Anyone who has heard the old saying “slippery as an eel”, but never actually handled an eel, can not appreciate then just how slippery something would have to be to match this elongated fish. Trust me when I tell you that an eel is nearly impossible to grasp with your bare hands. Having caught dozens of these slimy denizens, I can safely say that nothing here in the freshwater of Connecticut can match, pound for pound, the fight an eel gives you on a spinning rod. And once you have landed an eel, the fun is just beginning.
Fishing for eels in Connecticut is done at night, as they are nocturnal feeders. They frequent virtually every river and stream in the state, and many lakes that these waterways dump into. I have only caught one eel during full daylight hours, and that fellow came, quite unexpectedly, through the ice at Moosup Pond in Plainfield some years ago. Needless to say, I was very surprised when I pulled up my line and had an eel staring back at me. Usually, I do my eel fishing in the local river, the Quinebaug, which begins in lower Massachusetts and empties into another river south of my location. It is shallow enough in the hot summer months to wade safely into, and my friends and I often don an old pair of sneakers and go right in to fish. The water is seldom even waist high in most places, and I have fished in the Quinebaug enough on the Plainfield-Canterbury line that I could undoubtedly draw a detailed map of the two mile stretch that I have most often frequented.
My introduction to eel fishing was quite by accident. As a matter of fact, most eels are caught by fisherman targeting other species. While fishing in the Quinebaug for catfish at dusk one late spring day, I got a bite and set the hook. The ensuing battle on the other end of the line convinced me I had the mother of all catfish hooked, or perhaps a huge bass. When I was finally able to reel in my line, an eel, perhaps two feet long, was on the other end and I was about to learn the definition of slippery and strong both at once. Eels are covered with a coat of slime that protects them from disease; this slimy coat also makes them as hard to grip as a chin-up bar covered with grease. Their muscular build enables them to slide right out of your hands, and they have a habit of wrapping around your arms, leaving the slime all over anything they touch. Ill equipped to handle the first eel I caught, I was more than happy when he finally freed himself and took off.
Eels are catadromous fish, meaning that when they reach maturity, they leave the fresh water to go out to sea to spawn, after which they die. The young somehow float on ocean currents as they mature and head up rivers and streams up and down the East Coast to begin the cycle all over again. Eels hunt with an acute sense of smell, and can be taken on a variety of baits, but all my friends and I use are simple night crawlers. We will spend a few hours before dark fishing for other species, but as twilight approaches, we will build a fire on the riverbank and wait for eel action. Flashlights come in handy, as do the type of lights that can be worn on your head like a miner’s lamp, allowing you to keep your hands free. Using spinning rods with a number four snelled hook and at least a pair of split shots attached about eighteen inches up the line, we will put a night crawler on and cast out into the water for eels. The split shots send the line to the bottom and keep it in place in the slow moving currents, perfectly placed for the eels to find.
Once it is dark, the eels come out in force. Catfish as well are feeding, but the difference in their taking the bait is pronounced. The catfish will swallow it up quickly, but the eel’s bite will be more of a “thump, thump”. Two or three times you will feel the bait getting hit, and when you set the hook and have an eel on, there will be no doubt as to what you have gotten yourself into. I can best describe the initial stages of playing an eel as equivalent to trying to pull in a five gallon bucket through the water. The eel strains and thrashes for a number of seconds before you start to make any headway against it. Finally you will begin reeling the eel in, as he causes enough commotion in the water for five normal fish. When you get him to shore, hope that you have remembered to bring an old towel or a burlap bag, because that is the best way to grasp the eel. Many fisherman have told me to rub the eel in the sand, but that will harm the eel’s slimy coat and is not acceptable to me, as I want to return the eel to the water. A team effort is needed to make things easier for yourself and the eel. Have someone else help you to hold the eel with the aid of the towel or burlap, and unhook them. Most of the time the hook is able to be removed from the eel’s mouth; if it cannot be safely removed without harming the eel I will cut the line and return the eel to the water. I do not know many fishermen who enjoy trying to get the hook out of an eel’s mouth, but I have never been bitten. Their snakelike appearance does not put me off, and I find the eel is always happy to part ways with its new found friends.
As the summer turns to autumn, and the water temperatures chill, the eels become less and less active until they finally hibernate for the winter by burrowing into the muddy river bottoms. I could not explain how I caught the lone eel ice fishing, and I have never met another ice fisherman who has caught an eel. Like most of my best catches, I had no witnesses for that singular event. Eels are supposed to be very tasty, but I will never know. My older brother has told me of how my grandfather would bring an eel home and my grandmother would cook it up in a frying pan, but if I did the same to my lovely wife, I am sure the frying pan would be put to another use. No matter, as just catching, and then unhooking a slippery eel, is more than enough fun for my friends and I on a hot summer night.
