Thursday, April 26, 2001

The porpoise of clearing up animal nomenclature

I didn't want to say anything at first. In a culture that heaps praise on men who notice the subtlest of nature's signals, surely I was the ignorant one here.
   So I held my tongue, thinking that by opening my mouth I would either confirm an unflattering opinion of me or offend someone. I just might accomplish both with this column.
   But as time passed, my course became clear. I must take the lead, shatter the myth and enlighten the angling public on this mammalian miscarriage and, by doing so, risk carrying the label of nitpickiest outdoors writer.
   Here goes: No porpoises are known to exist in Texas waters.
   There. I feel better.
   Those playful fish-looking animals we see feeding in the bays, leaping in the gulf and riding the wakes of tankers in the ship channel are dolphins - bottlenose dolphins to be exact.
   That's what they should be called. I know Texas tradition allows us to borrow the name of one marine mammal and assign it to another. But if we're going to mislabel an animal, lets call it something unique, rather than causing confusion. The name "porpoise" is already taken.
   So is skipjack. But I'll save that lecture for a column on ladyfish.
   I can feel the collective bristling as I type this. But think about it. You wouldn't call your prized Lab a bird cat rather than a bird dog, would you?
   I just feel that in a town where harsh character judgements are hurled at anglers who misidentify the most similar of shark species, how can half the people I fish with not know the difference between Flipper and . . . see, I can't even name a famous porpoise. That's because none exists.
   Did we learn nothing from the 1960s television show and movie?
   To those who will ask; yes, I have a life.
   Snapper season
   Offshore outfitters were booked solid Saturday for opening day of red snapper season.
   Anglers, eager to break the government-imposed snapper fast, displayed equal amounts of joy in catching good numbers of the tasty pink fish and trust in the skill of their boat captains.
   The season had been closed for federal waters since Oct. 31. And reports of eight- to 12-foot seas going into the weekend forced all but the bravest anglers and the large party boats to stay harbored.
   I was scheduled to fish on a 35-foot Bertram, but the captain nearly was swallowed by the gulf during a trial run to jetties' end.
   I slept in Saturday, but made it to the docks in time to witness Port Aransas glowing pink and green. A number of recovering seasick victims were among the smiling faces and display hooks filled with the coveted deepwater fish.
   I'm told many snapper were caught at shipwrecks, about 20- to 30 miles out, rather than the northern rigs. But platforms paid off for other outfitters.
   Sunday was too rough, even for most the larger vessels. A few private parties fished anyway. And they brought in fish.
   Since the weekend, most party boats and charters remained in port through Tuesday. But five-, eight- and 12-hour trips were planned for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and the coming weekend.