Showing posts with label Freshwater Fish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Freshwater Fish. Show all posts

Friday, 15 February 2013

What Makes the Trout in Ecuador Look Like Salmon?



Billboards and advertisements depicting huge and beautiful rainbow trout announce to travelers in much of the Ecuadorian Andes that fishing is one reason to come here. Photo by Alastair Bland.
A crisp, clear stream flows out of Cajas National Park on a 20-mile circuitous route down to the town of Cuenca—but few fish live in these wild waters. Yet the Quinuas River Valley it forms is a hot destination for sport fishermen. They come by the hundreds each weekend, mostly from Cuenca, seeking the most popular game fish in the world: the rainbow trout.
“What kind of trout live in here?” I ask a young man who serves me coffee at Cabana del Pescador, the campground where I have stayed the night. I am only curious how locals refer to the species Oncorhynchus mykiss, which is native to North American and Siberian streams that enter the Pacific but has been introduced to virtually all suitable habitat on earth. In Ecuador, the species first arrived in the 1960s.
“Normal trout,” he says.
I aim to catch a few fish today and have them for dinner, but I move on, up the road, looking for a happier place to fish. The pond here is muddy, surrounded by concrete and a chain-link fence. Trouble is, I won’t find much better. This valley, though populated by a few wild trout in the streams and lakes of Cajas National Park, is a busy center of aquaculture. Trout farming is generally considered a clean and sustainable industry, though it isn’t always pretty. For a stretch of seven or eight miles downstream of the park, nearly every roadside farm has a handful of concrete-banked pools on the premises, fed by stream water and swarming with trout about 12 inches long.

The trout ponds at Reina del Cisne restaurant and fishing club. Photo by Alastair Bland
Up the road, after passing a half dozen possible fishing sites, I pull in to one called Reina del Cisne, at kilometer 21. It is a restaurant and sport fishing “club,” as the sign tells visitors. I have coffee—NescafĂ©, as always—inside. When I am finished, I ask if there is an opportunity to fish here, and the teenage waiter beckons me to follow. “It’s 50 cents to rent a pole,” he says. “Then, we weigh the trout, and you pay $2.25 per pound.” The biggest fish in the ponds out back are more than ten pounds, he tells me.
He pulls one rod from a heap of several dozen—a broomstick-like pole with a stout line tied to the end and a silver barbed hook at the tip. He quickly mixes up a bucket of bread dough to use as bait, drops a hunk into a shopping-style woven basket and hands me my tackle.
“What kind of trout are these?” I ask, still fishing for local lingo.
“Salmon trout. They have red meat,” he says. He adds, “Good luck,” and returns to the restaurant.
For an angler who has fished in the Rockies and the Sierra Nevada and Alaska and New Zealand, this is a sad comparison, and I feel a strange desire to either cry or laugh hysterically. This would make a perfect opportunity for kids, but I know what real fishing, in real waters, is. Here, I have three ponds to choose from—two of them rectangular, concrete basins, the other a muddy, oval-shaped pool 30 feet across with grassy banks. I flick a piece of dough into this most natural-appearing of the options. Several trout dart from the murk as the white ball vanishes in an instant. I bait my hook and fling it into the middle of the pond, slightly embarrassed that I am participating in what locals advertise as pesca deportiva—or “sport fishing.” A similar flurry of fish attack and strip the hook. I re-bait and try again and this time hook instantly into a feisty rainbow. I drag it in and onto the bank, whack it cold with a stick and drop it in my basket. One down, and in another five minutes I have a second fish. I could take more but, frankly, this isn’t fun or engaging. A year ago exactly I was cycling around New Zealand, casting flies at wild trout six times this size and immeasurably more thrilling to catch—wary, elusive, picky and beautiful. The challenge of enticing one to strike made success an accomplishment. Best of all was the experience of being there, fish or none, standing in crystal clear waters surrounded by green meadows and the tall peaks of the Southern Alps. Indeed, fishing is largely about interacting with the environment, and if one catches no trout on an expedition into the mountains, something else is still gained.
But no matter how big a fish one may pull from a concrete-lined pond, using dough balls for bait, the experience feels as hollow as shopping in a supermarket. While I’m here, I hope I might tangle with an eight-pounder, but no such beast shows itself. I wonder if perhaps they tell all guests that giant trout live in these ponds to encourage business. But back inside the restaurant, my hosts show me the de-boned meat of a 14-pounder caught the day before. The meat is thick and heavy and a delicious-looking salmon red. I ask what the trout eat. “Natural food,” owner Maria Herrera tells me.

Maria Herrera, in the dining room of her restaurant Reina del Cisne, stands with a young employee and the de-boned meat of a 14-pound trout taken from the stocked fish tanks in back. Photo by Alastair Bland.
Down the road, at kilometer 18, I visit a government-run fish hatchery. I roll down the dirt drive, across the stream on a wooden bridge and up a short rise to the facility. I introduce myself to two men in yellow slickers, ankle deep in a muddy concrete basin full of thrashing foot-long trout. The station director, Lenin Moreno, tells me that more than 8,000 adult fish live here. He and his colleague, Ricardo Mercado, are currently trying to get an exact head count in a tank swarming with, they guess, about 300 fish. They take a break and show me to the laboratoria—the hatchery. In the trays and tanks of this covered, concrete-walled facility, 1.3 million juveniles are produced each year and sold to aquaculture operations in four provinces, Moreno tells me.
Outside, they show me a rectangular basin teeming with huge rainbows, green-backed, red-sided beauties that remind me of the two-foot-long giants of New Zealand. Visitors may come here to buy these trout, Moreno tells me. The fish go for $1.50 per pound.

