Inside Angles: Why Fish Jump

Besides liking to catch them, sometimes it’s also fun to think about the fish we pursue and some of the questions that arise in the process. On the question of “why some fish jump and others don’t,” I’d offer this: 

Each fish brings to the table a set of characteristics that make it a unique fish species. Smallmouth bass often jump. Catfish may thrash the surface, but usually don’t jump. Salmon often jump, but carp rarely do so when they’re hooked. Some genetic renditions of rainbow trout often jump; others wallow like bullheads. Stripers fight impressively, but don’t jump. Alligator gar jump, but never get all the way out of the water. Same for big white sturgeon. Largemouth bass jump, often way out of the water. Walleyes don’t jump and neither do crappies. But muskies are quite likely to jump, while pike might jump, but usually don’t, except during early summer. 

So, again, each fish species offers a set of characteristics that make it cool. It’s one of the reasons we love them all, want to understand them, and want to be able to catch them.

There surely was an evolutionary or developmental process involved here. Salmon and some trout species have evolved to swim rivers to return to natal streams to spawn and along the way often have to jump barriers to complete the journey. It’s “natural” for them to jump. They may travel tremendous distances and face numerous barriers, so I suppose that’s why they’re one of the finest leapers in freshwater—so, too, and the more so for Atlantic salmon. For lack of any other things to say in this regard: These fish are like the great athletes of our fish, having had thousands of years of practice.

Other fish that we don’t necessarily connect with rivers now, like the muskie, were originally a river fish as they developed over the millennia and still carry with them today an inherent need to pass barriers in some of their movements. So they’re somewhat used to jumping. It’s still part and parcel of their nature, although they don’t always need that “nature” today. Likely the same with pike, which were originally a river fish, but then split with the muskie to spend more time in stiller waters, as opposed to the muskie, which stayed for the most part at least initially, in river environments, thus, on another hand, the reason for the difference in water temperature preferences, the muskie preferring warmer temperature, the bigger pike actually thriving in chilly water temperatures.

This may or may not offer in passing a background basis for why smallmouths and largemouths have the ability to jump. I don’t know enough about the developmental process in their cases to comment widely.  

On the other hand, the reason they jump and another reason many other fish jump in response to being hooked may be a result of a long learning process about what works best when it’s time to try to expel something they’ve eaten that’s not going down as well as expected.

A crawfish is eaten but is too big and puts up too much of a struggle and the fish wants to get rid of it. Or, just as likely, the fish eats a spiny prey fish like a bluegill that becomes lodged in the fish’s craw. It’s easier for the fish to shake the thing loose above water than below water, given the significant resistance below water and the comparative lack of water resistance above the surface. So a natural fish response to feeling something unusual is to jump and shake to get rid of the thing, even though the thing (hook) that’s sticking them is in the mouth and not in their craw. Somewhere along the long road during the last 7 or 8 or 9 million years, some of these species evolved a means to get rid of something that endangered them when they couldn’t swallow it.

Then again, some fish like salmon may not employ this reason for jumping. They may be so genetically programmed to jump because of their stream travels that they may do so any time, including when they become frantic when they’re hooked.

Is there any musculature-associated reason that some fish jump and others don’t, you might ask? I haven’t had time to look into that one, although fish with darker flesh, like salmon, apparently are evolved to swim faster and farther than fish with whiter flesh, like walleyes and bass.  

Water temperature within a range of tolerance seems to spur jumping tendencies, too. Pike are most zoomed up several weeks after spawning and for several weeks before the surface temperatures get too warm. Steelhead jump in frigid (34°F) water, but jump better when it’s in the mid-range of tolerance, perhaps what might be called the preferred range, although they also jump when water temperatures are at the upper edge of tolerance.

By now we’re all also familiar with how the invasive silver carp respond to the presence of boat and motor noise. Sturgeon, too, seem to do this at times. Other times, perhaps they breech to let other sturgeon know they’re in the area? Is it a territorial display?

We can also address what enhances jumping from the standpoint of tackle choice. At times we should match tackle to the athletic ability of fish instead of trying to maximize at all costs our total control over them, this a result of a fishing mindset where the angler wants to catch as many as fast as possible and doesn’t want fish to jump because it increases chances for them to get away. Lighter tackle (up to a point) means more of a tussle and can result in an extra jump or two.

Fish certainly sometimes jump to try to catch prey. I’ve often witnessed smaller largemouth bass trying to time their leaps to connect with dragonflies flying just above the surface. I’ve never seen them get one, but when conditions are right, they keep right on trying. Are they playing—with intent? Or are they intent—on playing?
  
So, finally, do fish also jump for joy? And if not for the joy of it, perhaps simply because all systems are working well: light conditions; prey availability; water temperature, and metabolic rate? Maybe. Yeah, actually, why not?

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