Permit in Peril in Spawning Grounds
Article by Jerry Weinstock
Featured on the front page of Solares Hill, a section of The Key West Citizen
January 3, 2010
The small, English-speaking country of Belize, on the Caribbean Sea in Central America, announced on Sept. 26, 2009, full protection of bonefish, permit and tarpon as catch and release species. This legislation is a beacon, a shining example enacted by a poor country recognizing the value of preserving these fish alive.
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, on the other hand, has a dismal record of allowing many fish species in Florida to arrive at the brink of decimation before enacting draconian measures of extreme severity.
Witness the grouper ban going into effect soon because of improper foresight and judgment. Gentler and better management could have prevailed if objectivity hadn’t succumbed to the apparent influence of commercial interests.
Snook were under every bridge when I arrived in the Keys more than five decades ago, a fabled sport fish with a passionate following. Driven near collapse, it was saved only when its capture became commercially unfeasible. Netting took place across entire channels on the west coast of Florida, preventing spawning and replenishment.
The kingfish is another prime example of ineptitude, when entire schools were netted in a bloody slaughter with boats so overloaded the dead fish slid off them. In dazed disbelief I’d witness loads of floating, bloated, dead fish. We’d had wonderful fishing for kingfish with hundreds of anglers from all parts of the world fishing off Eastern Dry Rocks on the Atlantic side and to the east of Smith Shoals on the Gulf side.
Economic gain to all aspects of the Key West economy was obvious. Commercial fishing was by hook and line, with better quality fish resulting and the bigger, genetically capable fish escaping to foster and reproduce. This pattern would have never seriously depleted the stocks of these silver, sporty mackerel.
But our conservation authorities went into a state of brain malfunction and wildcat netting spelled death to fabulous sportfishing. Now the limit is two king mackerel per person; most average fishermen are borderline ecstatic with one fish. What a mess the regulatory authorities made, once again.
Goliath grouper were speared into near-extinction and now are totally banned. Intelligent regulations could have prevented that, but the FWC was intent on repeating old patterns.
Now it’s permit, whose population, according to the FWC, is of sufficient bio-mass that it does not warrant protection.
Stalking and pursuing permit in shallow water requires utmost skill. The capture of this remarkable fish can be a great achievement on light tackle in particular, by fly-rod a stellar feat. I have fished for them since 1956 but only successfully landed one in the 1960s with the help of a guide out of Sugarloaf Marina named Harold Steen.
My obsession for this fabled fish ran rampant for years and still is vibrant and alive. The memories are treasures, life-enhancing experiences one can draw on to mitigate and help relieve some of the inevitable stressors of life, especially with the added pressures of the country and the world under challenges of enormous magnitude. Sportsman in the quest for this fish may come away with an appreciation of the permit’s biosphere and of the elemental beauty of the environment as a whole, the pursuit a transforming experience that can shape and mold an angler into an eco-sportsman.
My first few permit were off Loggerhead Key on the Atlantic side, but Key West lies in the midst of the most prolific flats in this country to the north and west with the Marquesas being the sacred epicenter. It is of no inconsiderable importance that most of the small fish captured there, misnamed pompano by commercial interests, are obviously small permit representing compromised generations of murdered fish. I have personally examined these little fish in the sandy beach surf and all were baby permit, having the positive ID of 17 to 21 soft rays in the dorsal fin. (Pompano have up to 27 soft rays.)
The tiny surf on the Atlantic side of Bahia Honda state park is also full of baby permit chasing up each wave. We captured several and raised them until they rapidly got too big and we released them. (In north Florida, however, the surf off St. Augustine Beach was full of the tiny pompano.) The shallows off Smathers Beach and around the White Street Pier host baby permit, as does the beach off 1800 Atlantic. I have examined them closely in my cast net; some off the White Street Pier are the size of the palm of my hand. We are in the midst of permit heaven.
But the bad news is that a survey of the older, more experienced flats guides suggests a 60 to 70 percent reduction in the permit population – down to one third the population 30 years ago. I personally have seen even fewer fish since 1967.
It would appear quintessentially obvious, in the Keys and particularly in Key West, that a live permit’s economic value as a superb sport fish outweighs its commercial value. Viewed from innumerable perspectives, it is a noble fish and the pursuit of it a sublime exercise of consummate skill. There is a transfixing quality to this fish, a passion, a dimension that encompasses its mesmerizing habitat.
Economically, there is a direct local impact on guide services, lodging, restaurants, tackle, clothing and ultimately real estate. Permit engender tournaments, but they are becoming progressively less productive with fewer and fewer fish.
Sophisticated spear-gun technology, with some guns costing in the thousands of dollars, makes it easy to pop off unwary permit in deep water, their social and generally unrecognized spawning grounds.
This is not at all thought out. Is it in the best interests of everyone to risk putting the permit on the endangered-species list?
We have entered a different world. We have had more than our share of killing. A depleted ocean calls for conserving. “Saving” is a realistic, sane approach to our contemporary world.
We were once reassured that there was sufficient bio-mass of Pacific salmon fishing off the Pacific coast of the United States. So much for adequate bio-mass.
Let us be remembered not for what we destroyed but for what we have saved. Will our children and grandchildren have that vision that lies deep in the soul of every true fisherman, of a sanctuary, a very private, inner place that can restore and rekindle one’s spirit? Will there be that place in our heart of hearts that yields the strength to face and work through the frustrations and trials of life?
The right fish and fishing place can revive and nurture inner peace and be an alcove into the natural world.