Five- and six-pound rainbow trout cruise through the waters of a 6- by 30-foot concrete basin at a government trout hatchery and farm at kilometer 18 on the Cuenca-Cajas National Park highway. Photo by Alastair Bland.
I ask if the meat is red like salmon. “No—it’s white,” Moreno tells me. “But at the fish farms they feed the trout pigment.”
This doesn’t surprise me. The rainbow trout I grew up on were generally white-fleshed fish. Only occasionally on family camping trips as we cleaned our catch would we discover with excitement that the trout had natural pink meat, which tends to be richer and fattier than paler flesh. But in Ecuador’s many fish markets, I have not yet seen a trout fillet that wasn’t colored like salmon, and I’ve suspected all along that this attractive color (which I’ll admit has drawn my wallet from my pocket more than once) was artificially induced. I recall seeing the fillet of a trout caught in New Zealand just outside the outflow of a Chinook salmon farm that was clearly affected by such pigment—probably either synthetic astaxanthin or canthaxanthin, both used in most commercial salmon farming operations (and the latter of which may cause retinal damage). The trout had presumably been eating pellet feed that escaped from the salmon pens, and the meat was partially colored, patchy red and white like a tie-dyed shirt. Yuck.
I poached my farm-caught trout in cheap Chilean Sauvignon Blanc at my hostel in Cuenca, just off the main street of Calle Larga. The meal was fine and exactly what I had been aiming for when I plunked that ball of dough into the pond at Reina del Cisne. But the fish didn’t quite taste up to par. Because although pink-fleshed trout are a sure catch in the mountain fishing ponds of Ecuador, something else, less easy to describe, native to places like Montana and British Columbia, may evade you with every fish landed.


Neither native nor wild, these small rainbow trout were pulled from a stocked pond in Ecuador, where the species was introduced in the 1960s. Photo by Alastair Bland.



Read more: http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/adventure/2013/02/trout-fishing-in-ecuador/#ixzz2L3W5D0sD
Follow us: @SmithsonianMag on Twitter

More Fishing News: http://gofishtalk.com

Friday, 25 January 2013

Pike found choked on zander in Netherlands

 



The pike with the zander in its mouth in Almere (photo: Rene Spaargaren)
Mr Spaargaren found the fish near his home

Anglers are scratching their heads after a pike was found dead with a zander - a fish of similar size - jammed in its mouth in the Netherlands.

Rene Spaargaren, from Almere near Amsterdam, noticed the dead fish locked together in water near his home and dragged them out with a boat hook.

"It was clear that the pike had bitten off more than it could chew - or swallow, rather," he told BBC News.

British angling expert Charles Jardine said the event was "really unusual".

"What on Earth possessed the pike to take on prey that size?" he asked. "Gluttony just killed that fish."

Mr Spaargaren reported his find to the Dutch nature conservation news website Natuurbericht, which published the story and one of his incredible photographs.
'Not a python'
He came across the fish while doing some work by his jetty this week.

The pike with the zander in its mouth in Almere (photo: Rene Spaargaren)
The pike was unable to release its catch once it had bitten

Having calculated roughly that the pike measured about 1m (3.2ft) long and the zander about 75cm (2ft 5in), with a combined weight of about 15 kilos (33lb), he threw them back in the water.

Speaking to the BBC, Mr Jardine explained that the zander, sometimes known as the "pike-perch" because of its similarities to the two other species of fish, was an unusual choice of target for a pike.

"A pike is not an alligator or a python - it will not accommodate similar-sized food," he told the BBC.

"Because the teeth on a pike go backward, it would have been unable to release its grip on the zander. It was a death grip for the fish."

Mr Jardine, who champions angling among schoolchildren for the Countryside Alliance Foundation, added: "I have seen Victorian pictures of such things, done with artistic licence, but nobody gave them much credence."

A similar phenomenon was reported in Suffolk, England, in October 2011, when a pike was found dead with a carp in its mouth.

However, that pike was more than four times the size of its prey, according to an article in the UK's Daily Mail newspaper.

Source: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-20971848

Friday, 11 January 2013

Boat, outdoor shows open Thursday at I-X Center

By D'Arcy Egan, The Plain De

Boat, outdoor shows open Thursday at I-X Center, with Lake Erie walleye in spotlight

Max Hartman .jpg Lake Erie's legendary walleye fishing will be featured at both the Cleveland Outdoor Adventure
 
