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Fishing for radium
By BILL COATS © St. Petersburg Times, published November 24, 2000 LUTZ -- In only 20 minutes of fishing, Kristin Henry and Mike Allen had pulled 205 fish from Deer Lake.
Then again, the pair were using an exclusive weapon that would be seriously illegal in the hands of most any other anglers: 5 amps of electricity. A generator churned as their boat slowly glided along Deer Lake's shore. Electricity flowed off the johnboat's bow through a fiberglass pole into a steel ring suspended over the water. From the ring, four stainless-steel cables dangled into the lake. Quickly, the water beneath the cables was dotted with the reflective silver bellies of small fish, stunned and floating upside down. Henry leaned across a padded rail and scooped through the water with a dip net. Every few moments, she turned to dump her catch into a tub of water in the floor of the boat. They lolled on their sides in the tub for several minutes. Then, one by one, they righted and began swimming there. Such super-efficient fishing occurred in the interest of science. Allen, a fisheries scientist with the University of Florida, joined five other scientists on Deer Lake last week as part of ongoing research on the presence of radium in area lakes. The scientists are trying to determine whether radium, a radioactive element that occurs naturally under Florida soil, is pumped into lakes when they are "augmented" -- refilled with water pumped from wells. Some 60 lakes and swamps in this area are augmented. So far, radium has been found even in non-augmented lakes. The only harmful levels were found in mussels, particularly in Round Lake, an augmented lake near N Dale Mabry Highway. Someone eating the mussels over a lifetime would increase their risk of cancer. Deer Lake was sampled because it isn't augmented, said Doug Leeper, the environmental scientist with the Southwest Florida Water Management District who is coordinating the study. It is upstream of its neighboring lakes, making Deer unlikely to receive water spilling from an augmented lake, Leeper said. Its results will be compared to those from augmented lakes. To sample plants, lake mud, water and mussels is easy -- you dig or dip. But fish are elusive unless they're knocked silly by electricity, a tactic that has tempted cheaters for decades. In Florida, electrofishing without a permit is a misdemeanor punishable by up to 60 days in jail and a fine up to $500. "You'd be in serious trouble if we caught you doing that," said Henry Cabbage, spokesman for Florida's Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. They caught Allen two years ago, or so they thought. Based on a tip, agents watched Allen electrofish Lake Dosson off Van Dyke Road, for the first round of studies on augmentation. "They were pretty sneaky," said Allen, 34. "They went through the woods." After the agents ordered Allen ashore, he brandished his permit and was allowed to resume. Renegade electrofishers have favored old hand-cranked telephones. They would run wires from the phones into the lake, then generate electricity by cranking. Allen said such a current is too weak to penetrate fish scales, but it worked on catfish. In contrast, his generator stunned everything within a few feet of the cables. For a person, he said, "It wouldn't kill you, but it would be painful." Near the back of the boat, however, "you'd feel a tingle." Of the 685 fish that Henry netted from Deer Lake, some 90 percent swam hurriedly away after Allen measured them and tossed them overboard. A few 1-inch bluegills died, apparently from the shock. Bigger fish also were doomed. Allen kept them so their bones and flesh can be tested for radium. "If there's going to be any radium, it's going to be in the ones that have had time to bioaccumulate over several years," Allen said. So Allen and Henry iced down a few bluegill as long as 8 inches, largemouth bass up to 19 inches, redear up to 11 inches and a feisty 22-inch Florida gar. One of the day's biggest fish was spared. "There's a monster in there," Henry said, nodding toward the writhing water of the tub after one 10-minute session. "There's a bowfish in here that would bite your leg off," boasted Allen as another boat of scientists pulled alongside the boat. He wrestled it from the tub. The 22-inch fish struggled in Allen's grip. Should it be tested for radium? Few bowfin had been caught from other lakes, making comparisons unlikely. "It's not a human-edible," observed geologist Mark Brenner, also of the University of Florida, in the next boat. "So I'd say it's a low priority." With that, the bowfin sailed from Allen's grip, and disappeared into Deer Lake with a hearty splash. -- Bill Coats can be reached at (813) 226-3469 or coats@sptimes.com.
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