The subject of noise and its influence on fishing
is one that has fascinated me for many years. Just the other day
this interest was rekindled.
The day was one of those that arrive regularly in
the Taupo area, central North Island, NZ. Clear blue skies providing no shade from the
sun. I was planting some trees on a knoll overlooking the Hinemaiaia
River mouth. Between planting each tree I paused to drip sweat,
straighten my aching back, and watch a couple of blokes fishing
the rip (the current that pushes into the lake from the river). Over the next two hours
these blokes persisted without a fish to reward their patience.
I really did not expect to see them catch fish.
Convention has it that fishing in the middle of a clear bright
day is not the optimum time to catch fish. Then I noticed one
of the boats that used the river mouth to launch returning. The
boat cruised up the rip, between the anglers, and on into the
river mouth proper.
Almost immediately after the boat past between the
anglers one of the them hooked up in the still foaming propeller
wash. As he walked back out to land his fish the other angler
hooked up. Fish landed, both wandered back into the water and
cast again. On the first or second cast one of the pair hooked
up again and landed the fish.
By now the lake and rip had returned to its pre-boat
pristine sparkling state. Over the next half to three quarters
of an hour the two caught no more fish. They left and soon after
so did I.
This incident is not, in my fishing experience, isolated.
I have written before about the noise Ed the Lad used to make
in our tiny tinny when we arrived at our fishing possie. The anchor
chain rattling over the combing started the cacophony. The dropped
knives, tackle boxes, fish bins, berley pot and more, added to
the sonic overload in the surrounding water. Then, and too often
to postulate coincidence, Ed would fire a bait out into this noise
and immediately hook up.
Those who have fished with Mark Kitteridge (writer and devout fisherman)
will know that it would take moving at the speed of light to get a
bait into the water before him. As soon as the anchor leaves on
its journey to the bottom, Mark’s bait is wafting down. Too
often for those with delicate egos, Mark immediately hooks up.
Those requiring proof of a fish’s attraction
to noise should drop a stone into a fish pond. The fish will immediately
bolt for cover, and then almost immediately return to investigate
the disturbance.
Try throwing a sinker into the ball of fish in a
berley (groundbait) trail and watch the fish bolt into the depths, only to
return in an even more frenzied state, almost at once.
Hook up a fish in a berley trail and watch the frantic
dashing and ducking of the hooked fish propel the others into
a frenzy, slashing at anything in the water.
There is also growing evidence that fish can be
‘trained’ using sound. In Japan there is an experiment
going on right now that may produce a new slant on fish farming.
Newly hatched fish are fed from an automatic feeder at irregular
intervals, but before the feed is released a rhythmic sound is
emitted from near the feed station. At a certain stage the fish
are released into the open sea, but still automatic feeding stations
with the dinner call sound is still used. Once the fish reach
marketable size the fish are called, not to lunch, but to a waiting
net.
This technique may have its origins in the Pacific
Islands where several places regularly ‘call’ in fish,
especially sharks, by using a ‘rattle’of hard dried-coconut shells in the
water.
Lures that contain ‘rattles’ have been
around for donkey’s years and work. Banging a knife on a
tank to attract kingis is an
old divers trick.
Despite much evidence that many fish, especially
predator fish, are attracted by certain noises most anglers prefer
to keep things as quiet as possible when fishing. My view is that
this has more to do with our own human make-up than any rational
notion of what may or may not attract or repel fish.
Most successful fishing requires intense concentration.
It does not matter if it is tactile concentration, waiting to
feel a bite on a bait, or visual concentration watching a float,
indicator or dry fly.
This concentration requirement exists even in styles
of fishing where there is little contact with the rod or line,
such as when trolling. The most successful game skippers are those
whose concentration is riveted on picking up the often very subtle
changes in the ocean or sky that may indicate water that may hold
their quarry.
To consistently catch more fish requires blocking
out extraneous elements. ‘Focus’ is the current buzz
word for this. So it is perhaps not surprising that noise is a
problem for anglers. For most humans noise, especially sudden
loud noise is a cause for alarm, and certainly a concentration
breaker. But loud noise is a relative term.
Toss a small pebble into the water near a fly fisherman,
and watch his head swivel at neck breaking speed. Even above the
rumble of diesel engines and waves slapping on the side of the
boat watch a big-game fishing skipper’s reaction to a lure dropped onto the
cockpit floor. Drop a small sinker onto the floor of a tinny
and watch the concentrating angler at the back of the boat start
in alarm.
Don’t subscribe to this concentration theory?
Then try this. For many fishermen, fishing is a prime source of
relaxation. A bit of quiet time on the river, lake or sea. Loud
noises do nothing to soothe shattered nerves.
But do the fish below give a rats razoo about all
this racket? Probably not a jot.
Fish are from Aquarius, Man is from Mars. Our worlds
are totally different. Because of this some noises that seems
inconsequential above the water become very important under the
water.
Many fishermen will have experienced the sudden
cessation of good fishing for no apparent reason, until a school
of dolphins appears to our view. Chances are the fish have ‘felt’
the wash of the dolphins sonar system long before we spot their
nemesis. These relatively low range sonic signals may be the reason
that fishing with tight mono line is sometimes ineffective. Tight
monofilament ‘strums’ at low resonance levels. Maybe
it approximates the dolphin signals. Using mono as down rigger
cable is regarded as a no-no for this reason.
Many game skippers try to keep as much of the leader
to game lures out of the water as possible, more especially when
fishing for tuna. The reason given for this is that tuna can be
spooked by seeing the line. I have no proof, but I think they are
right, but for the wrong reason. It will take some convincing to
persuade me that fish have enough nous to join line and lure together
as a unit. I believe it is probable that short line lengths to
close-in lures can strum, or produce low resonant ‘noise’.
My theory seems to receive some backing from the fact that many
tuna are caught on lures trailed well back behind the boat, where
if anything the line is in plainer view. There is little strumming
from long line lengths.
To add even further backing to my hypothesus I have observed that
when close-in lures are pulled down with rubber bands the strike
rate increases. The rubber bands seem to dampen the strumming,
whereas metal or clothes peg clips add a further shortening element,
much like the bridges on a guitar.
Low resonance noise seems to spell danger to fish.
It is the noise produced by sonar producing predators such as
dolphin, and the noise produced by the movements of large predators
such as sharks and marlin.
Fishing with very heavy sinkers or jigs in a strong
current can also produce strumming. This may be why using very
long leaders to get the bait away from the main line have become
the standard when fishing this way. The further the bait is away
from the strumming main line the better.
There is another theory that the very regular, relatively
low level signals produced by sounders may deter fish. For this
reason many good fishermen turn off the sounder once they are
at anchor.
So the theory is growing that low, regular rhythmic
noise is a greater fish deterrent than harsh staccato noise. Just
about the exact opposite to human reaction to noise. It may well
be that sudden sharp sounds beat out a message that a fish is
in trouble, and a fish in trouble signals food to other fish.
But regular rhythmic sounds spell trouble for the fish that feels
it. Maybe the fishermen who dislike music being played on the
boat while fishing have got a point.