A Catfish’s Journey to the Dinner Plate

I pulled up to the Big Blue River at dusk. It was a hot Kansas summer night. I had fishing rods in hand. Drinks and worms filled the cooler. It was going to be a good night. I sat down in my old trusty fold up chair and cast both lines into the eddy next to the bank. One rod had a basic bobber, split shot, and j hook set up. The other had a slide weight with a circle hook on the end. Both were baited with worms. I sat back and admired the river. It wasn’t anything particularly pretty, most plains rivers aren’t, but, there was a subtle beauty. The water burbled away while an owl hooted off in the distance. Was that a coyote singing over the next hill? I thought so but couldn’t confirm. The sun had almost set when the bobber sank. I set the hook and reeled in a nice two or three pound channel catfish. That fish became four and those four became five. All of them became dinner.

A channel catfish. Photo from the USFWS

Hunters and fisherman love talking about connecting to their ancestors through the outdoors. Consume any outdoor media based here in the United States and you’ll hear on repeat that we need to preserve America’s hunting and fishing heritage. I don’t think there’s a better example than a simple fishing trip to the local river. My life in 21st-century Kansas is very different then some Native American fisherman thousands of years ago but we both sat in the same bank catching the same fish on a muggy evening. That’s one of the beautiful things about fish. They connect people together across time and space. Often times through the catching and eating of said fish.

In the channel cat’s case, they’ve been a key source of food for people in North America from the very beginning. The earliest known channel cat fossils date back approximately 20 million years ago. By the time people got to North America around 20 or so thousand years ago channels were well established in rivers and lakes in the middle of the continent. The meat is mild and tender which makes it perfect for a variety of cuisines. I don’t remember how I cooked those fish but the how doesn’t matter. I caught, cleaned, cooked, and ate them. Just like so many others before me.

Editor’s note: Thanks for the support in the first month! I opened up paid subscribtions for five bucks a month. Everything will always remain free and open to the public but wanted to give readers an option to support me monetarily. See you all in a couple of weeks for some in-depth history of catfishes!

Ancient Giants of the Missouri River

On clear, dark nights the Kansas City skyline bounces off the Missouri River. On the surface, the Big Muddy is boring. It’s not wide like the Mississippi and it’s not wild like the Yukon. Underwater is a different story. Ancient giants swim here.

A paddlefish in all its glory. Photo from the US Fish and Wildlife Service

The first time I saw a paddlefish in person I thought the fish was smiling at me. It wasn’t happy to see me. It was happily gorging on plankton just like every other paddlefish for the last 165 million years. In proper biological terms, paddlefish are filter feeders. That means they swim forward forcing water over its gills. They breathe through their gills and collect food via gill rakers. It’s an effective digestive system for microorganisms and inspired German researchers to create a potential new waste water filtration system. https://www.sciencealert.com/fish-mouth-filter-removes-99-of-microplastics-from-laundry-waste#

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These fish can grow over seven feet long and weigh about 200 pounds. The fish look like grey ships floating through the water column. For us humans, they are like a pleasant sail ship. For microorganisms, paddlefish are like aircraft carriers armed to the teeth. From above, their rostrum, the “paddle” part of paddlefish you can see in front of their faces, even looks like a runway. The rostrum helps them navigate the dark water and find food. It has millions of tiny sensors called ampullae of Lorenzini that detect electric signals from the plankton. Shovelnose Catfish as they’re sometimes called swing the rostrum around like a radar in search of the next meal.

Paddlefish swim up and down the Missouri drawing attention like carriers on the open ocean. The river was always big and slow-flowing. It was notorious with sailors in the 19th century for being different every single day. It was as inconsistently consistent as the weather in Kansas City. That river was perfect for paddlefish. The silty water was loaded with food. Paddlefish had all the tasty plankton (the freshwater kind not the krabbie patty stealing kind).

The Mighty Mo has significantly changed over the millennia but paddlefish don’t care. They can be neighbors with us and the Sinclaires. Spoonbills are witnesses to every stage of the Missouri River’s eras. From its humble origins carrying water from the baby Rocky Mountains to the ocean to the 21st-century these fish have seen it all. They dodged other fish, people, and the occasional bison to be here today. A paddlefish won’t even blink at a soccer ball falling from the sky.