LATE ICE ON LITTLE BAY DE NOC - MI

Dateline: Little Bay de Noc near Gladstone, MI, 3-14-09

SEE THE “NOTES” AT THE END OF THIS PIECE FOR AN EXPLANATION OF THE TERMS USED HERE. THIS REPORT CONTAINS DETAILS ABOUT TWO ICE FISHING TRIPS ON SUBSEQUENT SATURDAYS.

I spent the morning chasing perch today, with fairly good results. Stopped at Bay View for wigglers, 2" minnows, waxies, and spikes before sunrise. Two of us drove north, heading out from the yellow gate access. We set up in 13' of water over the old weedbeds, The final tally was 22 keepers for about fifty fish landed. No real jumbos, but the ones we kept were just right for eating. The best presentation was a single wiggler on a thin wire hook and split shot at first, but changed to a single waxworm on the same rig later. I caught a few nice perch using a one-inch soft plastic crayfish in brown color on a 1/32 ounce jig - no live bait. We had to pay extremely close attention due to very light hits. We missed many, many fish the just fooled around with the bait. We each missed fish that felt heavier, but I'm not sure what they were. As a side note, the entrance road is very rutted and the shallows close to shore were in bad shape but passable with 4WD. Won't last much longer even if the ice out on the bay is over 30" thick.

Dateline: Little Bay de Noc near Gladstone, MI, 3-21-09

Today's perch expedition was almost a re-run of last weekends trip. Started at Bay View with fresh waxies, wigglers, spikes and 2" minnows. We walked out from yellow gate and set up in nine feet. The walk was not too strenuous. Some bad ice near shore. Road leading in is badly rutted. We had the camera and set it up in the shallows. Almost immediately, a walleye stopped for a look, followed by a pike. We tried for perch a while longer, but got no takers. Too many predators. After that we trudged out to fifteen feet and saw perch right away. We were one-half mile from shore. I'm sure because we drove to this spot previously and measured it on the trip mileage screen. The bite was fairly steady and we landed probably forty fish with ten keepers. Another walleye stopped by, but the perch returned quickly. We didn't have much time, so we started taking in lines. As the last waxworm and small jig combination was about to be reeled in a large pike head showed up on the screen and he inhaled the tidbit. My friend Duane had a strong two-second pull, one head shake, and it was all over. The pike snipped the line as they usually do in this situation. It was a great way to end the trip! Again, finesse presentation was necessary. Perch would grab only tiny jigs or plain hooks with a single waxie, or three spikes. They would not take minnows, and just played with wigglers. We could see them biting and re-acting to our baits. Good learning experience.

Notes:

“Bay View” is a local baitshop in Gladstone, MI owned by a friend, Chris Wahl.

“Spikes” are common maggots, used as ice fishing baits.

“Waxies” or “Waxworms” are beemoth larva, and look like white grubs found in lawns during warm weather.

“Wigglers” are hexagenia nymphs which look like tiny one-to two inch scorpions. They don’t bite, and are commonly used as ice fishing bait.

The camera I refer to is an underwater camera that is lowered down to bottom and allows the fisherman to watch his baits on a five-inch, black and white screen. You can see fish approach and hit your baits.

“4WD” means a four-wheel drive vehicle.

“Yellow Gate” is a public access point north of Gladstone, on Little Bay de Noc in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

On the 3-14 trip, Duane and I drove my truck directly out to the ice fishing destination on the ice and setting up the gear was easy. By 3-21 the ice had deteriorated near shore and we had to walk out to the spot pulling our gear on flat-bottomed ice sleds.

DEALING WITH ETHANOL-BASED FUEL PROBLEMS

DEALING WITH ETHANOL-BASED FUEL PROBLEMS


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SHORT TRIP FOR WALLEYE

SHORT TRIP FOR WALLEYE

Dateline: Little Bay de Noc near Escanaba, Michigan; 2-28-09


I had very little time to fish today. A friend and his son visiting from Wisconsin had just three hours to tag along this morning, as we took a stab at some walleye action on the Bay.

After setting up and with travel time we would have about two hours to tempt the walleyes I know from experience frequent this area in the late season. We stopped at Bay View Baitshop for a non-resident license and some three-inch shiner minnows. I had an all-terrain vehicle available from another friend who lives near the mouth of the Escanaba River, and I had a freight sled we could pull behind the machine, so we fished there.

My friend sat on the cargo rack on the back of the ATV, and his son sat in the sled along with the gear we would need to fish with. The permanent shanty we would use was located just north of the river mouth, so we headed out on a slow, bumpy ride across the ice.

A powerful wind storm sculpted the bay with great snow drifts just two days prior to this trip. Looking at some of these natural creations as we entered the bay made me hesitate to blast through them on the machine. Off to the north, lay a long line of snow dunes that looked like a frozen scene from the Sahara. Eastward, spiked snow drifts looked like miniature mountains. Scalloped snow swirls to the south reminded me of icing on an angel food cake.

