Snag

| I was 302 miles from Wall Drug |

As a fisherman, the word "snag" doesn't carry a positive connotation. Usually used to describe a lure-losing and mood-ruining situation, a snag is something to be avoided. The riverside remnants of old braided lines and rusting hooks act as memorials of snags that couldn't be undone.

There is a season, however, where definitions change. Each year, hopeful anglers stand shoulder to shoulder on the rocky banks of rivers across the country, hoping to snag a fish species some 125 million years old. The paddlefish. 

My first interaction with paddlefish came on an out-of-state excursion in 2013. My father took me to Glendive, Montana, on what would be one of the more memorable fishing trips I experienced in my youth. We purchased tags in a colorful local establishment named The Beer Jug. The interior decoration was exactly as you'd imagine, and a trophy paddlefish mount hung behind the bar. Despite the Beer Jugs other offerings, over-the-counter paddlefish tags were all we purchased.

Flows were historically high in the Yellowstone River that year, and the fish I caught used the strong river current to its advantage. The raw power of the fish and the added strength of the roaring river made for an adrenaline rush I vowed to chase again. It would be over 10 years before I got the chance to re-join the ranks of paddlefish snaggers, this time on the banks of the Mighty Mo in Yankton, South Dakota.

South Dakota Snaggin’

 

On opening morning of the South Dakota season, I made a pit stop at Captain Norm's gas station on my way to Gavins Point Dam. Like many gas stations near the river, Norms doubles as a bait and tackle shop. Trays of large lead weights, treble hooks, and racks of 10' rods lined the wall. The neon signs out front transitioned between words of fishing encouragement and current gas prices. The same signs would soon act as paddlefish scoreboards, showcasing the largest fish checked in throughout the season. After picking up a few final snagging essentials and a particularly strong cup of black coffee, I followed a long convoy of headlights down to the river.

Fisherman can snag from 7:00 am to 7:00 pm during the month of October, with many anglers saving their preferred casting spot on shore hours before legal fishing begins. Anglers utilizing boats will slowly move upriver through the morning fog, hoping to gain an advantage over their land-locked competitors. I've seen near fist fights break out, as fishermen from the banks fire warning shots in the form of 5 oz lead weights towards boats that venture too close to shore. Tensions run high in the pursuit of paddlefish.

I was fortunate to slip into an open section of shoreline near the dam, in an area recommended to me by more seasoned snaggers. I had outfitted myself with a 9' Penn rod with a 6000 series reel. The 60 lb. braided line lifted effortlessly when propelled by such a long lever and heavy lead weight. As the clock hit 7:00 am, I quickly joined the rhythmic sweeping of rods, hoping to run into a South Dakota spoonbill.

It's easy to let your mind wander in the almost hypnotic and repetitive activity of snagging. When I did finally connect, it happened so close to shore that I thought I'd hit rock bottom. As I set the hook, the fish took off to faster water, causing my reel to scream in protest. Neighboring anglers stopped to watch with a mixture of envy and excitement, withdrawing their lines from the water to avoid an untimely tangling of lines.

An angler downstream graciously offered to be my paddlefish wrangler, and I let the current slowly drift the fish toward his open arms. You don't realize how physically exerting it can be to catch a fish of this size until you let yourself relax after seeing it brought safely to shore. It is truly one of the more unique full-body workouts I've encountered as an outdoorsman.

Even after successfully snagging a fish, you’re not guaranteed the opportunity to take it home. The South Dakota Game Fish and Parks closely monitors the health and vitality of paddlefish, and as such, has a strictly enforced slot limit. Paddlefish are measured from the eye to the fork of the tail, and a fish that falls between 35" – 45" must be returned safely to the water. The fish I caught was a healthy 43", and by law, had to be released to swim another day.

As the morning continued, the excitement of opening day faded from the shoreline. In the five hours I spent on the banks that day, I saw only a scarce handful of other fish caught. The slow opening morning would be a foreshadowing of the season to come.

Beauty in the Struggle

Throughout the month of October, I spoke with a variety of fishing guides and long-time snaggers who all reported the 2023 season as one of the slowest and most difficult in memory. Guides who are typically putting their clients on a dozen or more paddlefish throughout the course of a day had seen consecutive days without a single fish. Consistent with the experience of many this year, it took me 30 additional hours of fishing to hook another paddlefish. In true buzzer-beater fashion, I snagged a legal fish in the last 10 minutes of light on the last day of the season. A moment of triumph after a long season of struggle. Mine is just one of many testimonies highlighting the same message this year: it wasn't an easy snagging season in South Dakota.

As fishermen, we can be quick to look for things to blame when success doesn't come easy. You could blame the two open spillway gates at Gavins Point Dam, not having the ideal shoreline position to cast from, faulty equipment and snagging technique, or just plain bad luck. These were all thoughts that crossed my mind during the doldrums of the season. If you spin the narrative, however, perhaps the 2023 season is a good reminder that there is beauty in the struggle. This year, I saw the snagging season from its first moments to its last, I saw the wonder in a young boy's face as he fought and landed a paddlefish bigger than he was, I saw countless sunsets in a changing fall landscape, and I saw God's creative design throughout it all. Tagging out early would have robbed me of these beautiful scenes. 

There were plenty of lure-losing and mood-ruining moments during the struggle of this season, but there was also the opportunity for prayerful peace along the river. Rain or shine, I look forward to joining the file and rank fishermen in South Dakota's snagging seasons for years to come.