Two bills under consideration in the West Virginia House of Delegates aim to reinforce hunting and fishing access within the state. They passed a House committee with majority support, and will each be referred to a second committee for further deliberation.
On Wednesday, the West Virginia House of Delegates Committee on Agriculture and Natural Resources voiced support for two pieces of proposed legislation that would reinforce hunting and fishing rights in the state.
House Bill 4280 would grant disabled West Virginia veterans free lifetime hunting, trapping and fishing licenses through a tax credit.
Brett McMillion, director of the West Virginia Division of Natural Resources, testified during Wednesday’s committee meeting, and said passage of the bill would not necessarily increase the cost of hunting and fishing licenses for other West Virginians.
Still, MacMillian said it would be important for lawmakers to help the DNR access new sources of funding to offset costs incurred by the bill.
“We support our veterans one hundred percent,” he said. But “any time we have a reduction in our special revenue… it certainly does have an impact.”
Additionally, House Joint Resolution 8 would pose a new item on West Virginia ballots in the coming general election.
Under the resolution, citizens could vote to codify “the right to hunt, fish and harvest wildlife” in state law. The resolution stipulates that citizens must still adhere to laws on wildlife conservation and private property.
The resolution also describes hunting and fishing as a “preferred means of managing and controlling wildlife.”
Lawmakers on the committee emphasized it would be important that the resolution does not interfere with the operations of agencies like the DNR. They unanimously voted that it be referred to the House Committee on the Judiciary for discussion on the judicial implications of such a bill.
The Mud River has long served as a fishing hub for southern West Virginia. But state health officials now advise residents to limit fish consumption from one of its reservoirs.
The Mud River has long served as a fishing hub for southern West Virginia. But state health officials now advise that residents limit their consumption of fish from one of its reservoirs due to a mineral contaminant.
On Tuesday, the West Virginia Department of Health implemented a new advisory for the Upper Mud Reservoir. They recommend residents not consume largemouth bass, white crappie, bluegill and green sunfish from the reservoir more than once per week.
The advisory comes in response to heightened levels of selenium detected in the reservoir. Selenium is a naturally occurring mineral that is safe in small doses.
But regularly consuming fish overexposed to selenium can cause health issues like selenosis — a condition linked to nervous system irregularities, fatigue and hair and nail damage.
The state Department of Health said its advisory is especially important for children, women of childbearing age and frequent fish consumers, all of whom are more susceptible to the contaminant.
Fish consumption advisories are updated annually, and will be adjusted as the water conditions change. For now, health officials said spacing out meals that contain fish from the reservoir is an important safety precaution.
They say there’s a lot of fish in the sea, but there’s also an awful lot of fish in the streams and rivers of Appalachia. A new book by fisheries research scientist, and WVU professor, Stuart Welsh showcases some of the lesser-known fish in the region. Bill Lynch spoke with Welsh about his book Hornyheads, Madtoms and Darters.
They say there’s a lot of fish in the sea, but there’s also an awful lot of fish in the streams and rivers of Appalachia. A new book by fisheries research scientist, and WVU professor, Stuart Welsh showcases some of the lesser-known fish in the region. Bill Lynch spoke with Welsh about his book Hornyheads, Madtoms and Darters.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.
Lynch: Let’s talk about Hornyheads, Madtoms and Darters. Describe what a hornyhead or a madtom or a darter is.
Welsh: Yeah, so hornyhead is a name for a group of minnows. And these are minnows that the males develop these little pointed horns on their head during the spawning season.
They develop these horns, grow these horns, and they use them to spar. They compete for females during the spawning season. In some ways, it’s similar to a white-tailed deer with antlers, in that, a deer grows its antlers and then loses the antlers after their breeding season.
It’s same situation with these hornyhead minnows. They grow these bumps on their head. They use them during the breeding season, and then they’re lost afterwards. Then, they they regrow them the following year.
Lynch: Madtoms: what are they like?
Welsh: Madtoms is a name for a group of catfish.
Most people, when you hear the word catfish, you think of big fish like channel catfish, blue catfish, flathead catfish, but madtoms are a group of catfishes. They do not get very large.
Their maximum size, depending on the species, may range from three to six inches in length.
Most people don’t see them because it’s not a fish that you would often catch on a hook and line. But we have quite a few different species of madtoms in the Appalachians.
They’re very interesting little fish and certainly worth telling a story about.
