An Outdoorsman’s Journal
By: Mark Walters
A Cold Spring on the Mississippi
Hello friends: If you are a farmer, work outside construction, or an outdoor writer, this spring has been a tough one to get the job done. Rain, snow, always a solid wind and an air temp consistently 10-25 degrees below normal has been making it very difficult if not impossible to get the job done.
This week my plan was to paddle troll with my canoe on Lake Michigan, near Milwaukee, for salmon and brown trout. A never-ending wind killed that plan three times. With three days left before my deadline, I had a brainstorm. How about I explore the backwaters of the Mississippi River, near Trempealeau. I have duck hunted and winter camped this area but have not open water fished it, that is until this week.
Tuesday, April 26 High 36, low 25
As I drove into Trempealeau today it was snowing. I launched my canoe and began paddling downstream in a 100% uninhabited area, at least as far as humans are concerned, then a northwest wind and current pushed my 17-foot canoe so that all I had to do was control it.
My plan was to put out a left and a right fishing pole with a planer board on each and a crankbait 5-20 feet behind each one. Due to the winter-type conditions, I figured the fish bite would not exist.
I had traveled maybe a mile when the board with a blaze orange/yellow husky jerk behind it vanished and my pole started bending. Fish number one was never seen, but fought well and got away. Fish number two came soon after, and hit the same rig. Shortly into the fight I was flying from a hard current and tail wind and I did a soft crash in a bed of last year’s wild rice, I then hand landed a 27-inch northern pike. Nothing mattered anymore, I had caught a fish! For the next three hours, I explored in an area where I have spent at least 60-nights of my life winter camping and had a nonstop show of water fowl, hard wind, and raw natural beauty. My second and last fish of the day hit the always reliable blue/chrome HJ12 and it was a 19-inch smallmouth bass. I built camp on a narrow island with the main channel ten feet from my bedroll and a waterfowl loaded backwaters 15-feet on the other side. I put out two poles with minnows on each and both tonight and the following morning neither was hit by a fish.
I had caught a chill, so naturally I opened a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, lit a fire, and watched the world around me. Towards dark I decided I needed to man up so I skipped the tent and slept in the open on the ground, that was a wise decision.
Wednesday, April 27 High 44, low 24 Here is a reality check as to how much worse things could be. The island I slept on was eroding; ever since beaver trapping as a sport has become less popular, the beaver population has exploded, and in this example the beavers were eating at every tree that holds this island together. Now in part because of the loss of root base, this island is eroding away.
Another example, I am a swallow that flew up from Texas to live here for the summer, raise a family and then head back to Texas. I eat flying insects and the only thing flying in the air is snow, I am extremely hungry, it is the only time of the year I get any action from Mrs. Swallow, and I have zero energy!
Today I watched a muskrat hanging out in this patch of rotting wild rice stalks, he was above water. About 5-feet above the water was a bald eagle and it was using a solid east wind to perfectly hover above Mr. Muskrat. I am totally amazed at how long the eagle could stay in one place.
With perfect precision the bird of prey flawlessly dropped onto its prey, was up in the air and flew to its nest without missing a beat.
This adventure was inexpensive, and I honestly think it was meant to be.
If you can’t make up your mind if your best friend is the fridge, your recliner or a screen, throw them all away and you will be better off than the island, the swallow or the muskrat! Sunset PS. A friend that was going to get one of Ruby’s pups that is now 5 weeks old had to back out. This male is a dandy, get a hold of me if you are interested!
This was Mark Walters camp on the Mississippi River near Trempealeau.
Extreme damage like this is being caused by an exploding beaver population.
A fine smallmouth bass caught by Mark Walters on the Mississippi River near Trempealeau.
