This year's shortened New Zealand whitebaiting season opened on 1 September.
Country Life spends a morning with some long-time whitebaiters dipping their nets in Lake Onoke on the first day of the season.
Catching whitebait is "just something I've always done", says former South Wairarapa dairy farmer Noel Parker.
For more than 40 years he's been setting his nets and enjoys the seasonal tradition of getting together with mates.
Noel and his friend Garth Gadsby describe themselves as 'hunter-gatherers', flowing from duck-shooting to whitebaiting to floundering to paua hunting and crayfishing with the rhythm of the seasons.
Lake Onoke - their traditional whitebaiting destination - is a brackish bit of water separating Palliser Bay from the rivers and wetlands draining the lower Wairarapa valley.
Noel and Garth set up their nets at the top of the lake where it meets culverts linking wetlands to the north.
They wait for the tide to turn and the whitebait to start sensing the current.
That's when the juvenile fish start moving in and, guided by screens, hopefully flow into the men's triangular-shaped nets.
Whitebait return from the sea to freshwater to grow and later spawn on the banks of rivers and streams.
In New Zealand, they're the juveniles of six species - including five native fish.
Theoretically, the volume of whitebait should increase as the tide goes out as they're attracted to the current, Noel says.
"They can smell the water coming out of the lagoons up here ... obviously, they're going back up here to breed."
This year's whitebaiting season has been cut short by six weeks in most parts of New Zealand to help boost declining fish numbers.
Noel says he hasn't noticed this himself.
"DOC (Department of Conservation) will tell you the whitebait are getting extinct but we haven't noticed that at all here. I mean you get good seasons and you get bad seasons .. it's never been any different really.
"We've noticed in the last few years we're getting a lot more introduced species like rudd, but mostly it's your inangas and we catch a few cockabillys."
Garth recalls getting 80 to 90 pounds of whitebait a day in times gone by.
"They've taken away a lot of the wetlands up north. Man's his own worst enemy. We've destroyed all the wetlands and that's where they all breed. We've just got to look at ourselves I think."
Nevertheless, Noel thinks the shorter season made sense as the best runs are in September and October anyway.
The men, in their chest-high neoprene waders, step carefully into the water to adjust the screens as the tide turns.
There are ripples on the water as the whitebait accumulate, sensing the current.
Noel picks up his net and with the help of his wife, Liz, the catch is tipped into a bucket.
A couple of eggs are cracked and they're whipped up with whitebait, fresh out of the lake, and popped into a frying pan nearby.
The only thing missing is the traditional white bread.
Tradition and socialising are what whitebaiting is all about, Noel says.
He hasn't noticed many newcomers to the sport in recent years.
"They're all old people that have been coming here for many years, like us really.
"Because we were brought up in the country and we had to make out own entertainment, whitebaiting is just what we've always done.
"It's just in my DNA to do it.
"It's a good day out. It's a bonus if you catch something."