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.

What we know as whitebait are the young of five members of the native galaxiid family - inanga (the most common), banded kokopu, koaro, giant kokopu and short-jawed kokopu. Smelt are often found with them and are the larger, silver, cucumber-smelling fish which aficionados discard.

Apart from smelt, the adults are secretive fish which are rarely seen and live in swamps and fast-flowing streams and rivers. But they need the natural habitat and the clearing of bush from catchments has contributed much to the demise of whitebait fisheries. This is why the South Island's West Coast is the premier whitebait region as much of the original bush and forest still remains.

The adult fish migrate downstream in autumn to lay their eggs on streamside grasses on a high tide and the eggs are exposed until the next spring tide a month later when they are inundated, hatch and are swept out to sea. The tiny hatchlings grow quickly in the rich marine environment where many are eaten by birds and other fish, then in late winter the juvenile fish migrate back up the rivers and streams as the whitebait we know so well.

Protection of the streamside habitat is important for the future of the unique little fish and landowners are encouraged to fence off river banks and keep stock out of the sensitive areas. Planting native bush around swamps and streams helps and many farmers are now aware of the value of such programmes.

In the Raglan area, the catchment of a popular whitebait stream has been fenced and replanted, with resulting increased runs of fish.

Of course, not everybody can catch their own whitebait and rely on fish shops where the price creeps higher every year, topping $180 a kilo in some outlets recently.

But buyer beware: whitebait is a generic term which is also applied to the young of various saltwater fishes, and whitebait imported from other countries and sold under the familiar name has no resemblance in taste or appearance to what is regarded as real whitebait. If unsure about the origin of the prospective dinner in the shop window, the price is the best indicator.

We learned a new recipe the other day in Mokau, home of whitebait on the North Island's west coast. Don't put flour in the mix; it goes gluggy. If you want to bulk it up a bit use a spoonful of breadcrumbs instead. I also like chopped parsley in my fritters, and from now on if I can count the whitebait in the bowl I will add some crumbs to the eggs.

Whitebait season

Fishing is permitted between 5am and 8pm, or 6am and 9pm when daylight saving applies.

The season runs from August 15 to November 30, except for the West Coast of the South Island where it is September 1 to November 14.

On the Chatham Islands, the season goes from December 1 to February 28.