Show and the Mid-America Boat Show, both opening Thursday at the I-X Center. Max Hartman, 6, reeled in this trophy walleye while late-season walleye fishing on Lake Erie with his dad, fisheries biologist Travis Hartman of the Ohio Division of Wildlife. The youngster can forever boast he once caught a walleye longer than his arm - or even his leg.
The Cleveland Outdoor Adventure Show and the Mid-America Boat Show both open Thursday at the I-X Center in Cleveland. They are independent shows, with separate admissions, but do have something in common: Lake Erie walleye.
Walleye are the premier game fish around here, driving boat sales and supporting a $2 billion fishing and tourism industry. As expected, both shows focus on the area's favorite fish. The boat show runs through Monday, while the outdoor show wraps up Sunday.
President Ken Alvey of the Lake Erie Marine Trades Association, producer of the Mid-America Boat Show, says about 75 percent of the boats sold by Northeast Ohio dealers will at one time or another launch on Lake Erie.
"The majority of boats sold here are designed for Lake Erie fishing," Alvey said. "It's not only good for boat sales, which are finally on the upswing this year, but critical for local tourism, and the success of area bait and tackle shops, hotels, motels and restaurants."
Travis Hartman, a fisheries biologist at the Division of Wildlife's Sandusky Fish Research Unit, expects this year's walleye fishing to be about the same as it was in 2012, even with reports of poor walleye reproduction and a shrinking walleye population.
"Lake Erie drives the bus when it comes to statewide license sales and angling effort, a reason the Division of Wildlife has an Erie-centric point of view," Hartman said. "Our 2012 (netting) surveys are done, and I don't see much difference in the walleye population for 2013," said Hartman. "If the weather cooperates, we should see lots of walleye in the 16- to 20-inch range caught around the Western Basin throughout the summer. The prime areas for trophy walleye will be from Kelleys Island to Conneaut."
A little more than 400,000 walleye were caught in 2011, a slump caused by extreme weather, lots of wind and rain and an algal bloom not seen since the 1960s. Good fishing weather in 2012 jump-started a walleye fishing resurgence. The annual catch jumping to about 1 million fish, the average over the last decade.
"The walleye fishing may never again be like the 1980s, when you could catch a limit in a couple of hours. The fishing is still be pretty good these days, depending on the weather, of course."
There has been a change in what Lake Erie anglers want from the big lake. A couple of decades ago, walleye ruled. These days, the annual Lake Erie catch is made up of about a 50-50 mix of walleye and yellow perch, a popular panfish with a liberal daily bag limit of 30 fish.
The Cleveland Outdoor Adventure Show will have a wealth of deer and turkey seminars and a trophy deer contest, as well as a mix of fishing seminars. New this year will be kayak fishing and fly casting clinics with Eric Lindstrom of The Backpackers Shop in Sheffield. The legendary Spence Petros returns to talk fishing; Carl Bachtel tackles ice fishing and crappie angling; and guide Pete Alex has the corner on walleye fishing tactics.
For youth anglers, the trout pond is back, and it's free.
Headlining the walleye seminars at the Mid-America Boat Show are Mark Brumbaugh, Jim and Rich Stedke, Gary and Nicholas Zart, Scott Stecher and Hartman. They'll team up for the Walleye College on Saturday from 2-5 p.m. The Bass College on Jan. 20 from 1-4 p.m. features Jonathan Shoemaker, Bryan Coates and Joe Balog. Lance Valentine has seminars on boating electronics.
The boat show is giving away 100 rods and reels to youngsters attending the Saturday Kids Fishing Clinic on Jan. 19 at noon.


Full Article:  http://www.cleveland.com/outdoors/index.ssf/2013/01/boat_outdoor_shows_open_thursd.html

Wilderness Systems Kayak - Ride 115

Wilderness Systems Kayak - Ride 115 - CLOSEOUT MODEL - FREE SHIPPING

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Length - 11'6" / 351 cmWidth - 33" / 84 cmWeight - 76 lbs* / 35 kg (*with seat removed, kayak weighs 68 lbs / 31 kg)Deck Height - 16.5" / 42 cmSeating Well - 67" x 21.5" / 170 x 55 cmCapacity - 500 lbs / 227 kg

Features

- Freedom Elite Seating System - Orbix Bow + Midship Hatches- Flat-Mount Deck/Console Surfaces- Keepers Foot Brace system- SlideTrax Accessory System (front)- Tankwell with Bungee- Recessed, No-Snag Deck Fittings - Self-Bailing Scupper Holes- Cup Holder with Drain - Rudder Ready- Drain Plug- Skid Plate- Made in the USA

Available Colors

RedYellowNEW CamoBlueOrangeMangoNEW Olive Sand



More Info:  http://kayakfishinggear.com/images/products/detail/WS_Ride_115_Orange_Top.jpg

Wednesday, 12 September 2012

Huge muskie 'unbelievable' catch

Huge muskie 'unbelievable' catch   
Ron Smith QMI Agency
First posted: | Updated:
Monster muskie caught in St. Lawrence River near Brockville
Brockville's Jason Phillips shows off a monstrous muskie, which he said weighed in at over 70 lbs., caught and released back into the St. Lawrence River early in November, 2011. (Submitted image)
BROCKVILLE - - There's a huge fish still swimming around in the St. Lawrence River. Brockville's Jason Phillips and Sandra Ellis caught and released a 70-plus pound muskie after a one-hour battle one week ago.
It was the biggest fish – and the first muskie – that Philips had ever caught and the longtime angler released the 54-inch monster back into the depths of the river.
Two years ago, a 65-pound muskie was released back into the St. Lawrence by an Ottawa angler and it was recognized then as a world record for catch-and-release.
“It was unbelievable,” said Philips of the experience. “I didn't know what to think, but I knew it wasn't a pickerel.”
The 38-year-old Philips and Ellis just decided last Wednesday to head out on the St. Lawrence River for an hour or so to try out a new boat and fish for some pickerel.
At 6 p.m. on a calm night, they were fishing in 220 feet of water in the channel about one mile west of St. Lawrence Park. Philips was using a deep diver pickerel lure on his rod with 600 feet of 100-pound test line.
He was trolling along and had just lost a fish when the big muskie hit just seconds later.
“I thought I had the biggest pickerel known to mankind,” said Philips when the fish took the lure. “It jerked the rod and almost pulled it right out of my hands.”
Ellis was just as excited being a spectator to the battle. She was telling Philips to reel it in.
“I can't. It's pulling the boat,” she recalled him saying.
The fish pulled the boat about a quarter of a mile toward St. Lawrence Park, making several runs where it would pull off 200 feet of line at a time.
“It was making the boat bounce up and down,” said Ellis. “Jason said 'that's not a normal fish'. We thought it was a sturgeon.”
Then, after more than 30 minutes, Philips began making progress at reeling it towards the surface. They were able to shine the spotlight on it. Then, they knew what they were battling.
The next part of the drama was to get the fish in the boat. In their haste to head out fishing, Philips and Ellis hadn't grabbed a net.
With the fish beside the boat, Ellis was sitting on Philips' fishing rod while he leaned over the side to bearhug the fish and lift it into the boat.
Philips was warning Ellis to watch out for the fish's large and sharp teeth but he was in a position to lose a hand to one of Canada's largest freshwater species.
The two had a hand weightscale with their fishing gear and the fish pulled it past the 70-pound mark.
They quickly took a few photos of the fish to record the once-in-a-lifetime moment. Then, they lifted the muskie back over the side of the boat and into the river.
“It swam away for 20 yards, stopped for a minute and then it just bolted to the bottom,” recalled Philips in watching to see if the huge fish was alright after the long fight.
There was never any thought of keeping the trophy fish estimated between 20 and 30 years old. Philips and Ellis figured the fish deserved to live to swim and fight again.
The decision was a good advancement for the species that has been ravaged by a deadly virus over the past several years.
In 2005-06, a study by Queen's University in Kingston determined that a virus had decimated almost 50 per cent of the river's muskie population.
After showing photos of the big fish to friends, they learned that Bass Pro Shops would have paid them $10,000 for the muskie to mount it and use it in as a promotional trophy in their stores.
While the money would have been nice, Philips and Ellis were comfortable with their decision to return the muskie to the river.
Philips, who works for Knapp's Paving, and Ellis, who works for the Resource Centre and at Loaves and Fishes in Brockville, are avid hunters and anglers.
The biggest fish they'd caught before this was a 16-pound pickerel.
“It's pretty exciting for people to see that these kind of fish are out there in the St. Lawrence,” said Philips.
After the deer hunting season ends on Saturday, and if the weather co-operates, Philips and Ellis will go out and try their luck again at landing another trophy fish