One thing I wanted to do with the book was to tell stories about these small fish. So, people can maybe understand them and get to know them a little bit better.
Lynch: You’re an ichthyologist? Is that correct?
Welsh: That’s correct.
Lynch: When, where, how did you first start taking an interest in fish?
Welsh: I think it was when I was a young kid, you know?
I really enjoyed fishing. And so, I spent a lot of time in creeks and, not necessarily fishing all the time, but flipping rocks and looking for crayfish, aquatic salamanders, and various critters.
I think that focus at an early age kind of sparked my interest. And I was able to keep it going into a career
Lynch: Kicking over rocks and fishing is one thing but academic study is something else. What kind of path is that?
Welsh: Well, it’s a long tedious path, I guess you would say. It requires a lot of graduate work. I got a B.S, degree at West Virginia University and then I went on to get a master’s degree at Frostburg State in fisheries management. And then I came back to West Virginia University for my Ph.D. where I was focused on fisheries work.
Lynch: How diverse is the fish population in central Appalachia?
Welsh: We have a lot of different kinds of fish.
For example, in West Virginia alone, which is certainly the heart of central Appalachia, we have a lot of species – 195.
So, there’s a lot of different kinds of fishes we have. And most people are familiar with the common ones, especially ones that you catch on rod and reel, but the smaller ones, a lot of people don’t know about them very much.
So, I think that’s one of the opportunities for a book like this is to provide information about this fish: to let people learn a little bit more about them.
Lynch: Talk about the book and putting it together.
Welsh: It’s a collection of stories on central Appalachian fishes.
There are stories on some familiar fish – like the native brook trout, the smallmouth bass, the bluegill sunfish. But then there’s also several stories on fishes that people know less about, such as in the title – hornyheads, madtoms and darters.
Also, there’s some fishes that are unusual that are discussed, like, for example, the lampreys, which are a group of fishes that are pretty small, but they have kind of an eel like body. Then you’ve got a fish called the trout perch that I talked about, which is really fascinating little fish of central Appalachia.
Lynch: How did you narrow down which fish you wanted to deal with?
Welsh: Yeah, that was a challenge because I find all the fishes that we have to be fascinating and interesting and worthy of a story.
But I tried to just focus on some of the fishes that I thought would make the most interesting stories, because what I wanted to do was to write stories that would be both educational but also interesting for a wide audience.
And so, I tried to select fishes that had an interesting story to be told often that was related to a certain type of behavior or maye a certain type of feeding strategy, a certain type of spawning strategy.
It was typically some aspect of that fish that I thought was interesting that I emphasized in the story.
Lynch: What do you hope an average reader takes away from your book?
Welsh: What I would hope is that people would realize central Appalachia has a diversity of fishes. That there’s a lot to be learned. You know, often when you know more about something, you care about it. My hope, in the end, is that this book will increase the conservation of fishes in the central Appalachians by making people more aware of the diversity that we have.
Lynch: The book is called Hornyheads, Madtoms and Darters. Stuart Welsh, thank you very much.
Welsh: Thank you. I appreciate it.
A male candy darter. One of the fish featured in the book “Hornyheads, Madtoms, and Darters”
“Hornyheads, Madtoms and Darters,” from Ohio University Press is available in bookstores.
On this West Virginia Morning, advances to the pastime of fishing include new reels, lures, and gadgets to help you catch fish. But some people prefer the old-fashioned way, which isn’t always simple. Folkways Reporter Zack Harold visits the Elk River where a West Virginia fly rod maker explains his skill.
On this West Virginia Morning, advances to the pastime of fishing include new reels, lures, and gadgets to help you catch fish. But some people prefer the old-fashioned way, which isn’t always simple. Folkways Reporter Zack Harold visits the Elk River where a West Virginia fly rod maker explains his skill.
West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting which is solely responsible for its content.
Support for our news bureaus comes from Concord University and Shepherd University.
Caroline MacGregor is our assistant news director and produced this episode.
Teresa Wills is our host.
Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning
When Lee Orr goes fly fishing, he doesn’t haul his rod in one of those racks on the front bumper of his pickup. He doesn’t wedge it into the back seat. He doesn’t throw it in the bed to rattle around with his tackle box and cooler. Orr keeps his fishing rods in a hard plastic case.
This story originally aired in the July 2, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.
