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
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 16, 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
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
Wednesday, February 11, 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
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
Thursday, February 5, 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
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
Tuesday, February 3, 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
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
Thursday, January 29, 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
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
Tuesday, January 27, 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
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
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