Articlem Source:  http://www.ottawasun.com/2011/11/17/huge--muskie-unbelievable-catch

Tuesday, 11 September 2012

River stingray(Potamotrygonidae)

River stingray(Potamotrygonidae)

 
River stingrays
Ocellate river stingray, Potamotrygon motoro
Scientific classification
Kingdom:Animalia
Phylum:Chordata
Class:Chondrichthyes
Subclass:Elasmobranchii
Order:Myliobatiformes
Family:Potamotrygonidae
Garman, 1877
Genera
Heliotrygon
Paratrygon
Plesiotrygon
Potamotrygon
River stingrays are Neotropical freshwater fishes of the Potamotrygonidae family (order Myliobatiformes).
They are native to northern, central and eastern South America, living in rivers that drain into the Caribbean, and into the Atlantic as far south as the RĂ­o de la Plata in Argentina. Generally, each species is native to a single river basin, and the greatest species richness can be found in the Amazon.
River stingrays are almost circular in shape, and range in size from Potamotrygon schuhmacheri, which reaches 25 centimetres (9.8 in) in diameter, to the short-tailed river stingray, P. brachyura, which grows up to 1.5 metres (4.9 ft) in diameter. The upper surface is covered with denticles (sharp tooth-like scales). Most species are brownish or greyish and often have distinctive spotted or mottled patterns, but a few species are largely blackish with contrasting white spots.
They have a venomous caudal sting, and are one of the most feared freshwater fishes in the Neotropical region, sometimes more feared than piranhas and electric eels. However, they are not dangerous unless stepped on or otherwise threatened.
River stingrays are the only family of batoids completely restricted to fresh water habitats; while there are true freshwater species in the family Dasyatidae, for example Himantura chaophraya, the majority of species in this family are saltwater fish.

Species

The taxonomy of the river stingrays is complex and undescribed species remain.
Genus Plesiotrygon Rosa, Castello & Thorson, 1987










 

  

 
 

Welsh Angler Catches World Record Giant Mekong Catfish

Welsh Angler Catches World Record Giant Mekong Catfish
 



David Kent, a 54-year-old Welsh angler, now holds the all-tackle record for the largest species of freshwater fish in the world. He earned his record by hauling in a 260-pound Giant Mekong catfish from a lake in Thailand last November.
His catch was made official by the IGFA this week, according to WalesOnline.
Kent (pictured left) is a retired Royal Navy Commander and was on vacation at a fishing resort with his wife when he hooked this monster fish using sweetcorn as bait. The battle lasted about an hour, and at one point Kent had to wade into the lake so the fish wouldn't spool him.
Even though Kent's catfish measures more than 7 feet long, it's by no means the largest member of its species. Mekong catfish have been estimated to grow up to 660 pounds and 9 feet long.
“I usually catch bass weighing four or five pounds off the Pembrokeshire coast so this [fish] was a bit bigger than I’m used to," Kent told WalesOnline.

Read More: http://www.outdoorlife.com/blogs/newshound/2011/06/welsh-angler-catches-world-record-giant-mekong-catfish

Monday, 10 September 2012

Murray cod



Murray Cod
Conservation status

Critically Endangered (IUCN 3.1)[1]
Scientific classification
Kingdom:Animalia
Phylum:Chordata
Class:Actinopterygii
Order:Perciformes
Family:Percichthyidae
Genus:Maccullochella
Species:M. peelii
Binomial name
Maccullochella peelii
(Mitchell, 1838)
This article is about the Australian freshwater fish. For other uses, see Cod (disambiguation) and Murray (disambiguation)
The Murray cod (Maccullochella peelii) is a large Australian predatory freshwater fish of the Maccullochella genus and the Percichthyidae family. Although the species is a called cod in the vernacular, it is not related to the northern hemisphere marine cod (Gadus) species. The Murray cod is an important and charismatic part of Australia's vertebrate wildlife and is found in the Murray-Darling river system in Australia. The Murray cod is the largest exclusively freshwater fish in Australia, and one of the largest in the world. Other common names for Murray cod include cod, greenfish and goodoo.
The scientific name of Murray cod derives from an early Australian fish researcher with the surname McCulloch and the river from which the explorer Major Mitchell first scientifically described the species, the Peel River. This was for a number of years changed to M. peelii peelii to differentiate Murray cod from Mary River cod, which were designated as a subspecies of Murray cod. However, as of 2010 Mary River cod have been raised to full species status (M. mariensis) [2] and thus Murray cod have reverted simply to M. peelii.
Murray cod populations have declined severely since European colonisation of Australia due to a number of causes including severe overfishing, river regulation and habitat degradation and are now a listed threatened species. However, they once inhabited almost the entire Murray-Darling basin, Australia's largest river system, in very great numbers.
A long-lived fish, adult Murray cod are carnivorous and mainly eat other fish. The species exhibits a high degree of parental care for their eggs, which are spawned in the spring and are generally laid in hollow logs or on other hard surfaces. Murray cod are a popular angling target and aquaculture species. Often available through the aquarium trade, they are also a popular aquarium species in Australia.

