Patience is a fisher’s most valuable asset

The hoar frost clung to the trees on our way to the lake. I commented to my buddy Lyle Johnson that whatever this winter ends up being, it has been a pretty one. Between the snow and ice glistening on the trees after the December storms, the number of days with hoar frost exceeds any other winter I recall in my lifetime.

The conditions on the ice were pretty good. Just reaching 20 degrees with light winds. We almost fished without the shelter but decided since we brought it, we might as well use it. It took a few minutes to set up and it stayed nice inside the shelter. We didn’t turn the heater on until the last 45 minutes of daylight.

We started marking fish almost immediately, but weren’t getting strikes. I set up a tip up for each of us and dead-sticked a crappie minnow.

We started experimenting with different jigs and baits. Lyle was using spikes and I was using waxies. I don’t recall all the different lures and colors we tried. I started with a white spoon with rattles. No response.

I switched to a gold spoon. The fish responded but wouldn’t pick up. I switched to a silver spoon; the same.

Imovedtoagreenandyellow jig with a waxy. Lyle had tried a bunch of other colors. The water was stained, dark, and had a lot of particles in it, so I went with the brighter jig. The fish responded and I even felt a light nibble.

The little buggers pulled the waxy off. The fish would respond to the jig but wouldn’t pick it up. I rebaited and sent the jig back down. They came into the jig, but this time with less action. The next time even less, and the time after that they would come to the jigging, but none of them would pick it up.

We were looking out every half minute or so to see that nothing had hit the tip ups. About 3:30 we heard a bunch of shouting and looked out to see some neighbors running to a tip up. They pulled an eater sized northern through the ice.

Fifteen minutes later the group behind us pulled a nice northern up from under the ice. About this time I tried the last color in my box, orange. I’ve had strikes from time to time on orange jigs, not on this lake, and I never caught enough fish on one to justify getting the knife dirty.

This time the fish swarmed the orange jig and started nibbling it. The second time I set the hook and up came a small crappie; the kind you know is going back in without thinking about it. The tip ups were still just sitting there.

Lyle was starting to see action on his jig too when I set the hook on a cigar perch. We played around like this until we decided to pack up just before five. We checked the tip ups one last time - nothing. After finishing breaking down the shelter a minute later, a flag was sprung. I reached the tip up and pulled it from the hole and line started spooling. I set the hook and pulled it in. It had taken a fair amount of line on its first run, maybe 20 yards. Up from the ice came an eater size northern. It reminded me of a time that after a day floating on the Dead Sea and landing the boat, Lyle made a single cast from the dock hooking a 30 inch northern. It was a pretty catch This northern was prettier than the hoar frost.

One last reminder that the public comment period on the proposed wolf management plan ends soon. If you haven’t commented and want to, please do. The thing to remember is that we will always have wolves. There will be a wolf management plan and wolves have friends. It’s a sure bet that the people supporting the plan as written from urban areas want more wolves without any harvest of wolves. They’ll be putting in their two cents.

The importance of hunters and fishers being active in these processes is best shown with the petition filed by the antihunting group Center for Biological Diversity to ban the use of dogs for hunting in the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest in Wisconsin on January 19 of this year. They’re counting on us not saying anything.

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