Jaws that bite

Recently I came upon a copy of The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger, and found it captivating.

[Please note: this post contains one or more affiliate links where you can purchase the book(s) I mention. If you buy as a result of following a link, I may receive a small commission.]

Comments along the way about catching mako sharks, incidental to fishing for swordfish, caught my attention. Junger relates that “occasionally longliners haul mako up … They’re dangerous though … touching even a severed head can trigger it to bite.”

This brought to mind the stories we used to hear in Juneau, Alaska, the stories about lone fishermen going missing from their skiffs, only to have someone later discover the skiff, adrift, with only a large, dead, halibut on board. Did this ever actually happen? It seemed plausible, although I’m not sure how a very large, live halibut could possibly be pulled into a skiff by a single person. These stories invariably involved an extremely large fish that would take up most of the room in a skiff.

We’d also heard that some fishermen habitually carried a handgun when fishing for halibut, so they could shoot it in the head before bringing it on board.

Fishing one weekend, out in our skiff with our friend Ron, we finally caught a decently sized halibut. Having no gun and no plans for shooting fish, we cut its gills to bleed it, and tied a line through its mouth so it would trail in the water beside the boat. Even after it had long since bled out, it still managed to rouse and thrash at times, loudly banging on the side of the boat well after it should have been dead. This prompted discussion about how to know when a halibut is actually dead.

Anticipating halibut blackened on the barbecue, we headed for home. We were taking turns posing and taking pictures with the largest fish any of us had caught when conversation turned to the strange arrangement of a halibut’s head, which is twisted so that both eyes are on one side of its mouth. We wondered aloud where you would shoot, if you were trying to shoot a halibut in its brain. Where exactly is its brain?

Accepting the challenge, Ron took a short, sharp knife and proceeded to dissect its head. After some minutes of untidy knife work he hooted that he’d found it and held it up – it was the size of a thumb nail. Somehow the idea of using a handgun to accurately shoot an active halibut in such a small spot seemed silly, and really not worth the risk of messing around with a firearm when you are busy trying to land a big fish in a small boat.

Of the swordfishing fleet Junger says: “The rule for mako is that they’re not considered safe until they’re on ice in the hold. For that reason some boats don’t allow live mako on board; if one is caught, the gaffer pins him against the hull while another crew member blows his head open with a shotgun. Then he’s hauled on board and gutted.”

I can see that. If you’re going to shoot a dangerous fish a shotgun sounds a much better bet. Even then you’d still want to stay clear of the teeth.

 

It brings to mind Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky”:

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son !

   The jaws that bite, the claws that catch !

…

“One, two! One, two! And through and through

   The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

   He went galumphing back.”

At least the Jabberwock’s head was safely dead before being galumphed.

 

Image: University of Washington, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons