River Hunting

» Trying to hook a brook trout is a thrill for
fishermen looking for a challenge.

BY JEREMIAH KNUPP

Anyone who thinks that fishing is not a spectator sport has never been hypnotized by the casts of an experienced practitioner of the fly rod. I realize this as I sit crouched on the edge of the the Dry River observing professional fly fishing guide Brian Trow. The falling sun illuminates the off-green line as it makes its lazy arch behind Trow’s back, before a snap of the wrist pulls the line in the opposite direction, dropping the fly precisely and as effortlessly as a lifelong tobacco chewer can hit a spittoon across the room. The rushing of the river provides an ambient symphony with Trow’s fly rod the conductor’s baton.

The target of his cast is a fish as fascinating, as special and as beautiful as the technique that Trow uses to catch it: the native brook trout, a fish whose story is as old as the Valley itself. Not a true trout, but actually a member of the char family, brook trout were brought south by the ice age and were trapped in the streams and rivers of the Valley when the glaciers receded. Virginia’s only native species of trout (browns and rainbows were introduced), they were once present in all of the waters that flow through the Valley. The arrival of the Europeans and their clearing of the land pushed the trout back into protected mountain streams. Now, only 2 percent of the state’s waterways are adequate for the fish’s survival.

“Virginia is one of the last havens for brook trout,” Trow says. “Virginia has more miles of brook trout water than any other state, besides New York. In the Valley we’re flanked by trout water. If you drive east or if you drive west you’re going to run into trout streams.”

Trow, who co-owns the Harrisonburg business Mossy Creek Fly Fishing with his twin brother Colby, has made fishing his career for nearly a decade. When he’s not manning the shop, he takes clients from around the country on guided trips on Valley waters for everything from bass to carp.

On the River The first spot that Trow selects for our brook trout outing is hot. He’s rewarded with a catch nearly every time his fly hits the water.

“I didn’t scout this place beforeshand, honest,” he says, despite the fact that he’s catching fish like he’s in front of an Outdoor Channel camera.

Though he’s fished salt water and fresh water around the world, Trow admits that going after “brookies” in Valley streams is his favorite type of fishing.

“Brook trout fishing is ‘sight’ fishing,” Trow says. “It’s a lot more like hunting than it is like fishing. You’re not sitting on a bank watching a bobber. Seeing a fish come out of the water to hit your fly, I don’t care how big it is, if you’re not into that then you’re not a fisherman.”

Though native brook trout average between 6 to 12 inches long, they put up a fight, challenging anglers, especially if they use light tackle. March through June is prime brook trout season, but natives can be pursued year round.

“Even if you go to the same piece of water over and over again, it’s never the same place twice,” Trow adds. “Brook trout fishing takes you to pretty places. It’s always quiet and peaceful and you’re catching what is, in my opinion, the prettiest fish there is.”

Our first brook catches this afternoon are stocked brookies,  identified by their muted colors and fins that have been rubbed off from living in the crowded confines of a hatchery run. These newly stocked fish don’t make the state’s 7-inch creel limit and are returned to the water. But for Trow, all fishing is catch and release; even the biggest trophies are kept just long enough for a quick photo. It’s a growing trend among brook trout fishermen, who know the fish they catch are a finite resource.

Threats What is the biggest threat to native trout? Trow answers my question with a silent nod of his head at the two fishermen who recently arrived at our spot. In the span of a few minutes they’ve shared our luck, but instead of returning the undersized fish to the water, they place them in their cooler.

“People talk about over-fishing the oceans and that’s a hard concept for people to understand,” Trow says, “but when you explain to them that if you catch all the trout in a small pool high in the mountains, those fish are gone forever, it’s a concept that’s easier to grasp.”

Humans also threaten native brook trout indirectly. Acid rain from carbon emissions disrupts the stream’s fragile pH balance. Agriculture run off causes plant and algae growth that robs the water of its oxygen content. Warming temperatures raise summer waters above the 70-degree mark required for trout survival, and droughts dry up the small isolated pools that the brook trout call home.

As we move upstream in search of the native non-stocked brook trout, the fishing isn’t so easy. We continue moving, hoping to find that one perfect spot. Trow adapts his technique. He switches flies. It’s all part of the thrill of fishing for native brook trout.

