Fisherman vs. breadcrumb-brained perch

“There he stands, draped in more equipment than a telephone lineman, trying to outwit an organism with a brain no bigger than a breadcrumb, and getting licked in the process.�

 â€”Paul O’Neil, 1965

One look at the swollen Housatonic at Dutcher’s Bridge Sunday morning told me that it would be rough going downstream, so I turned my attention back to South Pond on Mt. Riga, heading out in the pontoon boat at about 5 p.m., after listening to the dreadful shellacking of the Mets at the hands of the Yankees on the radio and cleaning out approximately 250 pounds of mouse turds from the summer camp — activities that seemed well-matched.

As to the quote, I was armed with:

One pontoon boat, allegedly portable.

Two fly rods, both fairly cheap (under $150).

Two fly reels, one expensive, one not.

Assorted lines, leaders, tippet material.

Flies. Dozens of ’em, in boxes, film cannisters and bits of envelopes.

Chest pack, hat, flippers, super-duper fishing clothing, assorted doo-dads.

Sunscreen, seltzer, small radio to listen to “The Underground Garage� if I was still out at 8 p.m.

Total: About a grand’s worth of stuff.

Now let us consider the first two fish of the evening: perch.

I could not find a statement, definitive or speculative, of the size of a perch’s brain. But I did find this, from Howard Hagerman:

“The olfactory nerves are paired and pass posteriorly to the olfactory bulb.  Behind the olfactory bulb is an enlargement of the brain called the telencephalon.   Next is a bi-lobed brain structure that on its ventral side receives the impulses of sight; these are called the optic lobes (tecta).  Notice their size compared with the rest of the brain. It is obvious the emphasis that the fish places on sight and smell from the amount of nervous tissue set aside for these sensory functions.

“The fish possesses 10 cranial nerves (some authorities say 11) which receive sensory signals and pass them to the brain for clearing, interpretation and action as is needed for the organism’s well-being (or perceived well-being).�

Right.

Looking at the accompanying illustration, and remembering the 5 inches of finny fury I caught at approximately 5:12 p.m. on a Muddler Minnow, I would guess the brain of the perch is bigger than O’Neil’s breadcrumb, possibly moving up in class to the crouton division.

And the 10 (or 11) cranial nerves must really go into overdrive, because these little fish give an initial tug and dive that makes the angler, whose brain is nothing to brag about, believe he has something grander on the hook.

Later on, as it got chilly and the thrill of the perch waned, I tied on a big, heavy saltwater streamer, about three-quarters the size of the first perch.

Working this as low as possible, I got one really nice largemouth bass, which surfaced, jumped, spat out the fly and waved “so long.�

Later I landed another, smaller bass — the first really decent one of the season.

His sensory signals obviously were on the fritz, or his clearing and interpretation skills were rusty after a long winter and a slow spring, because he perceived his well-being as including eating my streamer.