“Slow and steady wins the race.” I’m a disciple of the philosophy. In real life, the examples are countless. Consider the marathoner. The guy who paces himself for 26.2 miles is sure to pass the jackrabbit before reaching the tape. Same can be said of investing. Principle plus interest plus time is a proven formula. Speculative get rich quick schemes seldom succeed.

Slip bobbers for crappies is always a winner in the spring. Think it’s hard to teach the “deadly drag” method to an adult? Try a kid... As evidenced by Calvin Vick’s humungous cold water crappie, though, patience has its rewards. Photo courtesy of Frabill (www.frabill.com).

This principle applies to fishing as well. Sometimes, neurotically motoring from spot to spot in whirlwind fashion produces fish – sometimes. More often, though, I adhere to the premise that you can’t get bit without a line in the water. Again, the turtle trumps the hare.

Same can be said of the retrieve. The tendency for many anglers, no matter the circumstances, is to burn the bait back to the boat, already envisioning the next cast before the current cast is fully realized. And in no situation is this more glaring than when battling cold water, springtime panfish.

Maybe the reason for all the rush is as basic as pent-up energy from a winter’s worth of ice fishing, or perhaps not fishing at all, electing to read about it in a recliner – shameful behavior. Regardless, fishing-feverishly-fast in the spring accomplishes nothing more than burning a bait over the snouts of fish that would have likely accepted something slower, more catchable.

Well, say hello to “dragging” and goodbye to speed fishing. As the name implies, the presentation is “dragged” past the fish, not rocketed like the mechanical rabbit at a dog track. The purpose is to offer a tantalizing, almost mesmerizing morsel to lethargic crappies. And everyone knows they’re notoriously stationary and moody in the spring.

Superstar guide Tom Neustrom is a staunch advocate of dragging. Decades on the water has taught him its effectiveness. Doggedness gives him the patience to produce the action, or more appropriately, lack of action.

“It’s probably the easiest technique you’ll ever use, but honestly, it’s one of the hardest to actually execute,” said Neustrom recognizing mankind’s nature to do things hurriedly. “Cast it out there. Take a deep breath. Set the rod down if you can’t help yourself from reeling.

Patience is one of the hardest things for an angler to learn…”

The Rig
So we know crappies are on the radar. (Note that the technique is effective on bluegills, too.) We also understand that patience is required to make it happen. Now it’s time to define the rig.

The fundamental rig is something you’ve definitely thrown before: a sliding or fixed float with a small jig or tube – nothing revolutionary. But, again, it’s the manner in which you play your hand that makes the difference.

Depending on the overall depth, Neustrom sets the distance between the bobber and bait anywhere from one to four feet. He explains: “The key is keeping the bait at or above the level the fishing are holding. If it’s eight feet deep, crappies will be suspended somewhere in the middle, and probably in the upper half of the water column.”

In this scenario, Neustrom sets his depth at two feet works his way down to four, if necessary, based on results. If crappies are in four feet of water, which isn’t unusual on a warm spring day, he fixes the float to a foot, maybe 18-inches, splitting the difference.

Back to the action – the “kick-back-and-relax” action. The rig touches down at the tail of a long cast – Neustrom operates as far from the boat as possible to keep from spooking the fish. He lets the bait settle, up to even a minute if he’s convinced fish are nearby, just terribly sluggish.

Assuming nothing’s disturbed the peaceful bobber, Neustrom turns the first round of the reel in what looks like slow motion. “Don’t think of it as cranking, but more like winding. It should be so slow you can actually see the line wind around the spool.”

The bobber, under minimal force, tilts on its side, creates a modest wake, and slides back toward its rightful owner. No jerks. No snaps. Not even a pause.

Down below, at the prescribed depth, the jig tracks along on the same linear path and at the same sleepy speed. At first, it’s easy to question the lure’s potential while creeping along so lifelessly. Trust, though, that beneath the surface micro moves are underway. On a hair-jig, like Northland’s new Bug-A-Boo Finesse Jig, the cilia-sensitive marabou feathers throb ever so subtly. On a straight pull, in cold water, that’s plenty of animation to get the job done.

The tubular, squid-tailed Slurpies Small Fry imparts similarly subtleness as the individual tentacles waft lightly.

Strike detection is as equally as crucial as bait selection. Sometimes, the bobber plunges and a swift yank of the rod tip finishes things off. But just as often, though, given the reaction time of springtime panfish, the bobber sinks ever so faintly under the light resistance of a papermouth. If it starts to dip, or deviates from its straight course, Neustrom says to calmly tighten the line and set smoothly.

Earlier, I referenced both slip-bobbers and fixed-position bobbers. Depth is what influences the ultimate call in Neustrom’s mind. “If I’m only fishing a couple of feet down, a fixed spring float is the way to go. Keep it simple.” Any deeper and he prefers the casting-control of a slip-bobber. In deadly dragging mode, that puts the base of the bobber in direct contact with the head of the jig. It casts like a missile, but be watchful so the jig-eye doesn’t stick in the shaft, preventing the bait from falling.

In a fixed format, Neustrom gives the nod to Northland’s new “Classic” Lite-Bite Slip Bobber series. The elongated, 100% balsa float drags with determination. When depth calls for a slip-bobber, it’s Northland’s pear-shaped, “Super Pro” Lite-Bite Slip Bobber. The high visibility “Red Alert” FireBulb™ takes sensitivity to a new level.