 Description


A Murray cod, displaying characteristic mottled green colouration. The fish was carefully released after the photo.
Murray cod are a large grouper-like fish with deep, elongated bodies[3] that are round in cross section. They have a broad, scooped head, and a large mouth lined with pads of very small needle-like teeth. The jaws of the Murray cod are equal, or the lower jaw protrudes slightly.[4][5][6]
The spiny dorsal fin of Murray cod is moderate to low in height and is partially separated by a notch from the high, rounded soft dorsal fin.[5] Soft dorsal, anal and caudal (tail) fins are all large and rounded, and are dusky grey or black with distinct white edges.[3][6] The large, rounded pectoral fins are usually similar in colour to the flanks. The pelvic fins are large and angular and set forward of the pectoral fins. The leading white-coloured rays on the pelvic fins split into two trailing white filaments,[5] while the pelvic fins themselves are usually a translucent white or cream, tending toward opacity in large fish.
Murray cod are white to cream on their ventral (belly) surface. Their back and flanks are usually yellowish-green to green, overlain with heavy darker green, but occasionally brown or black, mottling. The effect is a marbled appearance sometimes reminiscent of a leopard's markings. Colouration is related to water clarity;[6] colouration is intense in fish from clear water habitats. Small to medium sized Murray cod from clear water habitats often have striking and very distinct colouration. Very large fish tend towards a speckled grey-green colouration.[7]

Size

Murray cod are large fish, with adult fish regularly reaching 80–100 centimetres (32–39 in) in length in all but the very smallest waterways. Murray cod are capable of growing well over 1 metre (3 ft) in length and the largest on record was over 1.8 metres (6 ft) and approximately 113 kilograms (250 lb) in weight.[5][8][9] Large breeding fish are rare in most wild populations today due to overfishing.[10][11][12][13]

 Related species


Murray cod push significant distances into upland river habitats
Murray cod continue a pattern present in Murray-Darling native fish genera of speciation into lowland and specialist upland species: Murray cod are the primarily lowland species and the endangered trout cod are the specialist upland species. The pattern is slightly blurred in the cod species because, being adaptable and successful fish, Murray cod push significant distances into upland habitats, while the now endangered trout cod stray (or did stray, before their decline) well down the upland/lowland transition zone, which can be extensive in Murray-Darling rivers. Nevertheless, the basic pattern of speciation into a primarily lowland species and a specialist upland species is present.[7]
Murray cod, like a number of other Murray-Darling native fish species, have also managed to cross the Great Dividing Range at least once through natural river capture events, leading to several species and sub-species of coastal cod. The best known are eastern freshwater cod of the Clarence River system in northern New South Wales, and Mary River cod of the Mary River system in south eastern Queensland, both of which are endangered but survive today. Coastal cod were also found in the Richmond River system in northern New South Wales and the Brisbane River system in southern Queensland, but are now extinct.[6][14]

Taxonomy

In the 1800s and early 1900s, commercial fishermen, recreational fishermen, riverside residents and some fisheries scientists (e.g. Anderson, Stead, Langtry) distinctly recognised two species of cod in the southern Murray-Darling basin, Murray cod and trout cod or "blue nose cod". Taxonomically however, confusion abounded. Only one species of cod was taxonomically recognised, the Murray cod (then named Maccullochella macquariensis, after an early Australian fish researcher with the surname McCulloch[15] and the Macquarie River in New South Wales where the holotype was captured[15]) and as trout cod declined into near extinction over the 1900s the distinction between the two species was eroded and finally questioned. In the 1970s early genetic techniques confirmed forever that trout cod were a separate species and further showed that the original "Murray cod" specimen was in fact a trout cod. Following the rules of scientific classification, the name M. macquariensis remained with the original specimen, now known to be the trout cod, and a new name, M. peelii, for the Peel River[15] where the new holotype was captured, was coined for the Murray cod. Subsequently, two further cod were identified as separate species, the eastern freshwater cod (M. ikei) and the Mary River cod (M. mariensis).[6][2]


 Range

The Murray cod is named after the Murray River. The Murray River is part of the Murray-Darling basin in eastern Australia, Australia's largest and most important river system, draining approximately 14% of the continent.[3][16] The Murray cod's natural range encompasses virtually the whole Murray-Darling Basin,[4][5] particularly the lowland areas, and extending well into upland areas — to about 700 m (2,297 ft) elevation in the southern half of the basin and to about 1,000 m (3,281 ft) in the northern half of the basin.[6]

Distribution of Murray cod[4][5]
Consequently, Murray cod inhabit a remarkably wide variety of habitats, from cool, clear, fast-flowing streams with riffle-and-pool structure and rocky substrates in upland areas to large, slow flowing, meandering rivers in the extensive alluvial lowland reaches of the Murray-Darling Basin.[3][5][8][9]

A small Murray cod from a run in an upland river
Murray cod have died out in many of their upland habitats, particularly in the southern Murray-Darling basin, due to a combination of overfishing, siltation, dams and weirs blocking migration, pollution from arsenic-based sheep-dips, mining and in some cases, introduced trout stockings, which causes competition between juvenile Murray cod and introduced trout species.[9]

