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Containing habitat information, physical descriptions, photographs, and range maps for more than 150 species of freshwater fishes that can be found in Texas, this field guide is an indispensable reference and research tool for ichthyologists, professional fisheries biologists, amateur naturalists, and anglers alike.   The introductory section offers an illustrated guide to the common counts and measurements used for fish identification; a brief explanation of fish phylogeny; and a scientific key to help identify the fish families in Texas.   The book includes species accounts of native and introduced fishes found in the freshwaters of Texas. Each account covers the physical characteristics, habitat, and distribution of the fish, with additional comments of interest or importance to its life history and conservation status. With the largest collection to date of color photographs, including various color phases (breeding and non-breeding colors), the book also includes range maps within the species accounts. The closing pages of the book feature a glossary and reference section.   In a time when the state’s water resources are beset by issues growing in both number and complexity, this book provides information for professionals and policy makers. It also contributes to the natural history education of the public.

Under the orange glow of a brilliant dawn I hummed along Washington Harbor in a 14-foot boat. I was going to rendezvous with Clint Maxwell, the last big-boat commercial fisherman on Isle Royale. We approached Washington Island just as flaming orange rays skipped across the harbor. We docked alongside the old grey-board fish house. Sagging buildings and wave-worn docks were the norms here just like in other areas of the park. Down the path, thermos in hand, sleepyeyed Clint strolled toward me. Fishermen, on shore, never seemed in a hurry. “I’m glad you came,” he said, and walked off to

“I understand that you’re Swedish,” I said, smiling and trying to be friendly. His answer came quickly. “No-no. I’m Norwegian.” “Oh.” What a great beginning, I thought. But he invited me into the kitchen anyway, curious as to what I wanted. We were six miles north of Grand Marais, Minnesota, along the sharp and jagged shoreline of Lake Superior. I pulled out a map of Isle Royale as John pulled up a chair and began to talk about his life as a commercial fisherman. “I fished mostly in Hay Bay.” He pointed to a wellprotected bay that lies inside the

As I turned into the yard, six deer looked up from their food, stared at me with a rigid alertness, and then flashed away, white tails waving good-bye behind graceful leaps. Uneaten grain remained on the ground. I was near Grand Marais, Minnesota, to meet a spirited lady named Ingeborg Holte. Any woman who’d take the trouble to feed deer, chipmunks, woodpeckers, and pesky blue jays must be a special person. She was. With a burst of bustling energy she invited me inside. Before anything else, I noticed her artwork—several oils and watercolors that hung on the walls. One

I first met Grant Merritt in Tobin Harbor at camp “Dig Inn.” I was there to see his flamboyant father, a man not noted for long silences. After talking to and photographing Glen, Grant approached me. “Let’s go and get supper.” “What?” He waved for me to follow. “We’ll get a fresh fish.” “Just like that?” No one can be that sure of catching fish, I thought. I’ll have to see this. We took a 16-foot boat and roared up the harbor, past Mattsons’, Kemmers’, Edwards Island, and other places Glen had mentioned. Near Blake’s Point, Grant dropped a line