An unexpected development earlier in the week gave my confidence a boost. Officers from the Department of Natural Resources broke up a large-scale poaching ring running two thousand feet of illegal nets nearby that may have been hauling out hundreds of fish daily. Apparently, the poachers had been working at night. We knew our catch rate had been down this season in this area, but we did not know why. This unexpected bust could only help our fishing.

The shanty was set along an underwater slope leading to the actual river mouth. Logs, boulders, ship staves, and many other objects that had washed down with the current provided bottom cover. I set my friend up with a Jigging Rapala tipped with a minnow tail, and rigged a slip float for his son, set at two feet above bottom. By letting the jigging lure fall to bottom and bouncing it there several times a cloud of sediment would raise up, which can attract passing fish. After bumping bottom several times, the lure is raised up about three feet and jigged at that level. I used a similar tactic with a bright orange lure while he used a “clown” colored style (white, with red and blue spots).

Within the first hour my friend landed a 25" slab sided walleye from 24 feet of water. The fish was very chunky and solid for this length. We could see it coming up from the depths in the Bay’s ultra-clear water. I gaffed the fish since trying to grab one that size at the hole by hand often lets them escape. Before the two-hour time frame was up we missed one additional fish that hit but failed to hook up solidly. Action was slow, but at least we managed one very nice fish.

Later at home I filleted it and found it was a large male. Its stomach was empty, which surprised me since it looked like it must have been stuffed with gobies or something. I’ll be returning to the river mouth this week to see if normal fish movements resume now that the nets have been removed. This is the first year the walleye season has been extended until March 15 here in the Upper Peninsula, and I’m happy to take advantage of it. Meanwhile my friend was returning to the Rhinelander area with the fillets packaged and in a cooler. He intended to cook them later that evening.


Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

OBSERVATIONS FROM MICHIGAN

OBSERVATIONS FROM MICHIGAN
By: Ray Hansen

This is a great time to head for the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The lakes are frozen and getting out to the perch, whitefish, walleye, pike, and burbot spots is easy. This year, walleye and pike season extends until March 15.

Ice fishing in relatively balmy temperatures of 20 to 35 degrees is common at this time, as are late season snowfalls that cover some potentially dangerous spots. Keep your eyes open and fish with a friend at all times. Wear a set of ice picks, and carry a length of rope where it is easily accessible. Having said that, as of this writing in late February, the ice I fished on the north end of Little Bay de Noc a couple days ago was still thirty inches thick. Most anglers are still driving trucks out on the ice, but that won’t last too much longer. Think safety first as the season extends into March.

Keep your tackle selection light and portable. A size two Swedish Pimple spoon loaded with spikes (maggots) will catch perch all day. A couple rods, one small box with a few different color spoons, a skimmer, a locator, your bait, and a sled to pull along is just about all you need.

Deer are everywhere, looking for a change from the woody browse that keeps them alive during the winter. I have them in my yard daily, scrounging for tidbits I feed the local turkey flock with.

Logging operations cutting white cedar and other trees attract many whitetails. Deer eat the cedar tips like it is cotton candy. Maple and oak tips, poplar, and some osier dogwood rounded out the feast. Deer eat these things all winter long, but the difference here was that they could get to the tender tips of new, younger branches once the trees are down. Normally, they are restricted to standing on their hind legs and browsing up as high as they can reach during the winter in areas where no cutting takes place. They can’t reach the best browse in this way.

Turkeys flock everywhere. I honestly saw some birds gathered in groups of fifty or more. I watched a neat “parade” of the big birds at my friend Duane Deno’s house in Gladstone, Michigan. Here the turkeys wander the neighborhoods, trotting from one bird feeder to another looking for any spillage. Some people feed them whole kernel corn, and all Duane had to do was rattle some dried corn in a plastic bucket to get them to approach within six feet or so. I have had a flock numbering about sixty birds in my yard in Cornell, Michigan but most days about twenty show up.

Finally, the Escanaba River is still frozen on the mid to upper stretches, and cross-country skiing is possible along the main channel. Traversing this beautiful waterway is like stepping into a “coffee table” style photo book. Each bend and turn presents a new vista, and when I walk along a portion of the river with a lone eagle soaring overhead I realize it doesn’t get much better than this.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

BIG PERCH POTENTIAL IN THE U.P.

BIG PERCH POTENTIAL IN THE U.P.
Premier Upper Peninsula Panfishng
By: Ray Hansen

Lake Gogebic is one of the largest inland bodies of water in the state of Michigan. Running in a north – south orientation, it extends over twenty miles in a long, narrow span of waters that consist of great shoreline related weedbeds, and massive flats in the fifteen to twenty-five foot range. While it holds walleyes, pike, smallmouth bass, and various panfish species, possibilities for big perch pulls anglers from throughout the Midwest. This is one of the few places I know of that can produce mounting-sized perch as large as two pounds on occasion. Its location in the western part of the Upper Peninsula places it in an ice fishing, snowmobiling,and winter sports paradise.

I’ll never say that catching big perch is consistently easy on this body of water, although it can be. A look at the many photos of pot-bellied panfish tacked to the walls of local baitshops will have you sharpening augers and rigging rods.

