The Shellfish/Herring Warden's Report
on the Weir and Jetty
This year's herring run was fairly late and short-lived, but I did see many fish and elvers cross over the weir and into Oyster Pond. To facilitate their run into the pond through a deep enough passage across the weir, I raised the wide portion of the weir by adding a 2x4 to the existing board in late February and lowered the narrow fish chute portion by taking out a 2x4 there. This gave enough water depth for the fish to run into the pond under a variety of conditions. (Also, the fish like the strong flow that resulted from this board configuration.) By mid-May the pond level had lowered so that water only flowed through the fish chute. The herring run being over by end of May even for stragglers, I reset the boards to their original, same-height positions. The repaired jetties appear to be working well. Very little material was washed into Trunk River during the spring storms. One problem are the small stones used for chinking. Those small loose stones are irresistible to aspiring young marine engineers as well as to old-enough-to-know-better herring poachers to use them for building dams in the river. I have posted signs for the herring season that warn not to move the rocks around, but the summer months will probably see an increase in such stone migration.
Paul Montague, Shellfish Constable, Town of Falmouth
Anatomy of a Jetty. Construction Work Winter 2001. Photo by R. Livinstone
Do you ever go down to the weir and just stand there and watch what's going on in that stretch between the culvert and the weir? You may be in for a surprise! Recent activities observed during 10-minute watches: A baby snapper turtle trying again and again to buck the current and get to the pond - in vain. Two glass eels (elvers) alternating with the turtle in the same effort - or is it a joyride? Meanwhile a muskrat comes plowing through the culvert and disappears into the rocky bank. On another day, a 2 1/2-foot snapping turtle heaves her/himself across the wide board of the weir and heads upstream for the pond. The water between culvert and weir is thick and black with thousands of 2-inch long alewife fingerlings. They crowd up against the weir, drift toward the culvert, circle back, mill around endlessly. Once in a while, like a silver arrow, one of them flits upstream across the weir. A HUGE turtle head surfaces next to the board - the nostrils open, one eye fixes on me (the other one is missing), the mouth opens and snaps shut over several fish, a tiny tail still showing, and then the head submerges. A much smaller turtle, its back bright green with algae, comes up for air, is shocked by the sight of me, and paddles off in a hurry. A fat, 2-foot or so eel slithers across the board in a flash. The green heron of last Watershed's issue is back, anxiously waiting for me to leave so that he/she can fish in peace. []Frequent splashes sound from the culvert, presumably white perch, eel or more turtles trying to catch a meal. A large blue crab now also retreats from my shadow in the water. I take the hint and move to the lagoon-side of the culvert, across Surf Dr. There are lots of mummichogs and other fish I can't identify around the culvert mouth, some with beautiful blue heads, golden-rimmed rounded fins and tail. They all are shy and shoot off into deeper water when I crane my neck over the railing. WHOOOSH, SPLASH - an osprey plummets down and grabs a fish not 30 feet from where I stand, and rises with a triumphant wheeeiieee. All that life in that little stretch of water of our Oyster Pond! B. Rose
Jason Hyatt positioning hydrometer at the weir. Photo by E. Hahn
To page five of The Watershed V. 6, No. 1
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