Down to crumbs

When you can count the individual whitebait, the fritters need a little bulking up. Photo / Geoff Thomas

Went whitebaiting the other day and got 18," said a friend from Christchurch.

"That's pretty good - 18 pounds!" They still measure whitebait catches in pounds, one of which is about half a kilo. "No, 18 whitebait."

Uh, oh. That's not so good. When you can count the individual fish it makes for a lean fritter. You need a lot of flour and extra eggs to make it work.

The basic recipe is sufficient beaten eggs to bind the little dudes together and that's all. Add a dash of seasoning, then pan-fry in oil and butter. Deliver a squirt of lemon juice and serve on slices of buttered bread if you have to make the fritters go further.

We had a handful swimming around in a plastic icecream container once while camping at Thornton, at the mouth of the Rangitaiki River, just north of Whakatane. It is one of the premier whitebaiting rivers in the Bay of Plenty. But never when we were there. Isn't it funny how you always hear of the big catches but not the days spent waiting, watching the white board for the telltale shadows to appear? It's a bit like backing the horses. You only hear about the wins.

Back to Thornton. The kids were excited at our dozen whitebait which looked very lonely.

That is until the family Labrador, Bonny, worked up a thirst and decided the fish bucket was her bowl. Fair enough, that's what she has at home. End of whitebait.

But 'bait fever is almost done for another year, and it has been slim pickings for much of the country.

Like the fever in gold prospecting, whitebaiting brings out a certain attitude in people. They are very protective about their spots, actually called stands, which can change hands for considerable sums, and canny when it comes to discussing catches. But like all big winners, it is hard to conceal the delight when the jackpot is struck.

The whitebaiting culture is contrary to all other fishing. Many people live on the riverside in cabins and baches and caravans for the whole season, and some make a reasonable income. The regulations are set and administered by the Department of Conservation, presumably because it involves native fish. But outside of the season and certain netting restrictions, it is wide open to amateur commercialism. There is no quota. Anybody can catch whitebait, and sell them on the side of the road. Of course there are legitimate buyers, but there is no limit on volumes and much of the trade involves cash, which must have the IRD thinking about the ramifications.

Theories abound for the lack of 'bait running this year. Some say the tides were not big enough to hatch the eggs, which displays a certain understanding of the biology involved. That in itself is unusual, for the life story of the little fish is unique. They don't run up the rivers to spawn, as is commonly argued. In fact, it is the reverse.