After centuries of servitude, albeit involuntary and impaled on the point of a hook, the humble bloodworm is finally being liberated.

It's a revolution of sorts — one not of worms but of technology. A chemist in Florida has invented an artificial alternative that America's fishermen are increasingly turning to.

The worm is slowly being replaced by a more modern concoction — the latest in a long line of high-tech gizmos that are making outdoor sports more about comfort and efficiency than the thrill of the chase.

Today's anglers take advantage of high-resolution underwater imaging to find schools of fish, submerged cameras to see what's happening beneath the surface and global positioning devices to find the spot again. There are super-light reels made of titanium, invisible fishing line and scientifically engineered bait that simulates every fishy detail.

Hunting also has become something of a spectator sport for those who can't resist the new gadgets, such as motion-sensitive cameras that send live feeds to your living room. Silver-lined jackets hide hunters' odors so they can go undetected by game, and electronic range-finders in rifles calculate the exact distance to a target.

The next generation of sportsmen, those who have grown up with MP3 players and flat-panel TVs, has come to expect the same level of sophistication from outdoors gadgets. Retailers have experienced a surge in demand for devices that make it easier to reel in the big ones.

Fishbites, the fast-selling bloodworm challengers, came out last year and have taken a sizable chunk of the bloodworms' business in bait and tackle shops on the Eastern Seaboard. Resembling strips of pink bubble gum, Fishbites are infused with chemicals that mimic bloodworms' scent.

The bloodworm has for generations been the bait of choice for fishers of croakers, spot and mullet on the mid-Atlantic coast. But overharvesting the mudflats of Maine in recent years has yielded small, shabby worms, as high demand has at times more than doubled the price.

These days, a single, 2-inch bloodworm can cost nearly a dollar. Their small size makes it easy for sly prey to pluck them off the hook, and they survive only a few days in the fridge. A piece of Fishbites, by comparison, costs about 7 cents, lasts for months in a tackle box and stays on the hook.

"At the rate they're going, they'll probably take over the bloodworm," said Bob Salvatore, owner of A&R Bait and Tackle at Cape Henlopen. Now at the peak of fishing season, he sells almost 3,000 bags of Fishbites a week. "It'll at least force (the bloodworm dealers) to lower their price."

Fishbites debuted five years ago when William Carr, a retired researcher for the University of Florida's Whitney Laboratory for Marine Bioscience, perfected a chemical mixture nearly identical to the substances that attract fish to live bait. It took him 30 years to come up with the recipe for shrimp, clam, squid and crab, and another year to develop the organic gel-like substance he used as the bait.

It wasn't until Carr, 70, came out with the bloodworm version last year that the family-run business, Carr Specialty Baits Inc., started to make a killing. The family started selling the product through independent bait shops in Florida; now about 1,000 stores carry it. Revenue reached $1.8 million last year, up from about $257,000 in 2004, based on units sold. Profit is expected to grow by about 30 percent this year, and the bloodworm flavor accounts for 67 percent of sales, said Michael Carr, the inventor's son and vice president of marketing.

The product is simple: a strip of mesh fabric coated with a hardened, gel-like substance that secretes the bloodworm scent in the water. A piece as small as one-half inch stays on the hook long enough to catch four or five fish. Made from organic materials, Fishbites dissolve in hours without harming marine life, William Carr said.

Plenty of purists stick by the wriggly worm. But it's unclear whether these old-school anglers can sustain Maine's bloodworm industry, which brought in $6 million in 2005, down from $7.5 million in 2004. About 1,000 independent diggers spend mornings bent over, knee-deep in mud, following the tides in search of the dwindling supply of bloodworms.