Since these fish are nomadic, roaming the deeper flats during the winter and vacuuming bloodworms, larva, minnows and small crayfish off bottom, you normally need to move frequently until you locate a school of biters. A portable shanty, especially one pulled behind an ATV, lets you check lots of territory, while running a locator to pinpoint potential hotspots. Most local lodges offer lake access, and state maintained access points at parks are found in several locations. I’ll pass along some website information later in this piece.

Since you are going to “run and gun” for panfish, I recommend a rig that lets you “shoot” a bait down to the deeper flats quickly. Set up a short spinning rod (18” – 24” in length) with a small reel spooled with tough, thin, four pound test monofilament line. Tie on a size two or three “Swedish Pimple” spoon, using the small treble hook it is packaged with. Impale a “wiggler” (mayfly larva) on one hook point, and add two “spikes” (maggots) on each of the remaining hook points.

Using a “combination” bait like this offers a solid advantage: if a perch hits the wiggler but fails to hook up solidly, the wiggler is almost certainly pulled off the hook. With the spikes still there however, you have a “back-up” bait that continues to work for you. Add that to the spoon’s natural attraction and ability to get down to the “strike zone” quickly, and you have a winning combination. You need this kind of advantage while prospecting for perch.

Try the following websites for more information about the Lake Gogebic area: www.uptravel.com; www.lakegogebic.com; and www.upnorthfishing.com. Once this lake locks up solidly with safe ice, winter fishing opportunities can extend through a much longer season that waters found further south. You’ll enjoy the experience!
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

SOUND OF FORMING ICE

SOUND OF FORMING ICE
By: Ray Hansen

Sounds like one of those conundrums doesn’t it? The sound of forming ice. Like the sound of one hand clapping, or the proverbial tree falling in the forest if no-one is there to hear it. But ice does make a sound when it forms, and I have heard it.

I was hunting deer during the mid-November rifle season on the Stonington Peninsula in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, in a semi-remote part of the Hiawatha National Forest. Temperatures hovered between zero and ten below for three days, under absolute dead calm. This area juts out into Lake Michigan and is surrounded by the big waters on all sides.

Earlier that year I scouted this section of forest, and pulled together some logs, dead pine branches, leaves, sticks, and other debris into several ground blinds where I could sit to take in the silence and watch for deer. I liked being partially concealed – I needed to remain undetected to have any chance against super-sensitive whitetails.

This was a place where a few big, wise bucks used the vast woodland to stay safe. No farm fields concentrated deer anywhere within miles of this spot. Only some logged areas might attract animals, and bucks would be making loops through the woods in search of does during this time of the annual rut. That was just about the only way they would make a mistake, and the only chance I had to see one that offered a clean shot was to park myself in a place they might cross.

So I sat, hour after hour, bundled in multiple layers of cold weather gear. An adult doe and two young deer were hanging around, and I hoped a buck would show to check her out.

Sometime late on the first day, I became aware of a low, constant sort of rumbling sound. I could not pinpoint where it originated from, but that was not unusual in the big woods. I first speculated that it was a county road grader far off in the distance. I thought it might be rolling along the gravel roads on the peninsula at a slow, steady creeping speed to grind down the “washboards” these dirt roads developed over time.

By the second day, I abandoned this theory, because the sound remained constant and I still could not tell which direction it came from. A grader would have moved by this time. The rumbling continued, broken only by the occasional hooting of great horned owls, and the lyric, almost mystical variety of calls created by ravens soaring through the frigid air just above tree-top level.

On the third day, a realization slowly enveloped me: I was hearing the ice form out on the big waters of Lake Michigan. The open water on the bays lay flat calm and exposed to the air with its deadly freezing temperature. Ice crystals formed immediately, and the almost imperceptible swells caused by tiny tides, currents, and other natural water movements cracked, stretched, and splintered the forming skim ice. The sound was that of the fracturing ice crystals amplified by thousands of acres of freezing water surrounding the peninsula I hunted on.

The one - and probably only - set of weather conditions that provided freezing water, combined with a lack of competing sounds, prevailed long enough to allow me to hear and finally identify its source. And to me, it was a chance to witness the sound of The Universe going about its business.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

CHUMMING FOR FISH

CHUMMING FOR FISH
By: Ray Hansen

Chumming – using some type of bait or scent at attempt to attract fish to a certain spot – has been used by winter anglers for many years. I’ve seen some fairly unusual practices, and others that were simply clever.

Old-timers on the Fox Chain-O-Lakes in northeastern Illinois (and many other places, I’m sure) would eat hard-boiled eggs while fishing, and drop tiny pieces of egg shell into the water. Others swore by sardine tails dropped into the hole after eating the rest of the oily treat. I’ve also seen anglers eat sardines and save the tin with oil in the bottom. This was placed on the ice, and their lures dipped in the oil before fishing with them.

Using the “sardine scent” was a precursor to the practice of using commercially available fish attractant scent commonly sold in baitshops. In fact, some anglers squirt scent of one sort or another on their ice fishing lures as a standard practice. They hope that releasing the scent triggers a feeding response in nearby fish. A related practice is to place a sponge inside a small wire mesh enclosure and tying a heavy line to it. This is lowered down to bottom occasionally, in hopes of arousing fish to bite.

