Side by side they stood on a makeshift platform, 10 strong, clippers in hand, eyes focused on their jobs. And every so often, one or another would glance up (or not) and say the magic word.

“Fish.”

That single word was the reason they were at the Enfield Fish Hatchery, of course, and the reason that many have been coming back each fall for 10 or 15 or 25 years.

Fish. Fish. Fish.

All day long, for a week straight, nothing but fish after fish after fish.

Pick one up. Clip a fin (or two, if that’s what’s required). Toss the fish back into a sluice, which will wash it back into its home raceway. Grab another fish. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Then, when your supply of anesthetized brook trout or splake runs out, say the magic word, and a fisheries staffer will bring you another netfull.

Fish, indeed.

“We’ve clipped as many as 40,000 fish in a day, but typically we’re looking at about 30,000 fish in a day with a 10-person crew,” said Gordon “Nels” Kramer, regional biologist for the Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife.

And without those 10 – usually a group of women from the Enfield area – the job would be much, much tougher.

The Enfield hatchery provides fish for stocking in Maine lakes, ponds, streams and rivers from Allagash to Deer Isle, from Machias to Greenville.

At any one time, there are 350,000 fish at the facility.

Kramer said the idea of enlisting the help of area women began sometime in the early ’60s and continues to this day. The system is simple, efficient, and labor-intensive.

Over the course of one week, hatchery personnel, fisheries biologists and staffers, and the clipping crew combine efforts to clip the fins off about 120,000 fish that have been raised at the hatchery.

Clipping the fins – a different fin or combination of fins is pared off each year – allows biologists to identify the age of a fish after it’s eventually caught.

Sometimes, anglers do the catching. Other times, biologists do, in their periodic trap-netting research.

Quickly determining the age of a fish is essential. Biologists could do it in more scientific ways – taking a scale sample, returning to the lab, and looking at the scale under a microscope – but checking for a clipped fin is much easier and just as accurate.

Kramer said many members of the crew keep returning, year after year. And he says his job is easy: All he has to do is make a single call, to one woman who serves as the crew leader, and provide time sheets so that everyone gets paid.

Nowadays, that woman is Cheryl Hatch of Seboeis Plantation.

“I’ve been clipping fish for about 15 years. I really enjoy it,” Hatch said, taking a break from her chores and waiting for hatchery personnel to bring another truckload of fish to the work area. “It’s a lot of fun, and [I] get to meet a lot of people. And the hatchery crew is great.”

On the clipping line, two dogs – owned by biologists Kramer and Brian Campbell – wander back and forth in the puddles, taking in the scene.

And up on the platform, clippers in hand, the women work their way through another batch of trout.

Snip a fin. Flip a trout into the sluice. Snip. Flip. Snip. Flip. “Fish.”

But it’s not all work and no play for the fin-clippers. Not even close.

Thursday is always pot luck day, and each year, you never know what folks are going to bring. All you know is, you’re going to eat exceptionally well.

On Friday, the women polished off a raspberry pie in the morning and sat around a picnic table during their downtime, waiting for more fish to arrive.

“We get to have a picnic, and we get to eat and just have a good time,” Hatch said. “It’s a good time of fellowship and the ladies all like it. It’s fun.”

When the fish being anesthetized and delivered to the clipping line, there’s a bit less chatting … but not much.

There are a few secrets to clipping fins well, Hatch admits.

“Rhythm,” she says. “And good clippers.”

But even good clippers sometimes give out, as one worker proved.

“They clip so fast, they break the fin-clippers,” Campbell said at one point, fetching a fresh pair of clippers after a mechanical malfunction.

Hatch said breaking the clippers is just an occupational hazard; if you’re going to clip the fins off 30,000 trout in a day, things are bound to happen.

“We break ’em a lot,” she said with a chuckle. “But we just keep plugging away.”

Fish after fish. Fin after fin. Day after day, for a week each fall.

And that’s OK with Hatch and the others. They get to bank a bit of money and get to spend time with old and new friends.

And while it’s a wet, soggy job, it’s actually quite pleasant, she says.

“We used to [back when I started] clip in the spring and the fall,” Hatch said. “The spring clip was really tough, really cold. The snow would still be on the brook.”

That was then. Now, clipping is done in the fall. And on Friday, a perfectly sunny September day, those raw spring days seemed long, long ago.

Clip. Flip. Clip. Flip.

Fish.

Salmon season begins today

Atlantic salmon enthusiasts will flock to the banks of the Penobscot River this morning to mark the opening day of the river’s fall catch-and-release fishing season.

Some will choose to fish, while others will gather at the Eddington Salmon Club for a breakfast that is being put on by the Penobscot, Veazie and Eddington salmon clubs.

Breakfast will be served from 6-10 a.m.

As of Monday, just 30 licenses had been purchased for this year’s season, which is just the second open season since the river was closed to all Atlantic salmon fishing in 1999.

A single fish was reported caught last year, and experts say because not many fish will be in the river at this time of year, not many will be caught again during the monthlong season.

That needn’t discourage anglers, however.

A year ago, enthusiastic salmon conservationists bought more than 200 licenses, and many of those anglers never took the chance to fish.

Some bought the licenses for a simple reason: They wanted to show support for conservation efforts.

There’s no reason not to do the same this year.

Ongoing efforts may result in a spring fishery being opened on the Penobscot in May, and the Atlantic Salmon Commission is expected to discuss that possibility at its next meeting.

If you can afford the $17 price tag ($15 for a license, $2 for the agent fee), making that purchase could serve as a token gesture to Maine Atlantic Salmon Commissioners that we anglers are paying attention to the Penobscot and hoping for better days ahead … whether or not we choose to fish during the fall.

See you on the water this morning … or at the feed trough. I’ll likely spend plenty of time at both venues.

Salmon meeting rescheduled

The Maine Atlantic Commission has rescheduled the meeting that was scrapped this week because a quorum could not be reached.

The next regular meeting will now be held at the Eddington Salmon Club on Oct. 18, from 10 a.m. until 1 p.m.

An agenda has yet been established, but you can expect commissioners to take another step – one way or another – toward dealing with the possibility of a spring salmon season next year.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.