It’s no question that the years take their toll on one’s reaction time, and general athleticism for that matter. But on the flip-side, putting one in the win column for us middle-agers, patience and time go hand in hand. That should make me a world class deadly-dragger in, oh, say, another decade or thereabouts.

Have you ever caught the same fish twice in a single day? How about the same fish two or three times inside a week? I’ll bet many of you have. Even on a massive fish factory like Mille Lacs in Central Minnesota, these daily doubles occur more often than we probably realize. Last year, for instance, fishing a particular shallow weed flat, we caught a hungry 27-inch walleye with an odd black spot on its tail. Only reason I remember it is because the very next day, a client caught what had to be the exact same walleye. Three days later, when the marked fish ate my Fire-Ball jig once more, it was like seeing an old friend—Dottie the hungry walleye. Hope she’s still swimming out there— chomping on perch and the occasional jig and leech.

Catch and release fishing is a very good practice.

You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. It really isn’t to convince you that you actually are smarter than the fish (most of us). Instead, I want to tell you that the next time you pull one of these daily doubles, you ought to pat yourself on the back. You’ve done your job well— not only as a skilled angler, but even more as a caretaker of fish.

Catching and releasing larger individual fish like Dottie isn’t just a great idea. In more and more lakes each season, special length and slot limits require it. Even when you’re selectively harvesting smaller, more numerous fish, enjoying them at dinner means caring for the catch. Keep them healthy in your livewell, or fresh on ice, all the way up to the fillet table. Harvesting a limit of small walleyes or crappies, then allowing them to spoil in the sun is a tragedy.

Still, much of the time these days, we’re releasing most of the fish we catch. And that means doing everything possible to assure their health and survival. Released fish can be hurt in a number of ways, but they all relate to stress and wounding. Most stress occurs between the hookset and landing. Wounding, on the other hand, can result from hooks, as well as poor handling practices. We can’t always prevent fish from stressing themselves during a long fight, but we can certainly prevent problems related to improper handling. Whether I’m fishing for bass, walleyes, muskies or even big crappies, I almost always rely on a landing net. Frabill’s Conservation Series nets are like big swimming pools for fish. Slip a big walleye into one, and just keep the net draped over the side of your boat, fish calmly paddling around inside. Keep the fish in the water, while you quickly remove hooks. If it’s a pike, say “AH” and get the Mouth Spreaders.

Now, if you want a photo, leave the fish safely in its “holding pen,” and ready the camera. The fish remains in the water and happy while you prepare. You’re doing everything necessary to assure a safe, healthy release. When you’re ready, wet your hands, and then lightly grip the gill cover with one hand, supporting its lower abdomen with the other. Snap your shots, and immediately lower the fish back into the water. If it doesn’t immediately swim away, hold the fish gently by the tail, and just let it pump its gills and draw oxygen. Do not thrust the fish back and forth. Fish don’t swim backward, and they’re gills aren’t able to extract oxygen from water when you do this. Simply hold them in place underwater, and they’ll do the rest. If you’re in a river, face the fish upstream, not down.

In summer, consider that when surface water temperatures surpass the 70-degree mark, it’s best to minimize the time you spend fighting fish, handling them boatside. If possible, avoid removing them from the water altogether. Again, a fish-friendly net like my Conservation Series is the best catch-and-release tool in my boat. The net’s special design keeps the catch relaxed in soft, padded netting. While a spacious interior and flat bottom panel supports their entire body, protecting its anatomy and preserving fin structure.

If I’m fishing for panfish, I usually set my own release size standards. I never keep bluegills over 8-inches. And for crappies, anything over 11-inches goes back. There’s this really cool device called the Grip ‘N Check (it’s also called the Crappie E-Z Checker) that greatly eases the measuring process. Slide the fish into the measuring basket and you get an instant accurate length. A lot of states now have crappie size limits, and this little gadget makes quick work of accurately measuring panfish. It also assures that fish can’t flip-flop away, causing damage to gills, fins or scales.

Few other things I like to do to care for my catch. One involves hooks. Excessively large barbs on some hooks can do plenty of damage to fish. First, though, consider that rarely are three treble hooks required on plugs—particularly those on big crankbaits. Consider removing one set of trebles, the middle set, in particular. Lots of times, an extra set simply means a greater chance that one tine will lodge into an eyeball or penetrate a gill.

Beyond that, I like to reduce the size of the barb on hooks. File a three-sided knife-edge on larger single or treble hooks, reducing the barb by half or more. Reduced-barb hooks penetrate easier, still hold plenty firm, and pop free with much less effort or damage to fish. It’s a small step that can make a huge difference, not only in terms of fish survival, but also in hookset success.

A little about fish caught from deepwater. When certain fish are brought up from depths greater than 40 feet too fast, their swim bladders— which control buoyancy— can overinflate. You see a bubble in their throat, and the fish has trouble swimming back down. Sometimes, you can get fish to release (burp) air from their swim bladder by massaging and gently pressing on its abdomen. Some anglers do what’s called fizzing—puncturing the bladder with a hypodermic needle to relieve air pressure. I highly discourage this practice. Fizzing (puncturing) often does more harm than good, even if you know exactly what you’re doing. The third option is to burp fish with a small, smooth end tube. Take a 14-inch section of ½-inch PVC pipe, and sand the end smooth. Gently insert the tube into the fish’s throat several inches, until you hear (or feel) that the air has been released. Again, improper or forceful procedure here can damage fish. This may, however, be the safest, most effective means of burping fish.