A trick I’ve used many times is to squirt scent into a storage container of “old-fashioned style” oatmeal flakes. The “salted” flakes are then tossed into the water a pinch at a time. They swing side to side while sinking, and release scent while dropping. Both the motion and aroma may be attractive to fish. They eat it too. I’ve found it in perch cleaned after ice fishing.

Sometimes things get a little silly. Life-long friend Duane Deno and I recently dropped a few tiny pieces of his home-made venison sausage to the water while perch fishing on Little Bay De Noc in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We made a respectable catch, and of course he took credit for the feat, claiming that his sausage “was totally irresistible to fish” and that it would be “irresponsible for us to use more than a tiny amount, since every fish for hundreds of yards around would crowd into our spot”.

As strong as the bite was while we fished, I’m not sure he was totally wrong!

So chumming can add to the enjoyment you receive from a day on the ice. You do need to check local regulations however. Some places have restrictions on what is allowable, and of course you need to exercise common sense.

And bring along some venison sausage!
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

ALBINO BAY DE NOC BURBOT CAUGHT

ALBINO BAY DE NOC BURBOT CAUGHT
By: Ray Hansen

I have mentioned fishing for burbot on Little Bay de Noc in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula several times. This is a time of year when they are commonly caught in northern waters. These primitive fish are also called eelpout, and have a long dorsal fin extending to the tail that can make them look like an eel. Local anglers like them because they eat gobies which threaten to overpopulate the Great Lakes, and because the burbot can be cooked as a dish called “poor man’s lobster”
which I have enjoyed.

In 2007, John Katarincic of Gladstone, Michigan caught an albino burbot from Little Bay de Noc off Kipling, Michigan while fishing for walleyes in 26 feet of water. The bizarrely colored fish measured over 28 inches in length, and was brought to the Escanaba office of the Department of Natural Resources where it was checked by biologist Darren Kramer.

Katarincic said he thought he had hooked a big walleye, but was not disappointed by his unusual catch. Many anglers target these fish during mid-February since they can be very active biters at this time of year, and are attracted to “glow” style lures tipped with minnows.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

FLYING ACROSS THE SNOW

FLYING ACROSS THE SNOW
By: Ray Hansen

We have had a run of brutally cold weather here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The ambient temperature was seventeen below zero last Sunday night when I returned from an ice fishing trip here on Little Bay de Noc. This is the kind of weather that firms up the snow base and makes the local snowmobile trails a lot of fun to play on. I don’t do too much trail riding on these machines, but occasionally have the opportunity.

A friend and I had trouble starting his two snowmobiles in the extreme cold temperatures we encountered in Rhinelander, Wisconsin on a recent ice fishing trip. Once the machines warmed enough to idle without us having the keep our thumbs on the throttles, they proved ready to respond and would restart easily if we shut them off.

This trip was to be one in which he and I roamed relatively shallow lakes in search of mid-winter pike and panfish. We did it two years ago with good results, and hoped to enjoy a replay of the excitement from the previous excursion.

To be able to zip from place to place, we used the two Polaris snowmobiles he keeps stored in Wisconsin. These machines are nothing short of amazing. I quickly found that they would go a lot faster than I cared to attempt.

While I am not an experienced snowmobiler, I’ve spent a fair amount of time astride a Harley-Davidson. I have also enjoyed some dirt-biking, and I ride a Honda all terrain vehicle each year while deer hunting. The snow machines however, are really suited to the conditions and a type of terrain no other vehicle can conquer.

At twenty miles an hour, I slowly cruised the frozen lakes and woodland trails connecting various bodies of water. The pace allowed me to see lots of detail, and feel that I was in control of my ride. I saw interesting homes, great looking patches of woods, and other sights that made me appreciate this northwoods experience.

At thirty m.p.h., I felt the jarring of snow clumps, old snowmobile tracks, and old ice fishing holes I blasted across. I could not spend much time sightseeing. Anything I wanted to study closer required that I back off the throttle at least momentarily.

At forty m.p.h., I had to concentrate on strictly on steering the machine, and to watch that no stumps, bumps, or humps launched me airborne. Turns were made gradually, and I had the constant feeling that I was going just about as fast as I could safely travel – as long as I focused solely on controlling the machine and did not steal a glance at any of the surroundings.

Of course, experienced snowmobilers cite times and places where they had reached speeds much higher than I dared to try at my level of competence. Tales of triple-digit speeds left me wondering how it was possible to keep the machine in even occasional contact with the snow at that pace.

I saw just enough of the “snowmobile culture” in Rhinelander to begin to understand its appeal. Some great trail food, magnificent scenery, the opportunity to jump from lake to lake with a little fishing at each, and shutting off the machines at a hill far from town to listen to a coyote chorus from a nearby swamp at night made using the machines unforgettable. I’ll be back.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

WINTER WONDERS IN THE NORTHWOODS

WINTER WONDERS IN THE NORTHWOODS
By: Ray Hansen

While hunting the Channing / Sagola area of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I once saw a Fisher lope across an old logging with its odd, sinuous gait. A sleek dark brown to black body about three feet in length (including the long tail) contrasted with its white-streaked head. Strangely, it startled me, like suddenly seeing a snake will do. I was in a tree stand, and it posed no danger. I’m sure if it had been aware I was a round I would never have seen it.