When Lee Orr goes fly fishing, he doesn’t haul his rod in one of those racks on the front bumper of his pickup. He doesn’t wedge it into the back seat. He doesn’t throw it in the bed to rattle around with his tackle box and cooler.
Orr keeps his fishing rods in a hard plastic case. Inside of that case, the pole is shrouded in a hand-sewn linen pouch. You understand why when he takes it out.
The two sections are made of honey-colored wood — bamboo, actually — and come together inside a delicate brass fitting. Both sections are accented with bands of red silk thread. Besides looking good, the thread holds down the rod’s hand-bent line guides. The bottom of the rod, where the reel attaches, is made from dark walnut. The handle is crafted from cork.
Lee Orr inspects one of his bamboo fishing rods.
Credit: Zack Harold/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
This isn’t just a fishing pole. It’s a work of art. It even has the artist’s signature right there on the shaft, written in black ink. Orr put it there himself.
Orr discovered fly fishing as a kid. He grew up in West Virginia but spent each August in Montana, where his dad grew up.
“A couple guys came up this little creek, up near the Wyoming border. And they were just catching fish one after the other,” Orr said. “So I told my dad I want to learn how to fly fish.”
Bamboo rods were a tougher sell for him. He had tried a few but found them heavy and unwieldy. His opinion changed at a workshop he attended.
“Somebody had a little seven-foot Orvis bamboo rod. And I cast that, and I really liked it,” Orr said. “I did some research and was shocked to find you can build these things in your basement.”
Twenty years ago, that’s exactly what he started doing. The process starts halfway around the world, in the Gulf of Tonkin. This region on the border of Vietnam and China is home to a variety of bamboo that is coveted by fishing rod makers. The walls of Tonkin cane are thick, and its fibers are both strong and flexible.
Orr’s collection of raw bamboo is his workshop.
Credit: Zack Harold/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
These culms of bamboo are cut down and loaded into shipping containers headed for the United States. They eventually find their way to basement workshops like the one Orr keeps in his Charleston, West Virginia home.
The process of turning bamboo into bamboo fly rods begins with a dull knife.
“You actually take a knife, and twist and break it apart,” Orr said. “And then you break it down into six individual strips. And then you have to work it and straighten it, get the little bumps and hooves out of it.”
Orr breaks down a culm of bamboo in his Charleston, West Virginia garage.
Credit: Zack Harold/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Once he breaks the bamboo into strips, they go into his planing form. This is a four-foot-long hunk of steel with a groove running down the middle, which holds the strips at a precise 60-degree angle.
Orr places a strip in that groove and goes to work with a wood plane. He makes pass after pass, using smaller and smaller wood planes, to shave off thin ribbons of bamboo. He keeps going until the top of the strip is flush with the top of the form.
He then repeats the process five more times: making three strips for the tip section of the rod and three for the butt section.
Orr also makes metal loops for the rod’s line guides, which he ties on with silk thread. He makes the rod’s reel seat by turning wood on a lathe. He stains and finishes the wood, and shapes the handle from cork.
“There’s still a couple pieces I don’t make, but eventually I’d like to get to the point where I make it, stem to stern, every bit of it myself,” he said. “I probably have to retire before I do that. And get a little more equipment.”
At present, it takes Orr somewhere between 60 to 80 hours to complete a rod. He’s working on rod number 135, which means he’s spent the equivalent of a year of his life, sitting at his work bench planing, wrapping, gluing and shaping. That’s probably a conservative estimate. Some rods take longer than others — and the whole process took a lot longer when he was first starting out in the early 2000s.
An up-close look at the details of one of Orr’s bamboo fly rods.
Credit: Zack Harold/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
There weren’t a lot of books on the subject and certainly no YouTube tutorials. Orr got his introduction to the craft on an email listserv. For those who weren’t on the internet back then, a listserv was like an email version of a group chat. Anytime Orr would have a question, he’d shoot out a message and someone would write back.
“Just a bunch of cranky old guys. That’s the community, but they’re really helpful about passing down information,” Orr said.
But the community wasn’t just generous with its knowledge. The planing forms Orr uses to whittle his bamboo strips were given to him by another rod maker — who filed down the steel by hand. The job probably took hundreds of hours.
When Orr was making the tool he uses to twist wire into line guides, another maker stepped in to help.
