Muskie Hunting
I t was another one of those mid winter spring days with temperatures in the mid 60’s, sunny skies and stoneflies blanketing the river. I had some work to do early but knew I’d be busy later in the week and could barely concentrate today. The river levels looked good on the USGS graph, maybe a little low even and I knew it would be clear. I didn’t get off the computer till after 12 and didn’t see the water till around 2pm. One of my favorite spots is very tricky to launch a boat from alone, one could say even dangerous, especially with a prop tiller boat. I have to physically drag the boat off the trailer in waders at this ramp. I was second guessing myself at the ramp and the swift current. Plus I saw the DNR van with an empty trailer in the parking lot along with another DNR pickup truck with a tank in the bed attached to a NO2 canister. First I thought how cool, they are shocking fish. Then I thought, wait a minute…. This might not be a good thing. I hoped the boat had gone down river. Then my fears were confirmed. With only one boat in the lot, it happens to be an enormous electroshocking boat and this boat just so happens to be on one of my favorite spots within sight of the ramp frying the living daylights out of “My” fish. I get ready to launch, am right about to put in and here they come back to the ramp. There are two ramps, they could have used the downstream ramp but came in to the same ramp I was on. Sure enough it’s Mr. Mullican the muskie guru and another gentlemen. They told me they would wait to take out but I was a little hesitant. I might as well use this time to pick their brains a little.
I pulled down the ramp, sat there for a minute and pulled back out figuring I’d talk to them for a while and thought that at the very least they may have just alerted the fish in those key spots I was planning on fishing. I usually don’t like fishing behind another fishermen if I can avoid it, not to mention a fishermen using electricity capable of pricking every fish within a 20 foot radius around the boat. They might not catch every fish around their boat but they sure let them know something isn’t right and I wasn’t too sure how long it would take for the fish to settle down.
When I told one of the biologists I was thinking of going somewhere else because they had fished before me, they kind of laughed thinking I thought they just caught them all. They reported excellent catches of large, mature walleye as that was their target species for the survey at the time. Plus John told me they turned up incredible numbers of smallmouth as they are about at their peak with respect to numbers and the fact that the legendary 2007 smallmouth year class were all in the 12 to `15 inch size class now. The thought crossed my mind to chase the numerous large walleye around or even the smallmouth but I wanted a lunge today. I’ve had more than a few skunks lately, so many I don’t want to admit it, I haven’t put one in the boat since last July! The reports I’ve read with this eternal spring like temperatures are that the muskie are as hot as the June Blitz. Why can’t I put it together? The answer is rather simple, I’ve been targeting the wrong water lately.
So I picked up and headed to another spot a few minutes down the road. Okay, more like 20. It was 3:30pm and I’m finally fishing. At 4:05 I have a follow over 20 feet of water. This fish is hot and is keeping pace rather well. It startled me like they always do but I somehow kept my cool and dropped into a figure 8. I’ve never had one not spook as I frantically drop into an 8. Usually they see me react or see the boat and quickly turn away. Or they smash it as soon as I first change direction. Well, this fish stayed with the 9 inch crank bait like a kitten on a string. Three times we go around and around, and every time the fish looks like it is slowing down, only to explode on it on the turn. But by the fourth time around I lose sight of him. My figure 8 was too shallow so I dropped my rod all the way to the reel and rip as hard as I could after the turn. The second time I do that my rod violently stops. FISH ON! Incredible to see that happen in clear water. The fish first head shakes a little, then wakes up and cartwheels at the boat three times, each time seemingly getting further and further out of the water. This is February, did someone forget to tell the fish they are not suppose to jump in the winter?! I hadn’t even had time to set up my net. I remember looking at it on one of my casts and saying to myself, you should probably assemble the net Jon. After a few good runs I have the fish kind of calm at the boat which gives me a few seconds to grab the net and engage the pin. I have finally done this a few times before so I don’t make any stupid net swipes when the fish is still green. I wait for the perfect opportunity and seal the deal. Success tastes so sweet. I get a picture of the fish in the net with my phone, even though I have a good camera on me and a good position to get a timer photo but chose to release it as quickly as possible. The fish was just shy of my 40 inch mark on my bench seat, a very respectable fish for sure and a strong release. Life is good. I could have left then and been home in time to pick up my son but my wife had given me the go ahead. Why not.
Later I’m playing with a 4oz bull dawg, the shallow version that sinks far too slowly. It’s near dusk now and I’m drifting over some deep calm water, past the ideal structure or so I thought. I try a few different retrieves with the dog, not a lot of confidence with it as I just can’t seem to work it deep enough for very long. It needs more weight. If it were a 4oz jig head through the plastic it would sink like a rock in 60 feet and a 5kt current but those dawgs have such a large profile of plastic that they have just too much surface area and are not aerodynamic in the least. They sink more like a leaf than any 4 oz lure I’ve ever thrown. Well, in the final sight fishing light I see a shape of a fish hanging far and below the lure. IT’s the kind of fish that haunts every muskie angler’s dreams. This fish looked to have the girth of one of those immensely pregnant fat cow migratory stripers that makes an appearance in the lower river once a year for merely a week. I’ve held fish that size before, the kind of hold you need two hands to cradle the fish up against your chest with the belly dropping below your belt line. I needed my lure to go deeper or I needed to be able to drop into a figure 8 immediately but I still had at least 10 feet of line out. I tried to jerk the bait one last time to elect a response. Or maybe that’s what I should have done. I think I just froze as my knees began to shake. Maybe I stepped off my bench to the floor of the boat and stopped the lure in its tracks to try and get a little more depth. Whatever I did, the fish wasn’t having it. It slammed on the brakes, turned, gave me one last look and bolted to the deep. So much for making it home in time for dinner. I tried every different style of lure I had. Even the $30 sebile fast sink magic swimmer that should be in a plaque above my fire place, not on the end of my line over 14 feet of water strewn with tackle devouring rock ledges. With the speed the first fish came into attack my lure and the speed the leviathan departed my life, the thought of top water even crossed my mind but I just wasn’t that stupid. Or was I? I’ll never know. One fish in the boat and a follow from a fish that will forever keep me on my toes and has just restored another 1000 hours of confidence, I’d say today was a good day. Made it home in time for the last of the pizza and watched the second half of ET with the kids. I told my five year old I saw a fish bigger than him today. How cool would it be to have a picture of those two over my fire place? Ryan, what are you doing this weekend?