“Exploring is the heart of brook trout fishing,” Trow says. “You’re always wondering what’s around that next bend. Sometimes you go out planning to fish for an hour, and by the time you hike back out you’ve spent hours. Sometimes you’ll find a spot where the water’s nearly dried up, and you’d swear that all the trout are dead. But you’ll come back later when the water’s up and there’ll be 50 fish in the same pool.”

The ability to survive. The ability to adapt. It’s those unexplainable, genetic skills that have helped brook trout survive in the mountain streams of western Virginia, skills that will continue to make them the ultimate challenge for Valley anglers.

Beyond the Belfry

Bats are common in the Shenandoah region, although you have probably never seen one.

The red bat is one of the most common in the Shenandoah Valley.

BY JEREMIAH KNUPP
PHOTOS BY HOLLY MARCUS

It’s a common animal in Virginia, but most of the state’s homo sapien inhabitants have never seen one. It plays a vital role in the ecosystem, with many benefits to humans, but is misunderstood and even feared, shrouded in a fog of myth, misconception and late-night horror exploitation. The animal we’re talking about is the bat.

There are 13 distinctive species of bats in Virginia, seven of which can be found in the Shenandoah Valley. The most common is the Little Brown bat, a diminutive creature that has a wing span of 10 inches and weighs less than half an ounce and feeds around pasture fields and lakes. Bats make their homes in everything from man-made structures to trees to the caves so common to the mountains of western Virginia.

Popular Programs

Douthat State Park, a nearly 5,000-acre facility near Clifton Forge, has a special relationship with the small winged animals. In 2001, local Boy Scout Christopher Bartley built bat houses for an Eagle Scout project, and the tall narrow “rocket” shaped structures were placed around the park. The bats were quickly incorporated into many of the park’s educational programs. Each summer, there are daily interpretive nature programs, including a “Bat Kapers” event, where children get the facts on the creatures. The program is also provided as an educational outreach that has been popular with local schools.

“The bat program is one of our most requested programs in our educational outreach,” said Beth Hawse, Chief Ranger Interpreter at Douthat.

Bat Myths

Hawse described a few of the bat myths she commonly encounters as she spreads the facts about bats to the public.

• Bats aren’t blind. Despite the pop-culture idiom, all bats have varying degrees of vision in daylight. Some even use their eyes to navigate in flight. Others use echolocation, a form of biological sonar shared with whales and dolphins, where animals generate a sound and then listen for its echo to judge the distance and type of objects ahead.
• Bats aren’t birds. They are mammals, just like you and me, and the only mammals capable of flight (flying squirrels “glide,” if you’re wondering). Their motion in flight is much different than birds; instead of flapping their wings, they grasp and release them like a hand (bat’s scientific name, Chiroptera, comes from the Greek words for “hand wing”). And despite being mammals, bats are not “flying mice.” If you see a bat crawling around the ground, Hawse noted, don’t assume it’s injured and needs your help. Bats can’t just flap their wings and take off like birds. They have to drop into flight from their upside-down hanging positions. The bat will probably find its way to a tree that it can climb to drop into flight.
• All bats aren’t vampire bats. These carnivorous animals are found only in Central and South America. Some bats feed on fruit. All of the bats that are native to Virginia have a diet composed exclusively of insects.
• “We encounter lots of kids that have what we call the ‘Animal Planet’ or ‘Discovery Channel’ syndrome,” Hawse said. “They know about animals from all over the world, but they’re not familiar with what’s in their own backyard.”
• Bats do not carry rabies more often than any other mammal. Hawse noted that less than half of 1 percent of bats carry rabies.
• Bats won’t get stuck in your hair or attack you. If you encounter a bat at dusk, it may swoop toward you, but only because it is eating the insects that are hovering around you.
• “Many children have ‘nature-deficit disorder,’” Hawse said, using the phrase made popular in the book, “Last Child in the Woods” by Richard Louv. “These kids don’t get out in nature enough, so they have unnatural fears like ‘will a bear eat me while we’re hiking?’”

Bat Benefits

Bats provide many benefits to humans, destroying mosquitoes and flies and preying on beetles and caterpillars that damage plants and crops.

“They’re ‘nature’s bug zapper,’” Hawse said, noting that some bats can eat half of their weight, or 600 to 1,000 insects, in a single evening.

Homeowners who are interested in having the creatures around can build their own bat houses. Douthat has a “Roost in Peace” program, where children and adults construct a bat abode using a kit of two-by-four pieces and plywood. Bat houses not only attract the insect eaters to your neighborhood, they can also provide bats an alternative to nesting in other man-made structures, like your attic or chimney. So invite some bats to your backyard. You might have the chance to teach someone else a thing or two about Virginia’s most misunderstood mammal.

