As Capt. Chris Heuth eased back on the throttle of his party boat Big Mohawk, the electronic fish finder showed a very clear picture. The bottom was flat as a board. The blue water above showed not a trace of fish. Suddenly, a structure arose from the bottom, much like an oasis in the desert.

Above: Capt. Chris Heuth of the Big Mohawk stresses the importance of changing baits regularly. He scored this big blackfish by using a fresh green crab. Photo by Milt Rosko.

It was no manmade structure, but a ragged pile of rocks placed there eons ago by Mother Nature. Its configuration was clearly defined with jagged peaks, some widely separated, and many extending 10 to 15 feet up from the bottom. More importantly, some marks on his scope indicated fish among those rocks -- just tiny blips that had to be tautogs, or blackfish, as they were popularly known by the twenty-odd anglers on board.

Only minutes later, Capt. Chris had positioned the Big Mohawk upcurrent from the rough bottom. He placed the anchor on clear bottom and throttled back over the spot.

"We've got plenty of green crabs as bait," said the skipper as he left the wheelhouse. "So make certain you replace the bait quickly if the bergalls are a bother." He quickly repaired to the rail, walking up and down to help anglers in baiting their hooks or preparing a rig that would work on the feisty blackfish that had made the spot their winter residence.

"Often the tiny bergalls suck all the meat out of the crabs, and there's nothing left but the shell," said Heuth.

"So keeping a fresh bait on the hook is important if you want to score with a big black."

It didn't take long for things to happen. A neighboring angler at the rail lifted his rod tip smartly, and had it pulled down just as smartly.

"I'm in," he announced with satisfaction. "And it's a good one!"

Moments later, Capt. Chris was alongside and did the netting honors. He brought aboard a beauty of about 5 pounds -- a perfect size for the dinner table, and certainly well above New Jersey's 14-inch minimum-size requirement.

So began a most enjoyable winter's day! On leaving dockside, the mercury played with the 32-degree mark, and the decks bore a glaze of black ice from the night's freezing temperature. But the warmth of the cabin -- and the camaraderie of a truly dedicated bunch of veteran anglers -- made for a day far more enjoyable than spent watching spectator sports on television where the players are having all the fun!

You had to be alert. For as soon as your sinker touched down on the rocks below, the bergalls would be after your bait with their pesky peck, peck, peck. Sometimes they'd get the bait, no matter how carefully you placed it on the hook. But often it'd just be a couple of pecks, and then nothing . . .

Until you felt a subtle strike! If you were sufficiently disciplined, you hesitated and let the blackfish ingest the green crab into its mouth, before lifting back to set the hook.

Then the fun began, with give and take until the 'tog was within range of a mate, or Capt. Chris' net.

Most everyone had caught his or her share of undersized fish, which we carefully unhooked and promptly released. On this trip, fortunately, most of the blackfish were keepers.

Periodically, the deckhands would reposition the boat, easing out more anchor rope to position us over a different part of the bottom. Tautogs have a reputation of not moving very far from their lair, and you've got to put the bait where they can spot it.

Hence the regular relocations.