones the officer must have heard all day up ahead and across the Philippine Seas.