A Partridge in a Pear Tree?

A Century Old Christmas Tradition: The Christmas Bird Count in the Valley

by Jeremiah Knupp

It’s a Christmas tradition that dates back more than a century and is celebrated throughout the Western Hemisphere. On chilly winter mornings in late December and early January, small groups will gather before dispersing to the farm fields, the woods and the streams for a day of counting the local feathered inhabitants. Known as the Christmas Bird Count or “CBC,” this winter will mark the 109^th annual count since the first was organized by the National Audubon Society in 1900.

Crista Cabe, data compiler of the Waynesboro count, participated as a child, taking to the field with her father and brothers. More than just a birding activity, the CBC has become a Christmas tradition for Cabe.

“When I think of the Christmas Bird Count I think of a crisp, cold morning, waiting for the sun to come up and watching the birds become more active,” she recalled. “It’s just being out in nature and observing our local wildlife. It wouldn‘t feel like Christmas if I didn‘t do a count or two.”

The CBC developed from the tradition of a Christmas “side-hunt,” in which hunters would take to the fields for a wholesale slaughter of birds regardless of species. Around the turn of the century, naturalists decided to dedicate the tradition to counting, rather than killing, the birds. According to the Audubon Society, who calls the CBC the “the oldest and largest citizen science event in the world,” last year over 50,000 volunteers documented over 60 million birds in 2,000 counts. In the Shenandoah Valley, bird-watching clubs organized six bird counts that included nearly 200 participants.

“Our count is special in that we have a diverse area,” Rob Simpson noted of the northern Valley count. “We are the only count in the Appalachian region that has observed over 100 species [in a single day].”

Each count will take an area formed by a circle with a 15-mile diameter and divide it into sectors. Three to four person teams will be assigned to each sector, counting and documenting all the birds they see for the entire day. Most counters travel by car until they find a concentration of birds to count. Some counters, Ann Simpson noted, canvas the local streams and river by boat.

“We have some energetic counters who will begin at midnight, trying to call in owls,” Rob Simpson said. “It’s a 24-hour adventure.”

“Counting is the first step in learning how environmental threats are affecting our birds,” said Geoff LeBaron, the National Audubon Society‘s Christmas Bird Count director, in a press release on this year‘s event. “The proverbial ‘canaries in the coal mine,’ birds provide an early warning indicator of the health of the world we all share.”

“Canary in a coal mine.” The popular expression comes from the 19^th century practice of using the birds as an early warning system in mining operations. The small animals would be overcome by toxic gases well before their human counterparts, giving the miners a chance to escape.

The census of Valley birds taken during the annual count also serves as a barometer for the local environment, Rob Simpson said. He noted over the last three decades there has been a significant decline in the population of bobwhite quail, a change he links to the changing nature of the Valley. The quail thrive in rural farm fields and overgrown fence rows. As this type of habitat disappears with urbanization, so do the quail.

The count also highlights the effects of global warming, with species that normally head south for the winter still hanging around in December or birds that are migratory becoming residents.

“When I was a child, seeing a blue bird was a rare and wonderful thing,” she said, noting that the bird’s habitat was taken over by the non-native English starling. “Now if you drive down any country road you’ll see blue bird houses and blue birds.”

Participation in the Christmas Bird Count is open to everyone, whether or not you are a member of a birding society. The event draws everyone from students to entire families to out-of-towners in the area to visit relatives over the holidays.

“Each group is led by an experienced birder,” Rob Simpson said. “We pair them up with new people, so the count is a chance to learn more or improve your skills.”

“It’s a non-commercial event that you can do with a good friend or family members and it’s great fellowship,” Cabe said.

Valley residents can also assistant the count without leaving their front yard. Filling up your bird feeder a week before the count will make your home a magnet for local birds. Don’t be alarmed, Ann Simpson noted, if you see someone parked in front of your house with a pair of binoculars on the count day. They’re looking at the birds congregating around your feeder, not you.

“There’s a joy and satisfaction in knowing the area and its species well, when every little cheep or chirp is a specific species,” Cabe said. “Some types of birds that come to the area are like old friends and I love seeing them each year.”

So this year start a new Christmas tradition, by joining a century-old one, helping local citizen scientists use birds to document the Valley’s changing environment.