Finally, a tip for deeply hooked fish. Holding the line in one hand, keep the hook eye exposed in the throat. Using a set of long, curved forceps, slide the closed grips through a gill opening. Frabill offers a slick catch and release tool kit, perfect for this scenario. Grasp the upper portion of the hook shank, then twist and push it back outward, completely freeing it. Using a hook with a reduced barb, this procedure has been shown to greatly minimize damage to fish. Fish swallow sharp spiny things all the time, and wounds in the larynx usually heal quickly. Certainly, this is safer for the fish than cutting the line, leaving a hook lodged in its throat.

The beauty of fishing today and that we have the knowledge and tools to care for the very fish that make what we love to do possible. Not only are things like the right net an insurance policy against lost boatside brawlers, they’re also invaluable for keeping fish healthy, happy, and hungry enough to bite again tomorrow.

Muskie anglers love to throw the biggest, flashiest baits. But in these days of dwindling discretionary income, spinners with oversized blades, magnum flashabou skirts and price tags to match are becoming cost-prohibitive. However, you can produce a bait at home for half as much as you’d pay for popular store models and catch fish just as effectively – if not more so due to your ability to customize the bait for your favorite water. If you’re new to bait building, or just want to get the kinks out before starting in on your first big spinner of the season, log on to www.nicksimonson.com and search “bucktail basics” for a beginner’s guide to lure making which will help set the stage for this tutorial.

There are two principal parts to a super-sized spinner: the pounding blades in front and the pulsating skirt on the business end. And it is the profile of the spinner’s skirt that makes big fish commit after the thump of the blades has lured them in. To make a strike-inducing skirt on a mondo muskie spinner, you’ll need one package (20 inches) of magnum flashabou, two 3/4-inch coils cut from a lawnmower throttle cable along with some Size A nylon tying thread and some head cement (Figure 1). The magnum flashabou, thread and head cement are available through Rollie and Helen’s Muskie Shop (www.muskyshop.com), Barlow’s Tackle (www.barlowstackle.com) or Lure Parts Online (www.lurepartsonline.com) and the throttle cable can be found at your local hardware store for about a dollar per foot. We’ll be tying a full skirt and a partial skirt, which when combined on the spinner shaft will provide for some amazing action on the retrieve.

To make the skirts, you will need to extend your tying vise by taking a scrap piece of .051” diameter spinner shaft and forming a 90-degree bend on one end using needle nose pliers. Thread the cable coil on the shaft and lock it firmly in the vise so the cable coil sits snugly between the vise and the bend and does not move. From there, you can begin wrapping the tying thread on the coil to form a foundation, cementing liberally (Figure 2).

Cut the hank of magnum flashabou in half so there is a pile of strands approximately 10-inches in length on the table in front of you. Divide the strands into two separate piles, one consisting of two-thirds of the total strands and the other consisting of the remaining third (Figure 3). For the primary skirt, we will be working with the larger pile of flashabou.

Form the primary skirt by evenly distributing the flashabou strands around the coil and tying them in at their midpoint (Figure 4). The strands should lay flat against the coil and the tie-in point should be centered on it. After every couple of sections, apply some head cement to the tie-in area and allow it to set for a minute or so. Tie the strands evenly in sections that overlap so that none of the coil is showing and the skirt is full in all areas. When done tying in the flashabou, make several half hitches over the tie-in point and cement the area thoroughly. Allow the cement to harden and apply some more, letting the second coating set on your finished skirt (Figure 5).

To make the partial skirt, cut the strands of the smaller pile of flashabou in half, so you have a group of strands approximately five inches in length (Figure 6). Remove the first coil from the vise and replace it with the second coil. Form a thread base on the coil and cement it for posterity. Tie the five-inch strands of flashabou onto the coil by their bases, so the bulk of each strand hangs to the left of the coil. Again, be sure to tie these strands in evenly for a full-looking skirt and apply cement after every couple of sections. Once completed, make a few half hitches or whip finish at the tie-in point and cement it thoroughly as you did with the primary skirt (Figure 7).

Once the cement is dry, you should have two skirts – the primary and the partial (Figure 8). Placed together on the spinner shaft, they will form a bulky-looking body, but because they are so light and easily moved by turbulence in the water, they will provide pulsating and life-like motion sure to trigger the wariest fish. Next week, we’ll put the skirts together with the rest of the spinner components for a homemade lure with all the attraction of a store-bought model minus the sticker shock. My guess is, those monster muskies won’t know the difference…in our outdoors.

In last week’s installment, we tied up the skirts for our mondo muskie spinner. This week, we’ll combine them with the rest of the components to finish off a lure that will save you money and catch fish. In order to do so, you’ll need the following components in addition to the skirts: two 7/0 Mustad 3551 treble hooks, two 2X heavy size 4H split rings, one 12-inch long .051”-diameter spinner shaft, two spacer beads, five 9/32” nickel beads, one .31-ounce nickel body, two size 12 magnum spinner blades, two size 6 clevises and a two-inch length of heat-shrink tubing (Figure 1).

First attach a treble hook with a 4H split ring to the looped end of the spinner shaft. Next, thread the two-inch length of shrink tubing down the shaft and wiggle it into place over the looped end of the shaft, split ring and hook. This might take some effort and a lot of wiggling, but try to get it so the split ring and loop are completely covered and the rest of the tubing is on the hook shank. Once it is in position, shrink the tubing with the heat from the butane lighter, taking care not to melt the tubing. This step prevents about 95 percent of lure fouling on the cast and keeps the treble riding straight during the retrieve, maximizing your chances of a positive hookset when the fish of 10,000 casts decides to strike. After the hook is attached and secured, thread two spacer beads onto the spinner shaft (Figure 2).