Fishers don’t fish. Their relatives, the more common mink rely on fish for much of their diet, but not these larger creatures. Hunters who watch for deer from elevated tree stands during the fall and winter often notice a sudden decrease in the local red squirrel population. The fisher will stay around until these tasty little treats are all caught, then move on. Don’t worry about the squirrels though. They quickly re-populate.

The fisher is one of the few animals that will take on a porcupine. They are said to take them face on, grabbing the porcupines snout and holding on until they can work their way down to the throat for the kill. You may find the ‘pine’s skin in the woods, feet up, with the edible parts removed from the inside starting at the soft belly, which is not protected by deadly quills. I have found deceased porcupines in this condition, usually in the winter.

Seeing one of these graceful predators while hunting is a rare, but fascinating sight. After a day in the woods, the experience makes a good story to relate around the night’s campfire.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

GLOW BAITS GRAB ATTENTION

GLOW BAITS GRAB ATTENTION
Bay de Noc Burbot and Walleye Opportunity
By: Ray Hansen

Burbot or Eelpout are not a fish targeted by many winter anglers, but those who know where and how to catch them rave about their fighting qualities, and the ability to make a dish called “Poor Man’s Lobster” from them.

Little Bay de Noc in Delta County Michigan provides an excellent opportunity to catch these fish through the ice, and action often peaks for a while around mid-February. Chris Wahl, owner of Bay View Sports in Gladstone, Michigan (www.baydenoc.com/bayviewsports) chases these fish each year, and is a wealth of local information about how to proceed.

Chris reports that “glow” baits like the locally produced Swedish Pimple Spoon, the Buckshot Rattle Spoon, Rapala Jigger Shad, and simple live bait rigs with a “glow-stick” attached to the line near the bait (minnows are best) can do the trick. He often works the long drop-offs on the bay near his shop on Highway 2 / 41, concentrating on depths of 25 to 38 feet of water. Night produces the best bite, so you can tailor your ice fishing trips to be on a potentially good walleye spot at the prime bite just before and after sunset, then continue on into the night with the expectation of burbot action.

Incidentally, Chris says that many anglers are somewhat repulsed at the sight of a wriggling burbot on their lines because they look like an eel. He cautions ice fishermen to release them carefully however, because they are “gobie eating machines”. Area anglers have seen the non-native gobies populate the bay over the years, and welcome any fish that will consume them.

Little Bay de Noc is actually the northernmost portion of Lake Michigan, on the Great Lakes. Excellent fishing for northern pike, perch, smallmouth bass, walleye, salmon, trout, and many other species can be found there throughout the year. Check www.baydenoc.com for details about area attractions, lodging, and related information.

Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

COYOTES IN THE DARK

Author's note: The predator hunting season has started here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The following account tells of one experience I had with a pack of coyotes.

COYOTES IN THE DARK
By: Ray Hansen

Venturing out into the woods in the dark can produce all sorts of adventures. Most are not dangerous, but many will get your heart going or provide a shot of adrenaline. As hunters, most of us will walk out to stands well before sunrise, or trudge back to camp in the dark well after sunset. At these times, humans lose many of the advantages they have during the hours of daylight. Animals generally see, hear, and smell better once it is dark.

One morning I was silently slipping along a trail through hardwood ridges on a moonless night about an hour before sunrise. I had a ground blind made of natural materials on a good spot and I wanted to be there before any other hunters moved through the area, so that when they did show up, they might move deer past me. To get this advantage, I had to be very quiet and that meant going slower than usual. I also had to get there early, so I allowed plenty of time for the hike.

At the half-way point, the trail ran along the top edge of a steep bank that dropped almost vertically into a deep creek. As I walked through this stretch, a pack of coyotes suddenly began chasing a deer, and they were close! Yipping, wailing, and barking, they pushed the panicked animal toward the trail where they would have an advantage in being able to run faster without having to dodge and twist through the heavier cover in the woods.

Within seconds the deer would hit the trail, and would not likely leap over the steep embankment. Instead, I could tell it would turn either east and run past me, or west, and move farther away from where I stood.

Heart pumping, I jacked a round into the chamber of my pump-action slug gun – not that it would do me much good. I knew the coyotes were very unlikely to attack me. I just did not know what they would do if they suddenly ran into me on the same trail they chased the deer on. Maybe the sound of a shot would scatter them.

Within seconds, the deer burst out of the woods just yards from me. Turning west, it ran away from where I stood pointing the gun. The screaming pack of canines followed, and I simply stared out into the darkness, taking huge breaths as I tried to recover. The entire episode began very suddenly and was over in seconds.

