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Take a Picture, It Will Last Longer… But Will the Fish?

As a young boy, my father took me bait fishing, and I believed that if you caught a “keeper,” you took it home—hence the name. Ironically, that 9-inch rainbow trout, carefully cleaned and wrapped, would often sit in the freezer for months, only to be thrown away during a fridge cleanout.

In my teens, I wasted fewer of these “fishsicles” as I became interested in cooking. I would defrost a frozen fish in the microwave, add lemon and a chaotic concoction of herbs and spices that probably should never be used on fish, and fry it up. I don’t remember ever eating the bones clean of the overcooked meat, and a considerable amount was scraped off the plate into the trash.

I recognize now, as an adult, that I was brought up viewing life through a lens of scarcity. We were probably lower middle-class—living in a small house on a 4-acre farm, with plenty of animals and a large garden that kept our food bills down. Fishing and hunting were cultural hand-me-downs from the struggling post-Depression generations who had to fish or hunt to bring food home to eat. Certainly, in my rural teenage years, I hunted quail, pheasant, and duck, and fished and ate quite a bit of steelhead, salmon, and freshwater perch. A bounty that likely pushed those small trout deeper into the corner of the freezer.

Jumping to the present, I’ve been practicing tenkara for nearly 14 years. In my earlier days, I would occasionally keep a trout to eat, I did get better at cooking them. Each time I prepared one, it was a mindful, almost ceremonial experience. However, it’s been years now since I last kept a trout, as I’ve focused more on quickly returning fish to the water. Like many new anglers, I initially made the common mistake of not handling fish properly—an important skill that is still not taught effectively or quickly enough to beginners.

You don’t have to take pictures of every trout you catch. Save your pixels and a fish’s life by only photographing the special ones.

Today, we can all recognize the benefits of catch and release as being a better practice than harvesting. Now, we crouch next to the water, gently holding the fish and taking that picture to admire the details later. In my first years, I photographed so many fish. As I look at the photos on my cloud, I cringe at the numbers, many not being that special at all, and I feel a similar disappointment to throwing out those wasted frozen trout.

I have cut way back on needing to photograph every fish for social media as “proof of my success.” I am content to limit myself to the fishing moments that truly deserve to be remembered. This year, I have imposed a personal rule of only taking pictures of certain fish—usually around three but never more than four per outing. Not all my fish even make it to the shore, and that’s okay.


Here are my criteria for taking a picture. You can use these guidelines or set your own.

Fish that are uniquely beautiful or are new to my species caught list

We should all marvel at the beauty of the fish we catch. Take that short amount of time to be in the moment with the fish that come into our presence. I really enjoy the patterns and colors of brook trout. They are my favorite fish to catch, and I am always amazed at their beauty and variations.

In addition to beauty, I include fish that are new to me. Last year, I caught my first grayling, and I still hope to someday catch my first golden trout.

My favorite species never fails to impress. Take pictures of fish to admire their detail later and less at the stream.

Fish that are larger than the standard for that stream or are a personal best

Once you fish a stream regularly, you learn which ones are larger than average. This year has been a challenge for me, though, as I have been finding more of these larger fish than usual. It likely says more about the fisheries than my angling skills—or maybe a little of both? In the end, we each also have our personal bests for the size of fish caught. 

Fish connected to a memorable place

Last year, I fished for the first time outside of the United States. I took a wonderful trip to Austria, and it was a very special experience. The geographical trout species we caught were part of the whole experience. The photos from that trip transport me back and make me smile. I also have photographic reminders of fish from Utah, South Dakota, Wyoming, and other states too. This begs the question: perhaps the memory of those places is better recorded with more photos of the places and the people we are with than the fish we catch?

When you travel, consider taking pics of the place and people you are with but be sure to capture the difference in the fish species too.


Think before you take that picture
When photographing a fish, prioritize its well-being over your excitement or ego. Avoid letting vanity cause harm to the fish. If you are with someone let them take the picture. Remember, the goal is to be present in the moment, valuing the fish’s life more than the photo. Also, consider that the time spent on photos could be better used fishing. I keep a simple tally of my catches just for my own satisfaction.


I would like to close this article with a reminder on proper fish handling for practicing catch and release. Sometimes, it is a good idea to preach to the choir and let the choir sing the song to everyone else too. 

By following these guidelines, you can enjoy your fishing experience while also ensuring the health and survival of the fish you catch.

Keeping the fish closer to the water also prevents them from damage should they flop and fall. If you can, have a friend take the picture. Then you can be in it too.

Dennis Vander Houwen is an early adopter of tenkara, he lives and fishes all over Colorado.  For more information on living simply or approaching a richer life with fewer things check out his blog, Tenkara Path, where you can also support his tenkara lifestyle by purchasing one of his amazing, handmade tenkara line spool, fly keepers. Learn more about Tenkara Lifestyles here.

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