The next step is to add the primary and partial skirts that we tied in Part I of this tutorial. Thread the primary skirt onto the spinner shaft through the center of the underlying coil at the skirt’s center. It should stack on top of the spacer beads. The lower strands of the primary skirt should cover the spacer beads so they cannot be seen, and the strands should just reach the bottom of the treble hook. If they don’t, remove one spacer bead; if they hang down too far, add another. Once the primary skirt is in place, thread the partial skirt onto the spinner shaft just above the primary skirt, forming the body of the bait (Figure 3).

At this point, thread on a nickel bead and then a split ring with the second 7/0 treble hook attached to it (Figure 4). Then, for the purposes of flash and weight, thread the lure body and the remaining beads into place (Figure 5).

Now it’s time to add some thump to the lure. The selection of blade colors and sizes is growing rapidly each season, and there are a lot of cool patterns and colors to choose from.  . For the purposes of this bait, we’re going with dual size 12 hammered nickel blades to emit even more crazy flash and put out the beat that draws muskies in. What’s more, the water these blades displace on the retrieve provides ample turbulence to get the flashabou skirt pulsing and flashing to help you seal the deal when a big muskie chases your offering.

Thread the bottom holes of two size 6 clevises on the spinner shaft and thread the clevises through the holes at the top of the spinner blades. Then thread the top holes of the clevises onto the spinner shaft. Make sure the spinner blades are situated with the curve facing the spinner shaft (Figure 6). Slide the clevises and blades down so that they stack up tightly with the other spinner components.

To create the spinner’s eye, you will need a pair of pliers and some muscle. Grasp the spinner shaft with a pair of round- or needle-nose pliers approximately one inch above the top clevis, with all components stacked together. With your other hand, grab the portion of the spinner shaft extending above the pliers and bend it 270 degrees around the nose of the pliers, forming the eye of the lure (Figure 7).

Applying a little more elbow grease, begin to wrap the tag end of the wire around the shaft below the pliers. Make four wraps around the shaft, forming an eye that will not be bent straight by a heavyweight fish. Using a wire cutter, clip the tag end of the shaft off, leaving a secure connection point that you can clip your leader to (Figure 8). Your finished bait is ready to hit the water (Figure 9). This pattern accounted for a monster my brother landed while trolling in the cool waters of opening morning of muskie season, but it really excelled when cast over cabbage and reefs in late summer when the water warmed up and the fish had the feedbag on (Figure 10).

A commercial flashabou spinner like the one we’ve put together will cost upwards of $30. But with a little free time you can save more than fifty percent on your muskie arsenal and learn a lot about lure making in the process. Give it a shot this spring and try out your color and blade combinations on your favorite muskie water this summer. Chances are, you’ll get plenty of follows on the lures you create, and undoubtedly the time will come when a toothy fish strikes your offering…in our outdoors.

But by mid-afternoon, the bite had slowed and the occasional perch was all that we could muster. I wished for the bright sun to begin its evening descent at a quicker pace, setting the bluegills back into biting mode. And while I passed the time preparing half a dozen holes out deep over 28 feet of water for the night run of crappies I heard, “what’s that?!”
Against the midday sun, my wife’s cousin’s son, Billy, held up a dark fish, which wriggled on the end of the line. I looked up and saw the fish’s profile, and from fifty feet away I was certain it wasn’t that of a panfish. His twin brother, Cullen, seated next to him, leaned in for a better look as I started on my way over.

“Is it a bullhead,” I questioned, thinking that I had yet to ever see any rough fish in this particular gin-clear lake, tucked between the mines and pines of the Iron Range.
“I don’t think so, Billy replied.

The wiggly brown blob in Billy’s hand was a fish I had never seen before. It had feathery pectoral fins that were akin to those exotic Japanese fighting fish that Leslie Nielson’s clumsy detective character Frank Dreben killed in the first Naked Gun movie. When held by the back, the fins flared up, forming a collar like that of a frilled-neck lizard, making the fish look far more menacing than its five-inch length let on. Behind the gill plates the body quickly thinned and sported a continuous dorsal fin. The top-mounted eyes on the wide head of the fish bore a resemblance to a ling, another fish I had never seen. I positioned the idea that maybe it was a young eelpout, and snapped pictures for further review.
As the sun sank into the treetops, the bluegills returned to our offerings and then a solid run of evening crappies occurred under our area of the ice. The boys found consistent action and were excited to watch the red lines phase in on the Vexilar, approach their jigs, and come flying up the holes in the form of some dinner-sized specks. Despite a good run of fish, and a number of nice pannies in the pail, the topic of our conversation always came back to the mystery fish from the afternoon.

I became more and more certain that the fish was an eelpout, as I had never witnessed one in the flesh. Only through the magic of Joseph Tomelleri’s artwork and the press releases from the Eelpout Festival had I learned of the ling’s legendary ugliness. Assuming that the little brown fish Billy dropped back into the water was just that, as it had the face only a mother could love, I set about on the web to confirm its identity by comparing the pictures on my camera to those on the Internet.

It was then I realized that the little bug-eyed creature was no eelpout. The head didn’t match, the tail was too thin, and the large feathery fins were a dead giveaway. In the end it was a sculpin that provided the intrigue in our ice outing. And as sculpins go, the five-incher was a whopper.

