Watching The Fish

I love fish. And whenever I say that, most people assume I love either eating fish or catching them. But neither of those is what I mean.

What I mean, more than anything, is that I love watching them at home in the places where they live.

I love watching fish swim, or glide gracefully in the current, somehow managing to stay still in moving water.

This is one of my favorite mangroves in Belize, where I can watch the whole lifecycle of some fish. Off there in the distance is one of the places I like to snorkel with my students on the fore-reef.

And I love being where the fish are. Hiking mountain streams, walking along beaver ponds, kayaking across a lake. My work as someone who studies fish takes me to some wonderful places, like the Brooks Range in Alaska and the barrier reef off the coast of Belize.

Dad taught me to be an angler, and I have fond memories of fishing with him in the Ashokan Reservoir in Ulster County, New York, or of walking along freestone streams in the Catskills, looking for brook trout. (Thanks, Dad!)

But a few years ago, I had a realization: I don’t love catching fish. I love being with the fish.

This realization came to me while I was on a boat with my students in Belize. We were getting ready to snorkel along the fore-reef of a barrier island, in about 50 feet of water. While I was on the boat, my hands were itching for a fishing rod. What would I catch if I cast into these waters?