During Summer's Peak, It's the Little Things That Count

Marylanders here on the flat side of the state have an expression for the best of anything. They call it the finest kind, pronounced, "foinest koind."

It's used mostly where fish, birds, crabs, oysters and other wonders of the natural world are concerned. When your neighbor stops by to tell you he had a good day crabbing, the first question you're likely to ask is, "Any size?"

"Foinest koind," is what you're itching to hear, followed, you hope, by an invitation.

Lately we've been catching the finest kind of white perch in middle portions of the Chesapeake Bay, which is not unusual for this time of year. While spring, late fall and winter are best for catching big rockfish, high summer brings an abundance of the delectable smaller creatures that lie at the heart of a good fish fry -- perch, spots and croakers.

Of the three, in this humble sportsman's opinion, nothing is more enjoyable to catch or fries up as crisp and tasty as a fresh white perch.

How abundant are they? When Mark Stevens, whose family has had a hardware store on Annapolis City Dock for generations, held his fourth annual perch fry for 100 or so guests last month at his mom's place on Spa Creek, he was overwhelmed. "People brought in about 3,000 white perch," he said. "We filleted 500 of them and couldn't even eat all those."

He wound up sending a gallon of perch filets home with one of his co-workers. A week later, the man sheepishly admitted he and his family were still working on the unexpected bonanza. "Do you know how many perch fillets there are in a gallon?" he asked.

Not that anyone was complaining. Stevens is an offshore fisherman by choice. He fishes for tuna and marlin out of Wachapreague, Va. "My buddies caught a 236-pound bluefin tuna last week and it was great eating," he said. "But it didn't have anything on white perch fillets."

I was supposed to go to the Blue Ridge last week to flyfish for trout with Bob Poole of McLean, who has a cottage on the east flank of the mountains. But he was concerned about low water levels there, or so he said, and wondered if we shouldn't flyfish for something on the bay instead.

Poole was angling to go rockfishing but rock haven't started coming to the surface to feed yet. That phenomenon occurs in the fall and is perfect for flyrodders, who prefer to fish near the surface. Perch, on the other hand, head to the shallows near shore to feed as soon as the water temperature rises, and are good targets for flyfishermen all summer long.

Poole came armed for anything, with boxes of flies and bags full of reels and spare flyline. He settled on a six-weight rod with sinking line and a fistful of Clouser minnows and silver shad flies that look like grass shrimp, a favorite perch food.

He arrived in the afternoon so we could fish that evening and again the following morning. Over the following 10 hours of fishing time, with a break in the middle to eat and sleep, we stopped the skiff at every shallow place that looked fishy, from the seawall at the U.S. Naval Academy to the pilings on the eastern side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and caught perch at every stop.