Sculpins are a clear-water species found in the major drainages of Minnesota including Lake Superior, Rainy River, the Red River and Otter Tail River. They rarely live longer than four years and usually run from two to four inches in length. They reside amidst rocks and vegetation where they ambush crustaceans, insects and occasionally smaller fish for food. Among minnows and other fish that make up the base of the food chain, the sculpin has a unique appearance, with well-developed dorsal spines and pointy gill covers. Nevertheless, they are consumed by predators like large trout, bass and pike.

They are rarely caught by anglers targeting sportfish, but like this occasion, when they do show up on the end of the line, it can provide for a moment’s worth of bewilderment and a few hours of research shedding more light on an under-appreciated species and another great story…from our outdoors.

The “Dog Days” of winter for some begin in December and aren’t officially over until the last drift of snow disappears from the shelterbelt.

I know, Dog Days is generally a summer term referring to a lingering hot and humid period in August, but it also seems appropriate for a long stretch of midwinter weather that just doesn’t’ want to break for the positive.

This time of year, anglers, hunters and anyone else who enjoys the outdoors usually has on eye on the calendar for the next transition. We wait for change and find excuses around every corner. It’s too cold to fish, there’s too much snow – trust me I know from personal experience it’s pretty simple to decide to stay home.

If weather and reports of slow fishing drag you down, however, don’t despair. I’ve got some advice for helping to fight through the Dog Days no matter the time of  year. Part of the equation is reducing the stress – read simplifying – your time outdoors regardless of the activity.

My go-to guy is fellow North Dakota Game and Fish Department outreach biologist Greg Gullickson, Minot. He’s the only friend on my list who’s gigged flounder in Texas and hooked and cooked ling from North Dakota’s Lake Sakakawea. So when I need a few pointers for midwinter ice fishing, I know who to call.

“For me, part of enjoying fishing is at times you need to get back to the basics and not make it harder than it is,” Gullickson says.

Which is good advice for fishing any time of year. “There are thousands of versions of the equipment needed to be an ice angler,” Gullickson says. “The nice thing about ice fishing, and especially this time of year, is you can set out on foot with bare bones equipment and still enjoy it. Now don’t get me wrong. I am a gadget man, but still remember when my ice gear consisted of a five-gallon pail filled with homemade poles made from broken summer rods, and sticks with line wrapped around them. For me, at times I get more enoyment with less, even when then bite is slow.”

As Gullickson explains, it all comes down to supplying the basic needs to ice fish. You need to be able to make a hole in the ice (auger), pole (rods or tip-ups), lures (hooks, weights and bobbers), bait (minnows, smelt, wax worms) and if you desire, some sort of shelter.

And in a winter such as the past two, snow shoes, cross-country skis, and and all-terrain vehicle or snowmobile can reduce the potential for spending your day shoveling and not fishing. The point is, at times reducing the level of potential problems like getting stuck can increase the enjoyment.

Another way to reduce potential preparation time or equipment needs is to look for ready-made holes that are a sign of recent fishing activity and possible success.

“An easy way to make a hole is to ‘magpie,’ or find an old hole that someone had been using and chip it open with a metal bar,” Gullickson recommended.

Think of neighboring ice anglers who spend considerable time to get all their electronics set up and situated prior to dropping a line. With these tips and a little experimenting, you too can get into ice fishing the old fashioned way. And that’s not a bad thing at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking the latest and greatest in gear and equipment. The key is to not let a lack of gear and gadgets keep you from trying a little ice fishing, even if it’s the hook-and-bobber type.

If you approach winter outdoor activity with the right attitude and reasonable expectations, the Dog Days of winter don’t stand a chance at getting you down.

Leier is a biologist with the Game and Fish Department. He can be reached by email: dleier@nd.gov

Shantytowns are generally a bad sign. Economic downturns, natural disasters and tribal wars all come to mind when such a place is shown on the evening news. However, in the ice belt and points north, it is the sign of something good – a hot bite on frozen waters. While fishing a lake in central Minnesota with some friends recently, a large a city of fishing shacks and its respective suburbs made it hard to figure out exactly where the fish were biting best.

From the public access to the other side of the lake, groups of permanent shelters, homemade plywood pop-ups and twenty thousand dollar ice castles, stretched in clusters from shore to shore. About the only area that wasn’t populated by an on-ice abode was a stretch surrounding the lake’s inlet. The bite was on and with the advice of a fishing board buddy, my three friends and I prepared for a panfish bonanza as we weaved our way around the neighborhoods on the plowed road
The lake sported a slot limit on crappies, meaning the only slabs we’d be able to keep for the pan would have to be much bigger than the fish I was accustomed to. Reports from those around us signaled that big bluegills also roamed the spot we set up on. With two shelters, two augers and three sonar devices in tow, we unloaded and set up the grid. But of the forty holes we punched to start the morning, we really would only need two of them.

After running several lines east and west, I joined the novice in our group to show him how the sonar worked and how to watch a spring bobber when the fish moved into view. His tiny jig hadn’t stopped falling when a red line materialized above the bottom and began moving up the display. He closed the bail and the bait hung above the fish. Cautiously, the fish moved up to the jig.

“Watch the tip for any movement,” I explained.
The copper wire and pink bead twitched ever so slightly.
“There it is,” I exclaimed as he set the hook and the rod arched sharply in his hands.

He worked the fish up and a beam of early morning sun caused the reflection of green scales to light up the icy cylinder over which we hovered. I looked over the edge of the hole and saw the gaping mouth of a huge crappie. It tossed and turned in an effort to free itself but the tiny jig held true, and I reached in and lipped the speck like it was a summer largemouth. I hollered to my two other friends as they were readying their ice tackle and held the football sized slab aloft.