“There were plans online and I didn’t have the stuff for it,” he said. “And someone sent me the stuff — and just said ‘Hey, the next time somebody else needs something, you just pay it forward.’”
Orr has paid it forward. As the community migrated off that listserv and onto forums and Facebook groups, he’s become one of the old guys of the group — though not quite as cranky as the ones who took him under their wing.
“I found an old chunk of American chestnut in an old house that had fallen down, and got on that forum and said, ‘Hey does anybody want some American chestnut to make some reel seats?’” he said. “I wound up sending that stuff all over. ‘Give me the shipping and I’ll give you the wood.’”
Watch this special Inside Appalachia Folkways story below:
Orr contends it’s self-preservation. As long as there are bamboo rod makers, folks will continue to import Tonkin cane from the other side of the planet.
But talking to Orr, you get the sense that isn’t his only reason for passing down his knowledge. For one thing, he’s just a natural-born teacher.
When I tagged along as he fished the Elk River last fall, I told him I just wanted to observe. Orr couldn’t help himself. Although I didn’t even have a rod, I still got a beginner’s class in fly casting. Don’t throw it over your head, he hollered at me over the sound of the water, throw your line out to the side.
“You wouldn’t throw a baseball like that,” he said. “The motion is just exactly the same as throwing a baseball.”
Lee Orr fishes the Elk River in fall 2022.
Credit: Zack Harold/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Orr also shares his knowledge because he wants to preserve what his old-school rods represent: a link to a time when you put your catch in a wicker creel instead of a Yeti cooler. A time before sportsmen traded in their fedoras for baseball caps and canvas canoes for fiberglass bass boats.
“If I just wanted to go catch fish, I would fish a carbon rod and I’d fish live bait. And I’d catch more fish,” he admits.
All that stuff is readily available at any well-stocked Walmart. It’s fairly cheap. Orr says it would work “just fine.”
“But there’s a lot of things that are ‘just fine’ that lack a little bit of soul,” he said.
To see Lee’s rods, or place an order for one, visit 304rodcompany.com.
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This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia and the Folklife Program of the West Virginia Humanities Council.
The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.
This week on Inside Appalachia, we meet a craftsman who builds exquisite, handmade fly rods and shares his love of fishing with others. We also talk about Appalachia’s nurse shortage, and we hear stories about Appalachian baseball.
This week, we meet a craftsman who builds exquisite, handmade fly rods and shares his love of fishing with others.
We also talk about Appalachia’s nurse shortage. Experts say tackling racism could help attract and keep more nurses.
We also hear stories about Appalachian baseball and listen to the story of how a minor league team in Tennessee traded its shortstop — for a turkey.
You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.
The path from making the fly fishing rod to using it is long, but still ends in the river.
Credit: Zack Harold/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Fly fishermen are a different breed. There’s plenty of newfangled fishing gear out there, but some folks prefer to fish with hand-made rods made with traditional materials.
Folkways Reporter Zack Harold takes us along on a trip to the Elk River to learn more.
Nursing Crisis In Kentucky
Health care access is still a major problem in our region. Along with a lack of facilities, there’s a growing need for more nurses — especially nurses who are people of color.
WFPL’s Morgan Watkins reports.
Reviewing The Story Of West Virginia’s Statehood
Mason Adams hears more about West Virginia’s split from Virginia, which was more complex than choosing to stay with the union.
Courtesy
If you live in and around West Virginia, you’ve probably heard the history of how the state split off from Virginia. But if your history classes didn’t get into it, or if you don’t remember the finer points, West Virginia University (WVU) history professor Hal Gorby explains what people get wrong about the creation of West Virginia.
Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams spoke with Gorby.
Baseball Lore In Appalachia
“Tales from the Dugout: 1001 Humorous, Inspirational & Wild Anecdotes from Minor League Baseball” explores some of the stories of the minor leagues.
Courtesy
Minor league baseball is back. Through early fall, there’s almost always a game happening somewhere. Veteran minor league baseball announcer Tim Hagerty is the author of “Tales from the Dugout: 1,001 Humorous, Inspirational & Wild Anecdotes from Minor League Baseball.”
Bill Lynch spoke with Hagerty about minor league ball and some of Appalachia’s best baseball lore.
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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by Tyler Childers, Erik Vincent Huey, Jeff Ellis, and Alabama.
Bill Lynch is our producer. Zander Aloi is our associate producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens.
You can send us an email: InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.
