Like most people who enjoy hunting fishing, and generally carousing around in the outdoors, I’ve had the great fortune to see some truly incredible things. The kinds of things only seen by those who have spent an inordinate amount of time being present in the outdoors to experience whatever may happen. I was reminded of one such majestic encounter after reading an article today about the incredible effort to restore a native Missouri salamander called the Hellbender. There are no hair raising moments nor tales of daring involved, but moments of bliss and wonder as we coasted through the night.
When we left the boat launch, it wasn’t all that cold. Sure we could see our breath in the air a bit, and we all had coats on preparing for the cold that approached with the early sinking winter sun. There were four of us in the mostly olive green jonboat headed out to gig for suckers. In the wintertime, these curious fish are just a bit slower and just a bit more accessible than usual, and the season opens to try our skill at hand to hand combat with the bottom of the river. That is the only way to describe my first twenty or so haphazard thrusts at a fish, oftentimes ten feet below, with refraction to contend with and an increasingly damp set of gloves. But eventually, the sixteen foot long gig, tipped with a hand-forged five pointed head, begins to feel a bit more natural in my hand, I pick up a few tenths of a second in my reaction time, and begin to connect.
The first sucker feels like a miracle, this writhing little thing a foot long on the end of the gig. Given the excitement, it is easy to see how one could forget what to to do with the fish. Turning the wrong way, always the wrong way the first few times, I swing the gig over the person on the rail next to me and in the direction of the catch bucket. There is a handy metal plate to help dislodge the sucker and deposit it in the bucket, and after no more than two minutes and five encouraging “For Christ’s sakes!” from my companions, I finally deposit the fish.
The next few come easier, and as we move up and down the river, we start picking off fish, getting so bold as to look for the “right” size of suckers for ideal consumption. By the time I switch off so another person has some time at the rail, I’ve just remembered it is cold, and I’m wet from the shoulders down to my fingertips, which I can no longer feel. But it doesn’t matter. The night is full of wonders. I sit back and grab a quick drink, some beef jerky, and warm my fingers with the exhaust from the generator running the lights.
So far in addition the the sought after suckers, we’ve seen catfish, bass, even a walleye, none of which are in the cards for gigging prospects. The occasional turtle scoots across the water, and rustling draws our eyes to the river’s edge where slick shined looking beavers much away at tender twigs. I’m back at the rail, and now it is cold enough that ice is forming on the gigs as they come out of the water. The fishing has slowed a bit, and we want a few more to make a good mess for eating. Scanning the riverbed in a silty section, looking at nothingness in the bright light of the buzzing halogen lamp, it is easy to stop really paying attention. But as soon as you stop watching, something happens.
Suddenly something comes into view. The cold is forgotten with the prospect of another fish, but this time it is not a fish. As I peer into the water trying to decide what I’m looking at, my friend at the rail with me mentions that it looks a bit like a lizard. Not quite a lizard, but the cold shakes out of my brain and the dots connect, a hellbender. I ask our host to circle the boat as we drift by. As we round our turn, my eyes never leave the water where I think this creature was last sitting on the bottom. Memories return from articles in magazines, clips from field days, and other mentions of the mysterious and endangered hellbender.
If I’m being honest, I never thought I would see a hellbender. I looked again down into the water to see it it trundling along the bottom, headed nowhere in particular, and was astounded. A creature I had personally written off as a tragedy of the times was there in front of me. Hellbenders are not a majestic creature, but they are fascinating to watch, so for as long as I could hold my companions attention, we watched it. After a moment, it was back to gigging for suckers.
After we filled our limits and loaded the boat, we parted ways and began the trek home. During the late night drive, my mind kept drifting back to the simple pleasure of seeing a hellbender. Being outside at night is one of my favorite pastimes. Whether fishing, hunting, or camping, I never cease to be amazed at the things that can be seen. Most people would say I simply got lucky seeing this amazing amphibian, and certainly there was an element of being in the right place at the right time. But then again, the right place is in nature, and the right time is whenever you possibly can.
If You’d like to learn more about Hellbenders and their restoration efforts, follow the links below.
https://mdc.mo.gov/wildlife/wildlife-restoration/hellbender-restoration
https://www.stlzoo.org/conservation/wildcare-institute/hellbendersinmissouri
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