The brush-wolves were simply doing what comes naturally to them – hunting deer. I was on my way to a spot deeper in the woods to do the same thing. That we almost crossed paths was purely a co-incidence. I’ve walked the same trail many times since, and have even heard other coyote packs chasing deer – just not that close. These are the types of outdoor experiences that always become good stories to tell around the campfire.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

THE DAY THE FISH GOT AWAY - Part three

Author's note: This is the final part of the series I started Monday. I hope you have enjoyed it.

It was one-thirty in the afternoon when we got situated. Within the first half-hour something slammed a rod downward that I had balanced on a bucket while changing baits on another. It hit like a small pike does, slashing past, grabbing the bait like a running thief grabbing an apple off a fruit wagon without stopping. I missed that fish as well, and that’s when we packed it in for the day.

On the way back to the truck, we detoured past an eighty-acre island surrounded by marshlands with plenty of cat-tails and open areas between brushy pockets of cover. An ancient railroad grade crossed the island diagonally like the spine on a razorback hog. I once stalked to within twenty-five yards of two bedded deer on this island while hunting with a bow along the elevated trackway. Thick brush along its sides however, prevented me from getting a clear shot, and the deer soon bounded away.

We found several sets of coyote tracks leading into the interior, so we put together two brush blinds on the perimeter where we could hide while using predator calls and rabbit decoys to try to get the brush-wolves to show themselves. We’ll come back with small caliber rifles in late January when the coyotes are always hungry. I would like to get a big pelt to hang on the wall along with mounted fish and deer antlers.

As for today’s fishing, I enjoyed the experience despite the meager results. I’m lucky to be living in an area where I can enjoy the outdoors as often as I do, and we’ll have ice into April on the bays around here. I’ve got plenty of time to explore new areas and look for new ice-fishing adventures. And you can be sure I’ll have some new stories to tell around the campfire.

Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

THE DAY THE FISH GOT AWAY - Part two

Author's note: This is part two of a blog that details one recent day of ice fishing on Little Bay de Noc in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. The final installment will be posted tomorrow evening.


We set up the shanty directly at the point where the drop-off leveled out onto the flat. I baited a double-hook minnow rig with one flashy three-inch shiner at one foot off bottom and another at three feet up. That rod had a spring-steel strike indicator on the tip and I set it in a holder so it could work itself while a readied a second rig for perch. This one had a bright gold spoon as an attractor, a two-inch clear leader off the spoon, and a bright orange, needle-sharp plain hook on the end of the leader. It was baited with a live wiggler and lowered down so it rested just above the boulders.

I settled in to work the perch rig by lightly jigging it, while the walleye rig worked itself. The two shiner minnows swam around, keeping the strike indicator dancing lightly. After a while, the spring steel on the tip of the double-hook rig bent downward very slowly, which told me a fish was mouthing the bait. I rested the perch rig on the edge of the seat and took the other rod in hand. I lowered the rod tip for a few seconds to let the fish get the minnow fully, then I raised the rod tip until I started to feel the weight of the fish.

I was sure I’d set the hook into a walleye, but when I snapped the rod upward, the perch rod shot downward, falling to the floor. I grabbed for it while continuing to raise the other rod. Almost instantly I realized that whatever took the shiner minnow had crossed the line on the wiggler rig. The two were tangled! I tried to open the bail on the second rod so I would have a chance to land the other fish, but it just didn’t work. Whatever hit the shiner rig was gone and that was that!

While this was going on, Duane tried to quickly reel in his lines, and possibly take the perch rig from my side of the shanty, but it all happened quickly and we did not salvage anything from the brief flurry of excitement.

After a couple hours or so we had no more action on that spot, so we moved up to the weed edge on top of the underwater slope. There we could easily see the bottom in ten feet of water and we sight-fished small ice lures tipped with wigglers for perch, but had absolutely no action.

O.K., if nothing was going on shallow or at the base of the drop-off, we decided to head out to fifty feet of water east of the place we started and try for bigger perch from the depths. This was also the type of place whitefish sometimes hold in, so I put a simple split-shot and plain hook rig down, with the shot laying on bottom and the minnow swimming around it. This is generally the way whitefish like their bait presented.

Here again, we spent time trying to make something happen. I did see one fish approach on the screen of my locator and it may have picked up the minnow – the signal produced by my bait and that of the fish merged on the screen – but I did not get a good hookset. Too much stretch in fifty feet of four-pound test monofilament I guess. I also worked a deep-water perch rig baited with a wiggler here, but nothing bit.

We moved a few hundred yards at a time, working our way toward south toward the mouth of the Escanaba River, looking for roaming bands of perch, but it seemed that when we zigged, they zagged, when we hopped, they skipped. In the end our paths just didn’t cross. Arriving at the river mouth, we set up well out into the bay, because the constant flow of the river itself makes the ice there unstable. The mouth of the river forms a kind of broad delta that ranges from five to fourteen feet deep, then drops into twenty-six feet well out into the bay. That’s where we made a final attempt to salvage the day.

End of part two - check in tomorrow evening for part three.

Copyright Ray Hansen, 2009

THE DAY THE FISH GOT AWAY - Part one

THE DAY THE FISH GOT AWAY!
By: Ray Hansen

Dateline: Saturday, January 10, 2008 – Gladstone, Michigan

I chased fish all over the bay today but it was one of those tough times. Things just did not go right - on top of a tough bite – and I failed to land a fish for all the effort I put into looking for a few that would hit.