Age

Murray cod are very long-lived, which is characteristic of many freshwater native fish in Australia.[6] Longevity is a survival strategy in variable Australian environment to ensure that most adults participate in at least one exceptional spawning and recruitment event, which are often linked to unusually wet La Niña years and may only occur every one or two decades.[6] Murray cod are the most long-lived freshwater native fish in Australia.[3] The oldest Murray cod aged yet was 48 years of age,[17] and the even larger specimens of years past leave little doubt that the species can reach considerably greater ages, of 70 years or more.[9]

 Diet

The Murray cod is an apex predator that will eat almost anything smaller than itself, including finned fishes such as introduced carp, goldfish, redfin, native golden perch, bony bream, eel-tailed catfish, western carp gudgeon and Australian smelt, and crustaceans such as yabbies, shrimp and Murray crayfish. A recent study has confirmed that fish compose the majority of the diet of mature Murray cod in lowland river and impoundment habitats, and that Murray cod are apex predators in these habitats.[18] Murray cod have also been known to eat ducks, cormorants, freshwater tortoises, water dragons, snakes, mice and frogs. The observations of the recreational fishermen fishing for Murray cod with surface lures at night reveal that the popular description of Murray cod as a demersal ambush predator is only partially correct. While this behaviour is typical during the day, at night Murray cod are active pelagic predators, venturing into shallow waters and frequently taking prey from the surface.[19]

 Reproduction

Murray cod reach sexual maturity between four and six years of age.[9][20][21] Sexual maturity in Murray cod is dependent on age.[20][21] Therefore, roughly 70% of wild river Murray cod, with their slower growth rate, have reached sexual maturity by 50 centimetres (20 in) in length. Wild Murray cod in impoundments like Lake Mulwala, with their faster growth rates, do not reach sexual maturity until they are well over 60 centimetres (2 ft) in length.[9][20][21] This data strongly indicates that the 60 centimetres (20 in) size limit for Murray cod is inadequate and should be increased substantially to allow greater chance of reproduction before capture.
Large female Murray cod that are in the 15–35 kilogram (35–80 lb) range are the most important breeders because they produce the most eggs and for other reasons;[9] research is now showing large females in most fish species are also important because they produce larger larvae with larger yolk sacs, and are also more experienced breeders that display optimal breeding behaviours.[13][22][23][24] Such large females may also have valuable, successful genes to pass on.[13] All of these factors mean the spawnings of large female fish have far higher larval survival rates and make far greater reproductive contributions than the spawnings of small female fish.[13][22][23][24]
Female Murray cod, upon first reaching sexual maturity, will have egg counts of no more than around 10,000. Very large female Murray cod can have egg counts as high as 80,000–90,000,[8] although a recent, very large 33 kg specimen yielded an egg count of 110,000 viable eggs.[13] Egg counts in female Murray cod of all sizes are relatively low compared to many fish species.[13][25]
Murray cod spawn in spring, cued by rising water temperatures and increasing photoperiod (daylight length). Initially, fish biologists working with Murray cod considered spring floods and temperatures of 20–21° Celsius (68-70°F) to be necessary[25] and that spring flooding is critical for successful recruitment (i.e. survival to juvenile stages) of young cod by providing an influx of pelagic zooplankton and early life-stage macroinvertebrates off the flood plain into the main river channel for first feeding, but more recent research has shown Murray cod breed annually, with or without spring floods, and at temperatures as low as 15° Celsius (59°F).[5][9][20][21][26] Additionally, recent research has shown abundant epibenthic/epiphytic (bottom dwelling/edge clinging) prey in non-flooded lowland rivers,[26][27] traits in Murray cod larvae that should allow survival in a variety of challenging conditions,[28] and a significant proportion of Murray cod larvae feeding successfully in non-flooded rivers.[28][29]
Latest research has also shown that Murray cod in fact live their entire life cycle within the main channel of the stream. Earlier ideas that Murray cod spawn on floodplains, or that Murray cod larvae feed on floodplains, are incorrect. Murray cod breed in the main river channel or, in times of spring flood, the inundated upper portion of the main channel and tributary channels, but not on floodplains. Murray cod larvae feed within the main river channel or, in times of spring flood, on the inundated upper portion of the main channel and the channel/floodplain boundary, but not on the floodplain.[30]
Spawning is preceded by significant upstream migrations if high spring flows or floods allow. Radio-tracked Murray cod in the Murray River have migrated up to 120 kilometres (75 mi) upstream to spawn, before returning to exactly the same snag they departed from, an unusual homing behaviour in a freshwater fish.[30] Decades of observations by recreational and commercial fishermen suggest such spring spawning migrations are common across the Murray cod's geographical range.[6] Spawning is initiated by pairing up and courtship rituals. During the courtship ritual a spawning site is selected and cleaned — hard surfaces such as rocks in upland rivers, and logs and occasionally clay banks in lowland rivers, at a depth of 2–3 metres (6–10 ft), are selected. The female lays the large adhesive eggs as a mat on the spawning surface, which the male fertilises. The female then leaves the spawning site. The male remains to guard the eggs during incubation, which takes six to ten days (depending on water temperature), and to guard the hatched larvae for a further week or so until they disperse. Larvae disperse from the nest site by drifting in river currents at night, and continue this behaviour for around four to seven days.[9][20][21][26][31][32][33][34] During this dispersal process larvae simultaneously absorb the remainder of their yolk sac and begin to feed on pelagic zooplankton, small, early life-stage macroinvertebrates and epibenthic/epiphytic (bottom dwelling/edge clinging) microinvertebrates.[28][29]
This information shows that the relationship between river flows and Murray cod recruitment are more complex than first thought, and that in less regulated rivers, Murray cod may be able to recruit under a range of conditions including stable low flows. (Significant recruitment of Murray cod in low flow conditions in less regulated lowland rivers has now been proven.) This information also suggests that non-river-regulation related causes of degradation are playing a larger role in the survival and recruitment of Murray cod larvae than first thought; competition from extremely large numbers of invasive carp larvae are negatively affecting the survival and recruitment of Murray cod larvae to a much greater degree than first thought;[35] and that decades of overfishing is playing a far larger role in the current state of Murray cod stocks, through depletion of spawning adults, than first thought.[10]
These findings do not mean that river regulation and water extraction have not had adverse effects on fish stocks. Rather, river regulation has been a major factor in the decline of Murray cod and other native fish.[4] Thermal pollution is also a major problem (see below), there is evidence that strong Murray cod recruitment events (which may be important for sustaining Murray cod populations over the long term) can result from spring flooding, and copious evidence that the health of Australian lowland river ecosystems generally rely on periodic spring flooding.[10][36] Also, due to the regulation of most of the rivers in the Murray-Darling river system, mainly for irrigation purposes, only exceptional spring floods manage to "break free". The long term viability of wild Murray cod, other native fish species and river ecosystems, in the face of this fact, are of great concern.[10]

