Shameless Shark Click Bate

On the third day, the wind finally subsided, and we set out for the reef again. The fish were just as active as before, glowing red arcs separating themselves from the jagged contours of the ocean floor.

This time we were able to anchor on the first try. We tied our chum bag so tightly to the cleat we'd probably have to cut it off later, set up our rigs, and it was on. In a matter of minutes we'd landed it dinner, two mangrove snapper and beautiful orange flecked mutton snapper. 

"Thank you buddy," said Ben, as he put a blade through their brains. Most fisherman take out the hook and throw the fish into the cooler to slowly sofocate, causing the fish unnecessary suffering and degrading the quality of meat.  

He'd just finished gutting the snapper over the side when I got a big tug on my line. It pulled so hard I was afraid I'd lose it so I handed the rod to Ben. As he reeled it closer to the boat we saw the long, sinuous body thrashing under the water, and a giant bulbous head.

"Oh my god, its a baby hammerhead!" I said. "I didn't even know they had them here!"

"Quick, look it up! Can we keep it?"

I grabbed the fishing guide, but it had been left out when the boat got swamped and the pages were water-stained and stuck together. Ben reeled in the shark as slowly as he could while I identified it with Google lens - a female Bonnethead shark, a plentiful and docile species plentiful in Florida waters. Opinions were divided on the quality of its meat, but Ben is always up for a strange ingredient challenge, so we decided to keep her.

I feel there is a certain sacred alchemy to killing for food, of transmuting one form of life to another.

She was beautiful; about two feet long, soft and limpid, bearing a haute couture cartilage headdress. Having been involved in taking her life only heightened my feeling of wonder and respect. Maybe it's just an evolutionary defense mechanism to justify the cruelty, but I feel there is a certain sacred alchemy to killing for food, transmuting one form of life to another. In this era of over abundant, prepackaged food and spiraling health outcomes, we are relearning that we are what we eat. Holding our still twitching prey in our hands, we are not only taking responsibility for the animal's life, but our own.

Ben cut the shark into long, pink filets and pan fried it on the camper stove. I'd never tasted shark before, and I found it comparable to other white fish, although not as tender and flaky as the snapper we caught. 

There was just enough wind to keep the no see 'ums at bay while we ate our catch and watched the sun sink like a beating heart over the swamp.