The fish—scores of them, all vaguely similar in appearance—didn’t move except for the rhythmic opening and closing of their gill covers. They knew what most people don’t know: The term “bass” is an artifice of the human imagination, not a real thing. Except in Germany where it’s spelled “barsch” and means “perch.”
Behold the elegant simplicity of ichthys, the Christian bass.
The fish we Americans call “bass” do not fall into any kind of biologically cohesive group, except that most of them follow the general architectural plan of ichthys, the Christian symbol of bumper sticker notoriety. Its regular and symmetrical shape are what first come to mind when we think “fish.”
When the first Europeans arriving in America encountered these ichthys-shaped fishes, they liked what they saw and often named them “bass.” One of the few positive things Capt. John Smith wrote in his otherwise downbeat account New England was, “[T]here hath beene taken one thousand Bases at a draught. . .” What were these “Bases?” There’s no way of knowing, although the name he chose for them at least tells us they weren’t eels.
Giant of the bass world.
So let’s meet some of these fish that we call basses. Our esteemed North American black basses are actually members of the sunfish family (Centrarchidae), including the paradoxically controversial Alabama bass. (See main article You’re Calling Me a . . . WHAT?) The European bass, marketed in the US as branzino (appearing as the sacrificial offering in the photo above), is a saltwater fish belonging to the Moronidae family. The same family claims the esteemed striped bass, native to the North American east coast and now introduced to the west coast and large freshwater impoundments. Other Moronidae are the white bass, the yellow bass, and the white perch.
The mighty channel bass belongs to the big and noisy Sciaenidae family, noisy because some of them make grunting or croaking sounds when pulled from the water, which explains why this bass is also called the red drum. Then there’s the giant sea bass of the northern Pacific, with weights exceeding 500 pounds and lengths of over eight feet, and which belongs to the wreckfish family (Polyprionidae). The hard-fighting peacock bass of the tropics is actually a cichlid (Cichlidae), and therefore related to the tilapia of the cheap frozen seafood section of the supermarket. The Chilean sea bass started its commercial existence as the Patagonian toothfish (Nototheniidae) until a wholesaler came up with its now-familiar culinary name. What the Germans call “barsch” is a member of the freshwater perch family (Percidae).
The might-have-been Manchurian bass.
How about the Manchurian bass (Channidae)? Unfortunately it doesn’t exist, because by the time fishermen saw through the vilification campaign waged against it by government wildlife agencies and the media, the name “snakehead” was already well established.
So if you see a fish that you like, and you don’t know what it is, just call it a bass. Who’s to say you’re wrong?
One thought on “A name by many other fish”