I started out in the darkness prior to sunrise with life-long friend Duane Deno of Gladstone, Michigan. We left from a lot he owns on the shores of Little Bay de Noc where we rode out onto the bay on his Honda four-wheeler. He drove and I sat backwards on the cargo rack on the back of the machine. We pulled a portable ice shack and all our fishing gear on a high-sided sled behind the all terrain vehicle like a small train with a couple boxcars behind it. I should have been swinging an old red lantern like a brakeman leaning out from the caboose.

Sunrise / moonset was spectacular. The sun brightened the eastern horizon into pink, orange, and mango streaks, as the moon touched the treeline to the west like a massive painted parchment pancake. It is at its closest approach to earth and has been putting on a show for the past few days. I’m sure astronomers worldwide have been seized with spasms of near-orgasmic delight in the past forty-eight hours or so by what they observe through telescopes trained on our celestial neighbor.

About 10 o’clock last night Kate and I went for a hike in the frigid woods around our home, just to experience this wonderful phenomenon. The moon was so bright it would have been possible to read a newspaper by moonlight alone. Almost no artificial lights exist nearby to compete with the intense lunar luminosity. We saw deer silhouetted against the snow as we made our way past hardwood ridges and spruce covered hillsides. In every direction snow crystals caught the moonlight, reflecting like tiny diamonds sprinkled along the path.

Anyway, Duane and I headed for an area we had not previously fished through the ice. Since we had taken walleyes there very late in the autumn season in open water, we figured we might still find them in the same location now that the lake was frozen. In most other years we had not been able to safely traverse the ice there until late January, but the freeze has been quite early this year. Just a few days ago an icebreaker passed this point and its course is still visible on the frozen bay as a jumble of clear, jagged ice like broken glass scattered along a highway after a crash.

In this spot, a sand and weed flat broke sharply at ten feet, descending into a thirty-five foot depression where a field of scattered boulders provided cover for perch, gobies, and various minnow species. Walleyes just had to be there, didn’t they? Duane and I were completely confident.

End of part one - check in tomorrow for part two

Copyright Ray Hansen, 2008

SEEING BITES WHEN ICE FISHING

SEEING BITES WHEN ICE FISHING
Tactics That Land More Fish
By: Ray Hansen

The season is on us, and for most upper Midwesterners, fishing trips between now and April mean walking out onto the frozen surface of a lake, drilling a hole, and trying to entice fish from the icy depths. People not familiar with modern ice fishing techniques often express surprise at how good the bite can be.

Despite the advancements made in gear however, it is up to the individual to pay attention while fishing, and those who watch closest, make the best catch.

Take the simple matter of knowing when a fish is biting. While a number of “bite detection” systems exist. Perhaps the most common is to attach a short strip of spring steel with an eye on it to the end of your ice rod. These attachments are sold wherever winter tackle is available.

Typically, anglers hand-hold the rod, or place it in a holder so the tip is centered over the hole in the ice. The thin sliver of steel reacts to very slight movements, and when it moves (either up or down) you probably have a fish mouthing your bait. Staring intently at the steel tip is the best way to make sure you don’t miss anything.

Wind is an enemy of anglers using spring steel “strike indicators”. It moves the steel, making it tough to tell what is going on below the ice. If nothing else, ice fishermen are innovative, and ways to block the wind (aside from sitting inside a portable shanty) abound.

One of the best solutions is to get a round plastic container like a very small bucket, a piece of thin-walled plastic pipe, or a tub that margarine or detergent might be sold in. The diameter of the piece should be at least six inches (or larger if the hole you cut is larger). If you use a container, cut out the bottom so it is now open on both ends. Also cut a narrow “U” shaped slot in one side about half-way down from the top.

The rest is simple. Place the container over the hole in the ice with the opening of the slot facing up. This forms a wind-break around the tip of your rod when it is placed into the slot. Now the spring steel strike indicator stays motionless, and you can spot bites much easier.
Copyright Ray Hansen, 2008

SOMETHING WRONG AT THE RIDGE

SOMETHING WRONG AT THE RIDGE
By: Ray Hansen

We both knew something was wrong at The Ridge. We had always killed deer there, including Duane’s great nine-point buck, and we had watched many others at this natural crossing without drawing on them. Want some venison for camp meat? No problem! Use an antlerless tag on one of the does we commonly see there.
”The Ridge” was our name for a long narrow strip of higher ground bordered on the west by a twenty-acre patch of wet marsh, and on the east by a much larger jungle of tag alder, white cedar, and heavy brush. This was a natural travel route for local deer, and when the rut kicked in, bucks cruised through here regularly while patrolling doe groups. Big white cedars and spruce on this elevated runway offered good stand sites. This was the Upper Peninsula of Michigan at its best.

This particular season however, traffic was way down. Something had driven the deer toward alternate routes, and the few we saw were spooky. In camp between morning and afternoon hunts, Duane and I tried to figure out what happened.

