For decades, the alligator garfish has carried a reputation as a dangerous predator—one rumored to attack humans and decimate game fish populations, especially largemouth bass.
An article by garfish expert Keith Sutton recounts a report from the May 7, 1884 edition of the Arkansas Gazette, which described a boy named Perry being pulled overboard when a garfish bit his leg as it dangled from a boat on Shoal Creek in Logan County. Though his companions rescued him, the boy suffered severe injuries.
I also came across a reference to a 1922 article in the New Orleans Times-Picayune that went so far as to claim garfish were “more dangerous to humans than sharks.”
At the time, it was common for people to toss table scraps into the water around boat docks. Garfish became accustomed to this easy food source, and it’s likely that many of the so-called “attacks” occurred when people placed their feet in the water near feeding fish. These incidents were not acts of aggression but cases of mistaken identity. In fact, there are no verified human attacks by garfish in modern times.
The belief that garfish destroy game fish populations is just as unfounded. In 1987, Texas Parks & Wildlife Department biologist Paul Seidensticker conducted a study titled Food Selection of Alligator Gar and Longnose Gar in a Texas Reservoir at Sam Rayburn Reservoir. Using jug lines and gillnets, Seidensticker and his team collected 209 alligator gar between September and October, ranging from 18 to 156 pounds. Most had empty stomachs.
Among those that had eaten, gizzard shad made up the largest portion of the diet at 26.4 percent. Channel catfish accounted for 14.9 percent, followed by freshwater drum at 12.6 percent and bluegill at 7.9 percent. Largemouth bass comprised only 3.4 percent of the diet—hardly the devastation often claimed. Other unusual items found included two coots, several fishhooks, an artificial lure, and even a plastic bag.
“Gar really are outcasts that are misunderstood,” said Craig Springer of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. “They have unlimited potential as sportfish but have unfortunately suffered in the court of public opinion.”
That misunderstanding once fueled gar-killing tournaments designed to “save” game fish populations. Author Smokey Crabtree frequently won these events by fishing the Sulphur River bottoms in Arkansas.
“We’d catch them six and seven feet long and stack them like cordwood,” Crabtree recalled. “It was a sight to behold.”
Crabtree used jug lines baited with live carp weighing two to five pounds and sometimes landed gar exceeding 200 pounds.
Today, the greatest pressure on garfish comes from commercial fishing and bowfishing. Choke Canyon Reservoir near George West was once renowned for its alligator gar population, but harvest encouragement following impoundment led to a dramatic decline. Texas Parks & Wildlife Department acknowledged this in its own lake profile, noting that the number of large alligator gar is now low due to commercial harvest.
While the official status of alligator gar in Texas remains uncertain, longtime anglers have witnessed sharp declines in many waters that once held abundant populations. Channelization and reservoir construction have contributed to an overall reduction in numbers—an issue now recognized even at the federal level.
Recent regulations have helped conserve this remarkable species. Texas remains the last state with a viable trophy alligator gar fishery, and careful management will determine whether future generations get the same opportunities.
I still remember the excitement surrounding “Big John,” the legendary alligator gar said to live in a local gully. When I was in elementary school, some high school boys devised a plan involving a nylon rope tied to a truck, baited with a whole chicken on a shark hook beneath a jug. When the jug went under, they’d start the engine and haul the fish ashore.
To us kids, it was the most brilliant idea imaginable.
The only catch was that the plan unfolded on property belonging to the high school agriculture department, off-limits to anyone else. We had to watch from the road, hoping the fish would fit in the truck bed long enough for us to glimpse it.
As the ag students suddenly scattered in all directions, our imaginations ran wild. Had the fish attacked someone? Was it even bigger than we’d imagined?
The truth turned out to be just as dramatic—they’d hooked a nine-foot alligator gar that was far from pleased about being dragged behind a truck.
That sense of mystery and awe is what makes the alligator garfish so compelling. Thanks to improved conservation efforts, these ancient giants will continue to inspire anglers and storytellers for generations to come.
Chester Moore
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While “Jaws” is on the minds of beachgoers in Texas (our variety-bulls, lemons, blacktips) “Teeth” is soaking up some of the same salty waters.