Fishing with Stingrays

I rose early, well before daylight, so I could be at the drop off just at sunrise. The tide & solunar tables suggested that would be the optimum time that day in 1988. It was a calm May morning on Corpus Christi bay as I drove over Kennedy causeway on my way to highway 361 and the backside of Mustang island. I was going to fish one of my favorite wading spots "dead man's hole", a large cove-like area of skinny water over a firm sandy bottom with occasional potholes and lots of grassy spots. In my experience the area was well populated with keeper size trout, big reds, and flounder. I also knew how well the stingarees liked that sandy bottom and was an inveterate shuffler, fishing only in shorts and sneakers.

It was still dark when I arrived at the end of the sandy trail in my Chevy truck. In the peace of that early morning I readied my bait casting rig, made sure I had my stringer and began the quarter-mile or so wade out to my favorite spot to stand and cast soft plastic lures into the belly deep water. On my way the pink-orange light of dawn cracked the horizon to my right as I shuffled noisily through the black, opaque water. By the time I got to my spot and made my first cast the sun had appeared over the island and begun to reveal the beauty God has made for us, in the bay named to remind us of his sacrifice. The mildly cool water was still dark and there was not yet sufficient light to see the bottom. I continued casting with no more success than an occasional bump-bump-bump from little or hesitant fish.

As the sun lept up from the island the light penetrated farther and farther into the clear green water. With each small increase in light I studied the water around me for indications that might help put me on fish. First, only the top foot or so was visible and I could see the water was clear with occasional bits of broken grass floating through it. Then, with only another foot or so visible the light gave way to darkness and for all my eyes told me the water looked the same as that in the middle of a deep lake. If not for my feet planted firmly on the sandy bottom my senses suggested a limitless deep. It was wonderful to be out so early on such a beautiful morning. The minor strain on the insteps of my feet from standing in sand covered with moving water began to send its annoying message so I wiggled and stamped my feet to reposition them and gain a bit more support.

I surveyed the watery horizon, where from my vantage point all I could see was water to the southwest through the northeast, the sun continued its reliable climb to my right and slightly behind me. Small, brilliantly white clouds developed low in the sky and the occasional shore bird flew by in search of breakfast I supposed. Finally, the light was sufficient for me to do a good survey of the bottom around me for grass, or blue crabs, or any indications of whether I should seek a more productive spot to stand and cast. As I gazed on the bottom I began to make out the subtle variations, rises and falls, in the sand; interrupted by only the tiniest stands of short sea grass. Closely examining that sand I first made our one pair of small gold and black eyes, then another near by, then others, then dozens of others, then as far as I could see surrounding me in the clear bay waters the gold and black eyes of a large school of stingrays, all about ten to twelve inches across and all buried in the sand up to their eyes.

After the initial wave of adrenalin charged panic washed through me, and I overcame the instinctive biological demand that I jump straight up and run away, I could hear the voice of reason firmly warning me to stay calm and not move in any way that could upset the rays. As seconds grew into minutes I gradually regained my composure and the capacity to use my limited reasoning abilities. With that I realized that in the dark I had either waded into their bedroom, or they had come and went to bed around me. That meant that I had been so successful with my shuffle and foot-strain relief movements that I had not incited a strike. Alone there a quarter mile from shore on the back side of the island in about four feet of water on a rising tide, a strike could have had devastating consequences. The only cell phone available in those days came in a big bag and only a very few had them. I did not have a VHF radio and was not aware of any that would hold a charge for more than an hour or so, or small and waterproof enough to carry in a fishing shirt pocket.

As I stood there and considered my position I decided the best thing to do was to keep fishing. The spot was a good one based on my experience, and I had been safe there for more than 30 to 40 minutes. If I was lucky the rays would move on with the rising tide and I could shuffle away safely. If I was not, when it got to be time to leave I had the assurance that I had existed with them and perhaps successfully shuffled into them earlier so I would have a good chance of getting out without a strike. Over the next hour or so I fished and watched the stingray school. From time to time reflecting light would make the bottom invisible for a little while. When I could see it I saw an occasional ray shake out of the sand and swim away, or another one come settle in with the school. I picked up a good sized flounder, about 18 inches, so I had something to keep my mind off the rays.

As the morning wore along I thought less and less about them and more about the fish I might catch. As the sun moved higher overhead and the clouds grew larger and gray-bottomed the reflection more and more made the water hard to see through. When it came time that I had to move back to shore my attention returned to the rays. I began taking advantage of every time the bottom was visible to scour for signs of them, hoping to find small gaps that would give me a path out. Much to my relief, with each opportunity to look I saw no rays, no eyes, no sign of the school only the smooth sandy bottom and an occasional blue crab moving along it. Once convinced the area was clear of rays I began a very careful and deliberate shuffle to the shoreline. Words cannot express the relief I felt as I moved into the shallow waters and could clearly make out everything on the bottom.

There are so many amazing, terrifying, and wonderful things about the bays, gulfs, prairies, mountains, deserts and the creatures that populate them. Wondering about our place in this world and how all those before us successfully navigated through creation, and how I had that morning, still keeps me occupied.