“I don’t think it will make it,” the nearer of the two said, “you better put it on the tape.”
I was taken aback, knowing that on any other lake this fish would have had a date with the Fry Daddy, forgetting for a moment that on this water it was the tape measure that would decide its fate. The crappie weighed over a pound and I could barely fit both hands around it. Its eyes uneasily surveyed the tailgate as I laid on the measuring stick, pinching its tail down to get an accurate measurement. In every position, from nose to tail, and then tail to nose, and through every effort except stepping on the poor fish, it fell a quarter inch shy of the legal minimum on the lake. As a result, it was quickly back in the nearest hole.

No sooner had the fish disappeared down the hole than I looked up to see the spring bobber rod bouncing in my buddy’s hands again. After an immediate surge, the fish came up slowly, putting a permanent bend in the ultralight blank. Having a non-keeper size in mind, the fish that splashed in the hole was a no-doubter. I reached in and lifted it up. It was fatter and longer than the previous one. It eclipsed the slot limit by nearly an inch and a half, and our first keeper was on ice.

We popped some new holes and the four of us set our portable shacks over the hot spot. Our sleds were the little green houses, and the permanents around us – with their silent generators and Dish TV receivers – were the big red hotels. But, regardless of the expense of our shelters, we were all fishing the Park Place and Boardwalk squares on the lake.
Schools of bluegills moved in throughout the day, usually concealing crappies that roamed a few feet beneath them near the bottom. The action was fast and satisfying on our light tackle, with very few lulls – a perfect learning experience for the new ice angler in the group and the best action in recent weeks for the rest of us. We landed nearly forty crappies, with many measuring near the slot limit, but requiring release. In between the solid bend the slabs brought were the spinning and whirring battles with the bluegills, some topping ten inches in length.

By the time dusk settled over the lake and the lights began turning on in the shanties from shore to shore, we had a dozen keeper crappies, a handful of nice bluegills, and over 150 fish between the four of us. We called it a day and wound our way through the shanty town as neighbors broke off conversations to return to their winter homes in time to catch the evening bite. The glow of yellow and white through the window of each shack cast squares of light on the snow as guideposts back to the access. Each one was a signal that the slot-spurred action for big crappies continued and the shantytown that sprang up was an indication of the good fishing to be had…in our outdoors.

Admittedly, I’m a meat and potatoes sort of guy. I’m eyeing the porterhouse steak on the menu long before the canary food, organic “meals under 500 calories”. In fact, I’ll take the whole right side of the menu, please. This instinctive weakness for hearty meat translates to my walleye fishing as well. Nine out of ten times I’m elbowing my way to the biggest minnow, not thinking much about soft plastic alternatives.

Like Mark Courts, Scott Glorvigen (pictured) knows a thing or two about pitching jigs and soft jerkbaits for river and reservoir walleyes. This unfortunate fish crossed paths with a Northland Slurp! Jig Head and 4-inch Slurpies Smelt Minnow. Photo courtesy of www.northlandtackle.com

Give me minnows, or give me death…or perhaps something less dramatic, but along those lines.

With that said, I mean no disrespect to guys who put their trust in plastics, sometimes choosing them over live minnows, leeches, and crawlers. Professional walleye angler and educator Mark Courts is one of those guys I respect enough to cut some slack. When it comes to walleyes on plastics, he’s one of the savviest on the FLW Walleye Tour. And to give soft plastic its day in court, I questioned Courts…pun intended.

“Walleyes crush them,” began the Harris, Minn. resident and native. “When a walleye eats a plastic, it’s game over. I’m digging in there with pliers to pull the hook out of the roof of their mouths.”

A certified proponent of live bait, too, Courts knows that plastic have their time and place. And without hesitation, he named springtime fishing on rivers and reservoirs as the foremost situations for busting out the plastics. Courts explained: “Usually, rivers run darker than lakes in the spring. Because of the turbidity, you need to offer them a big target, something with major profile. Plastics fill that role.”

Any broad generalizations about soft plastics end here. Courts is particular about his shapes and sizes. As far as spring walleyes go, nothing does a better job of imitating natural forage (baitfish) than a fluke, sometimes referred to as “soft jerkbait.” Typical to soft plastics, they come in more colors and variations than jellybeans at the candy counter. I’ve seen them as long as a ruler for oceangoing stripers and as miniscule as a blue moon in a box of Lucky Charms to imitate young-of-the-year baitfish.

Relevant to walleyes, Courts’ preferred size falls somewhere in the middle. This is a direct reflection of what foodstuffs are being preyed upon. Typically, you’re dealing with some variety of shiner, shad, dace or sucker from an inch to five inches in length. To no great surprise, the marketplace bares numerous makes and models in those sizes and shapes.

So recognize the general shape and size of the baitfish and you’re half way there. The other component, which Courts said is equally as important, is finding “the right body to jig ratio for the current conditions at hand.” Essentially, you want to hitch the jig and plastic to create the most natural presentation possible.

“With too heavy a jig it’ll lock in the bottom,” said Courts. “Too light, and it’ll tumble downstream and never make contact with the bottom.” In a perfect world, Courts’ properly paired combo “tics the bottom every six inches to a foot.” Now that sounds more like the true behavior of a live, river running minnow…

In order to achieve equilibrium given a wide range of current speeds and depths, it’s only logical to tote an array of jig sizes. And Courts does. “I’ll throw jigs as light as 3/32-ounce and go all the way up to 3/8 ounce if the conditions call for it.” Again, the goal is to keep contact with the bottom without becoming part of it.

