Another Fish Sighting at Herrontown Woods: Creek Chubs

This post about aquatic life in Princeton begins with a hawk. Spotted by volunteer Mariah on April 4, about 100 feet downstream of the red trail's stream crossing at Herrontown Woods, it was not soaring or perching on a branch as hawks typically would, but instead was standing very still on the ground at the edge of the stream, peering into the water. 

What was it looking for? My thoughts immediately went to the day we were startled by the thrashing of several foot-long fish as we crossed the stream on that very trail on that very day one year prior. Might predators know its time for the spring migration of fish up into Herrontown Woods to spawn?

Whether due to lack of serendipitous timing, or lower water levels, we saw no return of the foot-long white suckers this year, but yesterday a visitor to the woods named Brian told me he had seen fish down at the stream. 

I went down to have a look, and this is what I found, about six inches long. I tried my best to take some photos before releasing it back into the cool, clear waters that flow from the headwaters preserved within Herrontown Woods. 

Its mouth didn't look as downturned as those on the white suckers we saw last year. What could it be?

Those horny bumps on the head and some internet research led to creek chubs (Semotilus atromaculatus). The bumps are called tubercles, found only on the males during mating season. One cool thing about chubs in general is that the males build nests made of stone, then entice a female to lay her eggs there. The nests can be quite elaborate, and are so well guarded by the male that females of other fish species may take advantage of the free security by laying their eggs there as well.

Googling horns on the head, I had initially encountered a related fish called the hornyhead chub. Who knew that Newborn, Georgia hosts a Hornyhead Fish Festival each year. My respect for the fish, and chubs in general, grew as I read this fascinating account of the male hornyhead's nest building expertise, assembling surprisingly large rocks from the streambed into elaborate structures to protect the eggs.

Such testimonials stir memories of the round depressions sunfish would make in the shallow waters of the lake near Hayward, Wisconsin where my family would journey each spring to set up the tents for a Girlscout camp. It may also be worth taking a closer look in local streams for circular stone structures fashioned by creek chubs.