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Finding peace of mind on the end of a fishing line

Finding peace of mind on the end of a fishing line Finding peace of mind on the end of a fishing line

The slight tap on the line was followed by a slightly heavier tap with just a touch of tension on the line and I set the hook. I could feel good resistance on the pole immediately, something that I had yet to feel this winter.

From the hole came a very nice bluegill, the kind that I talk about catching in my youth. The kind of bluegill that you need to fish outside of our area to find in abundance.

The kind that you put the belly on the fish at the base of your thumb and you can just get one knuckle of your middle finger over its back to hold it while removing the hook. I tossed him outside onto the ice. That fish was a healthy fish sandwich or taco in and of itself.

We had traveled a distance to fish that day. The first super nice day that I was actually off for this whole winter, the other couple I worked. If you’re wondering the lake I’ll say it wasn’t south of here. And farther then 15 minutes – wink, wink; it also wasn’t Lake Noquebay which has some of the best bluegill fishing of any lake I’ve ever fished on in my lifetime.

Every year I say I’m going to back there

DECOY’S

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and fish it, but even though I get close, it never seems to involve fishing. Maybe this will be the year.

The cool air from the door flap felt good as I tossed that fish out. I was down to my teeshirt and jeans with beads of sweat forming on my forehead and my fishing partner kept asking me to turn the heater up. The next bluegill that I hooked I didn’t need to travel for, could have caught that anywhere, and it went back into the hole.

So did the next, kind of the like the rest of this winter.

That’s when my mind wanders. There seem to be a lot of issues in the hunter’s world that pop up this time of year. I wonder sometimes if it isn’t because once the season is over with that’s all there is. I certainly believe that of all the drama that takes place.

Seems the drama queens have migrated to social media. I always wonder why anyone sits around and argues with some faceless professional hunter type from Cleveland anyway, but to each their own. Not my circus, not my fleas. My mind snapped out of it as a slight tug was felt and I set the hook. It felt like a small bluegill but didn’t exactly fight like a gill. It loaded up the rod a bit and finally I could feel a little weight. A beautiful crappie came out of the hole and onto the ice. It measured twelve and an eighth when I cleaned it. The cool air felt like salvation when I tossed it out, so I followed it out in my T-shirt. It might have been 41 degrees but a sweat moistened shirt in a 15 mph wind is cold. Someone yelled from their shelter if I was hot. Someone else stated that’s why they don’t fish with their wife and they all found that funny - including my wife.

After a bit I crawled back into the sauna and sat down for some peace and quiet. The “guys” kept yelling out every time they hooked one: “bluegill, just a small one”, “got a small crappie”, “another small perch.”

And you thought I was going to say that my wife was breaking the silence talking about the rings in the ice looking down the hole.

I was hoping for a pike to hit the minnow I was dead sticking or at least the tip up outside the shack but no such luck. The minnow got pretty lively a couple of times but nothing picked up As darkness fell we were the only ones left on the lake and we packed up. They decided to gift me their fish saying they had cleaned enough fish this week already. There were some really nice perch caught – the kind that you definitely don’t catch around here. And a few other nice crappies and bluegill.

After a long drive home I had fish to clean. But I didn’t have to think about CWD or wolves for an entire day. I slept well that night dreaming about big bluegill, the kind I used to catch on Lake Noquebay.

K OLAR THROUGH A

LOCAL OUTDOORSMAN

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