A guy who competes professionally on the bass side, too, Courts is super particular about jig styles. “It must have an extra long shank for reaching back into the plastic body,” he stated leaving little margin for error. “A wide gap is necessary as well. The more hook point exposed the better for sticking walleyes in dark and fast moving water. Small hooks are easily missed.”

Last but not least, Courts’ jigs are required to keep a solid grip on the plastic. His top performer is the Northland Slurp! Jig Head. “A double-barb, BarbWire™ collar holds plastics better than anything I’ve ever fished. They hang-on for cast after cast and walleye after walleye.” Slurp! Jig Heads also feature the long-shank and wide-gap that Courts demands.

Maintaining holy matrimony, Courts couples his jig with a soft jerkbait that was designed to wed a Slurp! Jig Head. “Can’t get a better match than the Slurpies Smelt Minnow. The profile is perfect. The material is supple yet durable. And I have eight unique colors to choose from.” Additionally, the Slurpies Smelt Minnow is available in both 3- and 4-inch sizes, yielding even more match-the-hatch flexibility.

Rigged and ready for deployment, Courts discusses specific fishing situations where the jig and jerkbait tandem is especially effective. “After the spawn, walleyes, especially big fish, settle into current seams. A number of structures form seams, too. Wingdams are a good example. Shoreline brush and rocky points and fingers also produce seams that hold walleyes.

Best of all, most seams are visible on the surface.” Courts says to watch closely for speed changes on the surface, either fast to slow, or slow to slack or even reversing – an eddy. It’s all about fishing those edges, or transitions.

Wide berthing river bends are worth a look, too. Current sweeps hurriedly along the outside bend while the shallower inside is slacker and more conducive to post-spawn feeding activities. Keep this information in your back pocket in case the typical current seams aren’t holding fish.

Once a spot’s been identified, Courts anchors or “slips” downstream across from the target. Slipping is a method of boat-control in current whereby the operator inches ever so slowly downstream while running the motor – gas or electric – upstream to manage speed. Yes, it’s effective, but it also takes skillful navigation. Anchoring is the easier choice and lets you focus more on fishing.

Anchored or slipping, Courts casts upstream of ground zero at a 45-degree angle and “walks” the jig and fluke downstream. He holds the rod at the 9- to 11 o’clock position and maintains a taut line to feel every bump of the riverbed and hopeful wallop of a walleye.

This wicked jig and plastic combo isn’t limited to current-going walleyes, either. I’ll often throw it in flooded backwater areas. Later in the summer, on natural lakes, jigs and flukes can be very productive along deep weedlines for walleyes and largemouth bass. And if you’re into smallmouth bass fishing, there might not be a better one-two punch out there.

Okay, Mr. Courts, I get it. I’ll save some space in the tackle box for jigs and plastics. But don’t try talking me into dumping the minnows. I consider them comfort food.

Last week, as I braced myself against the wind and made my way up the walk in the glow of the front porch light, I saw through the blowing snow that first sign of spring. It wasn’t a robin, hiding its head under its wing in the late January cold. It wasn’t a dandelion poking up through the frozen ground. Those warming-weather sights are still a couple of months away. No, this first sign of spring was the glint off the cover of the Cabela’s Spring Master Catalog sticking out from under the mailbox lid.

The rustic Philip Goodwin painting was a throwback to simpler times as two anglers battled a splashing fish to net in the radiance of the sunset while their buddy tended the campfire on shore. But the warmth of the fishing scene on that particular piece of mail wasn’t the only sign that spring was approaching. Behind that catalog were the Cabela’s Fishing Catalog, Tackle Craft Catalog and Fly Fishing Catalog as well; bulking up the armload of mail I hauled into the house. As I flipped through each one after dinner, pausing to look at new crankbaits, flashy reels, fly vests and trolling motors, I felt the chill of winter melt away, despite hearing the wind that howled outside.

To help keep cabin fever at bay, I’ve spent the better part of the last month restocking my fly box, ordering lure components and attempting to get out on the ice against 30 mile-an-hour winds, single digit temps and three-foot snow drifts. This winter has been trying at times – particularly while traveling for the holidays – but it has also provided moments to prepare for the coming season and these mailings assure me that day-by-day, the first green grass and moving water will be here eventually.

Another sure sign comes in that preparation for the earliest of open water seasons: trout fishing. And there’s one fly that brings with it all the colors of spring, from the pinks and reds of Valentine’s Day to the peaches, oranges and whites of Easter, right up into the flashy chartreuse of the first blade of new grass. The colors of these egg flies seemingly draw spring to my tying bench and they are a hallmark of my annual outings in search of trout. The glo bug is synonymous with drift fishing on Great Lakes tributaries from New York to Minnesota and the multitude of color combinations match the eggs of any species and then some.

Tying the glo bug reminds me a great deal of my hunting dog, Gunnar. When we started hunting, all I had to do was take him to the field and he took over from there. There was hardly any effort involved on my part in making him the hunter that he is today. It was his instinct and my occasional good shot that led to our success for pheasants, grouse and partridge over the past five years.

It is the same way with the glo bug. Attach a few pieces of McFly Foam egg yarn to a hook with a dozen wraps of thread, pull up on it, cut it and fluff it and you have the most amazing egg imitator since Eggland’s Best hit supermarket shelves. The flies practically tie themselves. After placing an order from the catalogs now piled next to my office desk, I tied 50 glo bugs up in a morning and completely restocked my supply by the end of the weekend. With my egg box filled, and a few spares to boot, I can tell you that no pattern brightens a vise in January like a glo bug.