For starters, we set out a trail camera, which quickly provided a clue. Six images of a large black bear showed up within two days. But bears by themselves don’t scare deer away. The whitetails may become a little more cautious when a bruin starts poking around their favored territory, but they will not abandon a home area that has served them well for years.

Knowing that the bear was close by made Duane and I pay closer attention while hunting and the photos motivated his brother Tom to apply for bear tags the following year. He ultimately shot a prime three-hundred pound boar close by.

In desperation, I left one of my stands early one morning to take a closer “CSI” look at the area immediately surrounding a stand I had on the ridge. I uncovered clue number two in this way. The carcass of a recently killed coyote lay sprawled in heavy cover just east of my stand. The male pack leader had died hard and fast. Its neck was snapped, ears standing upright, eyes open, and teeth bared in a perpetual snarl. I could visualize a 110 pound wolf grabbing the thirty pound canine by the neck and shaking it like a rag doll.

This find revealed that a pack of wolves was challenging their smaller relatives for hunting rights to the ridge. We later found canine tracks along an old logging road that confirmed recent wolf activity. Tom’s house backs up to a twenty acre field which is bordered by heavy woods with a creek meandering through the low areas. He’d been watching wolves through a spotting scope while they harassed resident deer.

So Duane and I knew what had altered deer movements, but one additional discovery cemented the knowledge that things would not return to normal for a while. One other camp was accessed by the same sand road we used to get to our spot. A “Y” in the road signals where a truck must turn to approach the other place. The owner, “Kenny”, stopped us a few days later to say that a juvenile mountain lion had crossed the road at the junction, only fifteen feet from him as he drove in. He wasn’t guessing about what he had seen. The cat paused in the headlights before jumping into the tag alders, giving Ken a good, broadside view. I can tell you that the long, sinuous tail on a lion cannot be mistaken for any other wild feline.

So, all the local predators knew about the deer traffic on The Ridge. That left Duane and I looking for other places deer had moved to. But… that’s part of the fun. Hunting areas change, and hunters adapt. Wolves, bears, mountain lions, and coyotes move on. Whitetails eventually return to old patterns, and I hope to be in a treestand on The Ridge when they do!

Copyright Ray Hansen, 2008.

ICE FISHING THIS MORNING 1-1-09

Happy New Year:

I'm not sure how you spent the first day of January, but I went out ice fishing with a friend before sunrise this morning. I was dressed like an Eskimo with multiple layers of clothes, insulated bib overalls and a long-tail, hooded parka, knit hat, knee-high felt-lined pac boots and more. We worked depths of 28 to 30 feet along a drop-off on the west side of Little Bay de Noc with three inch shiners we bought Friday evening and stored overnight. This is near my home in Delta County, Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

We took a chance, heading to a part of the bay that is usually not safe to fish until late January. It seemed that the cold weather we have had would have firmed up the ice down that way enough to make it safe. There were others out ahead of us, so we were not exactly riding into the unknown. We found the ice 8 to 10 inches thick, but a large coal boat had come through from open water farther south and broke a channel to the docks about a mile south of us. We rode on a Honda all terrain vehicle to cover some territory in our search for fish.

We landed just two walleyes, one 28" and another 21". Both hit Swedish Pimple spoons (Bay de Noc Tackle Company) tipped with the minnows in 28' to 30' of water. We took my portable shanty because we intended to move around and a portable makes this easier. We had trouble with the wind blowing the thin walls like sails and moving the shack a little. When both of us sat inside on overturned buckets, there was enough weight to keep it anchored, but when one stepped out it could shift position. Honestly, the bite was slow even though we managed a couple nice fish. The wind chill was bad and after shooting just six photos my fingers were stiff and the camera flashed a "low battey" signal. The strong south winds apparently blew water up under the ice and caused several heaves. The first major jolt we felt (and heard) was an extended rumbling boom that shook the shanty fairly hard. Later, another sharp jolt ran a six inch open water crack running right between the wheels of our ATV parked alongside the shanty. When we went out to investigate, we found that we were on a piece of ice about twenty feet by thirty feet or so that had broken free from the surroundings. Several other pieces were around us. Picture a jigsaw puzzle. We were on one of the pieces and surrounded by other pieces. There was no danger of drifting away, but if one of the pieces broke into smaller fragments, there could have been real trouble. We gathered our gear immediately and rode back to shore, crossing several open water cracks along the way. Obviously none of them were wide enough to prevent crossing, but they all allowed water to spout up onto the surface ice and all we could do was open the throttle a bit and fly through them spraying water all the way. We actually did not get wet, because the water froze on our gear fast enough to keep it from soaking through anything.

This area has the potential to be a real "big fish zone", but I guess we are going to have to wait a little longer before going out there again. I have fished there many times in the past, but never this early in the year. One of the fascinating aspects of this part of the bay is that there are several wooden shipwrecks on the bottom (I've seen underwater camera pictures of them) and the resulting bottom structure holds fish there in the jumbled stacks of wood and iron. Drifting through the area in a boat on a spring day is a lot more comfortable, but I wouldn't trade these winter fishing adventures for anything else!

Ray