 Conservation

Murray cod were originally the most common large native fish in the Murray-Darling basin. Contrary to some fishery department literature, the first serious declines in Murray cod were caused by overfishing — extremely severe overfishing. In the latter half of the 1800s and the early 1900s, Murray cod — very large, very long-lived fish — were caught in unimaginable numbers by both commercial and recreational fishermen. For example, one commercial fishing operation commenced on the Murray River near Echuca in 1855, targeting Murray cod over hundreds of kilometres of river, and yet within eight years, grave concerns over the sustainability of this operation, and complaints about the near-absence of Murray cod in their heavily fished grounds, were being raised in the main state newspaper, The Argus.[37] And yet fishing effort continued to increase in the region so that in the late 1880s and early 1890s, between 40,000 and 150,000 kg of mostly Murray cod (between 7,500 and 27,000 fish, at an average weight of 5.5 kg) were caught near Echuca.[37] Similarly, in 1883, more than 147,000 kg of Murray cod were sent to Melbourne from just one river town (Moama).[8] By the 1920s Murray cod had been overfished to the point where large-scale commercial fishing operations were no longer feasible.[8][9] Recreational fishermen took similarly excessive hauls during this era, using rods and reels, handlines, setlines, drum nets, gill nets and even explosives, with hauls often either wasted or illegally sold. Perhaps this extreme overfishing and its impacts of wild Murray cod stocks is best summarised by a short article in the Register News (a South Australian newspaper) in 1929:
In [the last] 29 years 26,214,502 lbs (nearly 11,703 tons) [11,915,683 kg] of Murray cod has been eaten by the people of Melbourne. The Superintendent of Markets (Mr G. B. Minns) included these figures in a statement he made today pointing out that the supply was declining. In 1918, the peak year, 2,229,024 lbs [1,045,010 kg] was received at the market, but since 1921, when 1,101,520 lbs [501,145 kg] was sent to Melbourne, supply has decreased. Last year [1928] it was only 551,040 lbs [250,473 kg].[38]
Incredibly, 20 years later the aquatic ecologist J.O. Langtry was still compelled to criticise the extremely heavy, lawless, fishing pressure, in the form of both uncontrolled small-scale commercial fishing and rampant illegal fishing, he was confronted with in all reaches of the Murray River he investigated in 1949–1950.[32]
Indeed, a thorough reading of historical newspaper articles and historical government reports reveals that the whole history of wild Murray cod between the mid–1800s and the mid–1900s was one of citizen agitation, government inaction, and ongoing stock decline. For decade after decade, riverside residents, commercial fishermen, recreational fishermen, local fisheries inspectors, fish retailers and others agitated in newspapers and other fora about the evidently, continuously declining Murray cod stocks, to be met in turn either with government denials, or conversely, with various ineffective inquiries into Murray cod stocks and fisheries, and various ineffective control measures. For decade after decade, debate about excessive fishing pressure, number of fishermen, number of nets, net mesh size, bag limits, minimum size limits and take of small cod, closed seasons and the taking of spawning cod full of eggs during spring, and other sundry issues, raged on and on without proper resolution, with fishing regulations either not amended, or amended and largely unenforced and completely ignored, and with heavy commercial, recreational and illegal fishing pressure continuing unrelenting and unabated. The end result was a Murray cod population, initially unimaginably abundant, continually fished down and down and down without pause, until in the early to mid 20th century a number of other factors such as river regulation (listed below) emerged to drive the species even further into decline. All of these drivers of decline have left this iconic Australian fish in a perilous situation. There are now grave concerns for the long term survival of wild Murray cod populations.[39][40][10]

An example of extreme, severe, overfishing of Murray cod in the late 1800s, which cause the first strong declines in the species. Such catches were typical for the period.
Although angler effects are sometimes disregarded in the overall picture today, recent population studies have shown that while all year classes are well represented up to the minimum legal angling size (now 60 centimetres in most states), above that size, numbers of fish are dramatically reduced almost to the point of non-existence in many waters.[12][39] Some emphasis has been made of the results of two small surveys which suggested a majority of Murray cod are released by anglers. However, there are valid questions as to the representativeness of these surveys, these surveys do not explain the dramatic disappearance of large numbers of young Murray cod at exactly the minimum size limit, and most importantly, any emphasis on these surveys miss the fundamental point — as a large, long-lived species with relatively low fecundity and delayed sexual maturity wild Murray cod populations are extremely vulnerable to overfishing, even with only modest angler-kill.[12][39] A tightening of fishing regulations for wild Murray cod, as referred to above, and a switch by fishermen to a largely catch and release approach for wild Murray cod would alleviate this problem.[12]
Another issue is that Murray cod caught and released in winter, while developing their eggs, or in spring prior to spawning, resorb their eggs and do not spawn.[9][31][41] This may be a minor issue compared to some of the other threats facing Murray cod, nevertheless, concerned fishermen try to avoid catching wild Murray cod at these times.[6] At this point in time a closed season is in place for the spring spawning period, during which anglers are not allowed to target Murray cod, even on a catch and release basis.
State Government Fisheries departments support Murray cod populations by stocking with hatchery bred fish, especially in man made lakes.[39] Important issues affecting restoration of cod populations, such as the need for spring floods and excessive angler take, although yet to be addressed,[39] will be dealt with in the National Recovery Plan when it is completed.[42]

