Fredericksburg, Virginia – Most mornings, when the weather is just right, angler Mike Sielicki can be found out on the water in Fredericksburg, Virginia – just an hour’s drive from Washington – trying to catch a species of fish that was once considered a dangerous threat to the surrounding aquatic wildlife.
“To me, it’s the best fish that ever hit the United States,” Sielicki says with enthusiasm. “I hope it spreads to every body of water so that everyone can enjoy it.”
Sielicki has been fishing for northern snakeheads for 20 years, ever since they first appeared in Potomac Creek, a shallow inlet that feeds into the Potomac River – a major waterway in the Washington area. Through his company, Apex Predators Potomac Creek, he takes paying customers out on his boat to fish for this invasive predator, originally from Asia.
“I have a fair amount of people that come from out of state, even out of the country, just to fish with me,” he says on a quiet August morning when the snakeheads are proving elusive so far. “The water here is very shallow and gets very grassy, making it the perfect habitat for them.”
Snakeheads first appeared in the Washington area in 2002, and immediately, local wildlife officials sounded the alarm. Scientists were concerned that these fish would decimate the native predator fish populations, including the prized largemouth bass.
“The Potomac River is a renowned destination for bass tournaments and sport bass fishing throughout the country. It’s huge,” says John Odenkirk, a fisheries biologist with the Virginia Department of Wildlife Resources. “And so, that was the concern – that this fish [snakehead] was going to destroy that, because they were kind of at the same level at the top of the food chain.”
With their pointy teeth and ability to breathe air, snakeheads can grow up to 83 centimeters long and survive out of the water for several days as long as their skin remains moist. They also have the unique ability to spawn twice a year, while similar level fish only spawn once a year. This gave officials reason to worry that snakeheads would have an edge over native top-level predators.
“On paper, it seemed like they had a competitive advantage,” Odenkirk explains. “What was driving the fear was that the abundance of snakeheads would get so high that they would overwhelm the system. But that never happened. They never reached a point where they could threaten the stature of the bass because there weren’t enough of them.”
Odenkirk says that snakeheads aren’t dominating their environment because predators, such as birds and other large fish, have found them. Additionally, the snakehead’s natural prey, including smaller fish, have instinctively adjusted to their presence. This means that the fish populations that snakeheads prey on have not declined, suggesting that they are not having a negative impact on the environment.
Moreover, the snakehead has become popular among anglers, which has also helped keep their population in check. The firm, mild-tasting white meat of the snakehead makes it a sought-after delicacy.
“It’s like swimming chicken,” Sielicki says with a smile. “It’s the most hardy piece of meat you’ll ever get.”
Despite this suppression, the snakehead population has become most abundant in the Potomac River and its tributaries in the Washington area, as well as in the southern state of Arkansas, where the fish used to be bred for food until 2002 when federal officials banned the practice.
Even though snakeheads have not had a noticeably negative impact on the ecosystem, wildlife officials are not yet ready to give the invasive species a clean bill of health.
“If they get into a different environment, especially where there are threatened or endangered fish, or where there is not as much diversity in the fish community, there could be some unwanted impacts,” Odenkirk explains. “So, there is still some hesitancy to fully embrace the fish across the board.”
Years ago, worried wildlife officials advised people to kill snakeheads if they caught them. However, a recent state survey showed that about 40% of people who catch this prized fish in Virginia now choose to release it back into the wild.
But not Sielicki, who relishes harvesting his catch. After an hours-long lull, the determined fisherman finally
