I am retiring in October and, if all goes according to plan, will be spending a lot more time fishing and a lot less time in meetings.

That means I may soon be free from hearing some of the management expressions that seem to populate conference rooms, Zoom calls, and PowerPoint slides everywhere. Admittedly, I have used my fair share of them. Many of these phrases are harmless, but most can be translated into plain English.

As for me, my main goal is simple: spend more time on the water, catch a few fish, and never again hear anyone talk about stakeholder alignment, synergies, or North Stars.

Having recently caught a ton of Bullheads and, just yesterday, a Lake Sturgeon, Channel Catfish, and Flathead Catfish, I became curious about the role these structures play in the lives of these fish.

Barbels (pronounced bar-buhls, not bar-bells) are the whisker-like appendages seen on catfish, bullheads, and several other kinds of fish. These structures help fish locate food in bottom sediments, murky water, deep water, and nighttime conditions where vision is limited.

Among North American freshwater fishes, barbels are found in many catfishes (Order Siluriformes), including Channel, Flathead, Blue, and White Catfish; Black, Brown, and Yellow Bullheads; and the numerous Madtom species. Barbels are also present in all true Sturgeons (Family Acipenseridae), including Lake, Pallid, Shovelnose, Atlantic, Shortnose, White, and Green Sturgeon. Other freshwater fishes with barbels include Burbot (also known as Eelpout) and Carp species such as Common Carp and Grass Carp.

Catfish typically possess four pairs of barbels (eight total), although the number and arrangement vary among species. Sturgeon, by contrast, always have four barbels positioned beneath the snout just in front of the mouth. Common Carp have two pairs of barbels (four total) at the corners of the mouth, while Burbot have only a single barbel located beneath the chin.

Although barbels have evolved independently in many different fish groups, they generally serve the same purpose: acting as highly sensitive sensory organs that help fish locate food and explore their surroundings when vision alone is not enough. From an evolutionary perspective, barbels provide a nice example of convergent evolution—different fish lineages independently evolved similar sensory “whiskers” because they offer a significant advantage in dark, muddy, or bottom-dwelling environments.

As a pathologist, I was curious about what a histologic section of a barbel would look like—that is, how it would appear under the microscope after staining. It turns out that a fish barbel is much more than a simple flap of skin; it is a highly specialized sensory organ.

In cross-section, a catfish or carp barbel typically contains:

1. Stratified squamous epithelium covering the outer surface, much like the epidermis of human skin.
2. Numerous taste buds scattered throughout the epithelium. In catfish, these are extraordinarily abundant. The taste buds contain specialized sensory receptor cells that allow the fish to literally “taste” objects before taking them into the mouth.
3. Mucous cells, which secrete a protective mucus layer and help facilitate chemical sensing.
4. A rich nerve plexus immediately beneath the epithelium. Large sensory nerve bundles course through the barbel, with individual nerve fibers extending to taste buds and tactile receptors.
5. A connective tissue core that provides structural support.
6. Numerous blood vessels that nourish the tissue.
7. Supporting cartilage in some species.

Viewed histologically, a barbel resembles an exquisitely engineered sensory probe packed with receptors for touch and taste. What appears externally to be a simple whisker is actually one of the most sophisticated sensory structures found in fishes.

Now, when I look at a bullhead, catfish, sturgeon, or carp, I no longer see funny little whiskers—I see a set of highly specialized sensory instruments that help these fish thrive in environments where sight alone is not enough.

Drove to the St. Croix River early this morning hoping to pick up a few new redhorse species. I left at 4:30 a.m. so I could be fishing by 7, though the two‑hour drive always turns into a bit more with my usual pit stops.

I started at Osceola Landing with my standard setup: 6 lb line, a roughly 16‑inch leader, and a size 8 hook baited with a small piece of nightcrawler. I caught a small Freshwater Drum first, followed by a Golden Redhorse. Both were familiar species, so no new additions to the list.

The heat and lack of sleep caught up with me, so I took a 45‑minute nap and then grabbed lunch. That helped a lot. I spent the afternoon fishing at Interstate State Park on both the Minnesota and Wisconsin sides. I got a few bites but nothing hooked up, which was frustrating after such a long trip.

On the way home, I stopped in Hastings to try salvaging the day with a common carp. I did catch a fish there—but it turned out to be a large bullhead instead of a carp.

Not the day I hoped for, but still a couple fish and some new water and beautiful scenery explored.

Since I started avidly fishing in April, I’ve become aware of the geography and character of water in a way I never had been before. I’ve lived in Rochester, MN for 37 years (with two years away), and of course I’ve always known the Zumbro and Root Rivers and the reservoirs — Willow Creek, East Kalmar, Silver Creek, Silver Lake, and South Landfill. Birdwatching made me familiar with the reservoirs over the years.

But when it came to the rivers themselves, I honestly couldn’t have told you much about their routes through the county. Now I find myself regularly thinking about them — where they flow, how they branch, and where good fishing might be. I’ve started paying attention to river features like riffles, runs, and pools, and imagining where each might be hiding fish.

The figure below shows the major watershed basins of Minnesota. The Cannon, Zumbro, and Root Rivers all fall within the Lower Mississippi River Basin, even though they aren’t individually labeled on the map. Seeing the basin laid out like this has helped me understand how these rivers fit into the larger landscape of southeastern Minnesota — and what species I might find as I explore them. Fishing has completely changed the way I see water.