 Effects of river regulation

The Murray River and southern tributaries originally displayed a pattern of high flows in winter, high flows and floods in spring, and low flows in summer and autumn. The breeding of Murray cod and other Murray-Darling native fish was adapted to these natural flow patterns. River regulation for irrigation has reversed these natural flow patterns, with negative effects on the breeding and recruitment of Murray cod. The Murray and most southern tributaries now experience high irrigation flows in summer and autumn and low flows in winter and spring. Small and medium floods including the once annual spring flood-pulse have been completely eliminated.[4][5][39][43]
It is estimated that flows at the river mouth by 1995 had declined to only 27% of natural outflows.[44] The probability of the bottom end of the Murray experiencing drought like flows had increased from 5% under natural conditions to 60% by 1995.[44]
Thermal pollution is the artificial reduction in water temperatures, especially in summer and autumn, caused when frigid water is released from the bottom of reservoirs for irrigation demands. Thermal pollution inhibits both the breeding of Murray cod and the survival of Murray cod larvae, and in extreme cases inhibits even the survival of adult Murray cod.[6]
The rare floods that do break free of the dams and weirs of the Murray-Darling system have their magnitude and duration deliberately curtailed by river regulators. Increasing research indicates this management practice is very harmful and drastically reduces the general ecosystem benefits and breeding and recruitment opportunities for Murray cod and other Murray-Darling native fish species these now rare floods can provide.[4][5][39][43]

 Physical barriers to fish movement

Dams, weirs and other instream barriers block the migration of adult and juvenile Murray cod and prevent recolonisation of habitats and maintenance of isolated populations.[6] Additionally, recent study has proven approximately 50% of Murray cod larvae are killed when they pass through undershot weirs.[45]

 Habitat degradation / siltation

Hundreds of thousands, perhaps more than a million, submerged timber "snags", mainly River Red Gum, have been removed from lowland reaches of the Murray-Darling basin over the past 150 years.[46] The removal of such a vast number of snags has had devastating impacts on Murray cod and river ecosystems. Snags are critical habitats and spawning sites for Murray cod. Snags are also critical for the functioning of lowland river ecosystems — as one of the few hard substrates in lowland river channels composed of fine silts snags are crucial sites for biofilm growth, macroinvertebrate grazing and general in-stream productivity.[39][46]
Vegetation clearing and cattle trampling river banks create severe siltation, which fill in pools, degrade river ecosystems and make rivers and streams uninhabitable for Murray cod.[5] This is exacerbated by removal of riparian (riverbank) vegetation which causes siltation and degrades river ecosystems in many ways.[6]

 Overfishing

While extremely severe commercial and recreational overfishing in the 1800s and the early 1900s caused the first strong declines of Murray cod, overfishing by recreational fishermen, aided by inadequate fishing regulations, continues today and remains an extremely serious threat to Murray cod. The current size limit of 60 centimetres in most states is inadequate now that scientific studies have documented average size at sexual maturity in Murray cod.[12] This and catch data and computer modelling exercises[12] on wild Murray cod stocks indicate measures such as raising the size limit to 70 centimetres and reducing the bag and possession limits from 2 and 4 fish respectively to 1 fish are urgently needed to maintain the long term viability of wild Murray cod populations. At this point there are no immediate moves to implement these reforms.

 Introduced carp

Evidence is mounting that there is serious competition for food between larval/early juvenile introduced carp and larval/early juvenile native fish.[35] Introduced carp dominate the fish faunas of lowland Murray-Darling rivers; the sheer amount of biomass carp now take up, and the large numbers of larvae carp produce, causes serious negative effects on river ecosystems and native fish.[35]

 Introduced pathogens

Murray cod have soft skin and fine scales that leave them vulnerable to infection from exotic disease organisms. The following exotic disease organisms all seriously affect wild Murray cod; all have been introduced by imports of exotic fish. Chilodenella is a single-celled, parasitic protozoa that infects the skin of Murray cod and has caused a number of serious kills of wild Murray cod. Saprolegnia is a fungus that frequently infects Murray cod eggs and the skin of Murray cod that have been roughly handled through poor catch and release technique. (It is essential that Murray cod intended for release are not put down any hard, dry, rough or hot surfaces, e.g. boat gunwhales, boat floors, dry grass, dry rocks, gravel banks, dry towels or mats, etc.) Wild Murray cod populations across their range suffer extremely severe infestations of Lernaea or "anchor worm", a parasitic copepod that burrows into the skin of Murray cod. Severe Lernaea infestations probably causes the death of many more adult Murray cod than commonly recognised. Ebner[18] reports a young adult Murray cod seemingly killed by severe Lernaea infestation.

 Relationship with humans


Statue of a Murray cod in Tocumwal, New South Wales
Murray cod play a very important role in the mythology of many Aboriginal tribes in the Murray-Darling basin,[4] and for some tribes, particular those living along the Murray River, Murray cod were the icon species.[47] The myths of these tribes describe the creation of the Murray River by a gigantic Murray cod fleeing down a small creek to escape from a renowned hunter. In these myths, the fleeing Murray cod enlarges the river and the beating of its tail create the bends in it. The cod is eventually speared near the terminus of the Murray River, chopped into pieces, and the pieces thrown back into the river. The pieces become all the other fish species of the river. The cod's head is kept intact, told to "keep being Murray cod", and also thrown back into the river.



Source: http://wikipedia.org