If you’re running a temperature with a bout of cabin fever and are looking forward to spring, there’s not much I can do about the weather. What I can tell you is that the world looks a little bit brighter and the fishing this spring will be a whole lot hotter when you have a solid selection of glo bugs at your fingertips. Whether in pink or orange to match actual roe or in chartreuse to trigger bites, you can tie the entire spectrum of these go-to flies in preparation for an egg-citing spring…in our outdoors.

In the early 1980s trapping fox, coyotes, badgers, muskrat and a bonus mink did more than just pay for gas. Fur prices were strong and fox outnumbered coyotes to the point where a coyote pelt brought a nice reward, and the intense hunting and trapping effort helped keep numbers in check as well.

ND predator hunting is growing in popularity and for good reason, there's a lot of coyotes around

My dad was one of those guys who jumped in his old blue Ford and ran a trap line every night after work. I often tagged along, as I never knew what the 20 or so traps would hold. A coyote was a prize, a raccoon showed up once in awhile, and the occasional skunk was a necessary evil, but it was all part of the trap line.

And that was part of the draw – similar to just about any hunting or fishing outing for that matter – you just never knew what might lie around the next bend.

I can count on one hand, maybe two, the number of trappers I know who are keeping the heritage alive. But where trapping with the dedication required for checking a trapline daily has fallen off, a lot of it because of a depressed fur market and high price for gas, I know many others who have joined the ranks of predator hunters. Whether it’s with calls, or by spotting and stalking, predator hunting has become much more popular than it once was.

Part of that has to do with opportunity, as coyote numbers are higher than they were 30 years ago, and their primary range has expanded. While the state’s coyote population has grown, the fox population is smaller, partly because of the presence of mange, and partly because coyotes don’t like fox and force them out of their territories.

With the rising popularity of predator hunting in North Dakota, there are also a few reminders, ethical and legal, that need to be considered in the realm of enhancing landowner-hunter relations.

I’d venture that many landowners would welcome coyote or fox hunters who ask permission for walking or snowshoeing access. As with all types of hunting, however, there’s no guarantee.

Don’t forget that with the excessive early snow and drifts around the rural areas, some posted signs are snowed in and it’s better to seek out permission in most cases, rather than assuming land is not posted.

While I’m on the subject of “posted” signs, I’ve taken a few calls from landowners asking for a reminder that “no trespassing” isn’t exclusive to hunting. “No trespassing” is all-inclusive, on foot, snowmobile, ATV or other form of transportation. No matter what the activity, if land is posted the landowner wants people to ask before the enter.
When it comes to furbearer hunting and snowmobiles, it’s illegal to chase and harass wildlife. Anyone who witnesses such activity should report it immediately.

One last legal reminder for predator hunting – the use of spotlights, the same as for viewing big game at night. While night hunting for predators is legal during the winter, you must be on foot, and you can’t use a spotlight. So, use the spotlight for finding calves or lost pets, and when you set out to call fox and coyotes at night, leave the light at home or and bring the snowshoes along.

While my participation as a predator hunting isn’t on the same level as many other active coyote or fox caller, I still enjoy strapping on the snowshoes and hiking across the in pursuit of fox, coyotes … or rabbits. You never know what you might find when you spend the day on the other side of the window.

Leier is a biologist with the Game and Fish Department. He can be reached by email:dleier@nd.gov

More than 40 years ago the North Dakota Game and Fish Department, in an effort to create structure for fish and create artificial habitat within Heart Butte Dam (Lake Tschida) in Grant County, sunk some old car bodies into the reservoir.

As you might expect, the practice of using car bodies for building fish habitat was short-lived, but the need for creating habitat in some waters did not go away. Eventually, discarded Christmas trees became a more natural and available element for adding to lakes that needed additional spawning and escape structure.

Building fish habitat can produce healthier fish to enjoy again and again.

Over a couple of decades numerous North Dakota lakes including Elsie, Spiritwood, Williams and Moon in the southeastern part of the state, and even larger reservoirs such as Audubon, Lake Ashtabula, Pipestem and Jamestown Reservoirs, got artificial reefs in an effort to boost fisheries production during a time of prevalent drought. Since then, as the state recovered from drought starting in the mid-1990s and numerous new lakes were created from flooded wetlands, use of artificial reefs has been scaled back.

Construction of these projects is time-consuming for Game and Fish staff and local wildlife and fishing club members who volunteered thousands of hours for reef projects at their local lakes.

Research on those projects showed the effort was generally worthwhile but results were often short-term. Many artificial habitat reefs enhanced fishing and/or natural reproduction of sport and forage fish, as well as provided cover for 10 or more years. Depending on the lake, however, artificial reefs may not provide any benefits, and they are not a quick fix in lakes where benefits would occur.

And, experiences over the last 10 years emphasize that natural fish habitat – a combination of water and plants, bottom structure and depth – is more productive than artificially placed  habitat. However, some bodies of water have little structure, and adding artificial habitat may be the only way to enhance a fishery in the long term.

Periodically I get questions about the old Game and Fish tree reef program, and thought it might be beneficial to looking at the issue from a couple of different angles.

Artificial reefs can attract fish and therefore increase angling success in areas where fishing is poor, even though fish populations are healthy.

Tree reefs can provide spawning habitat or escape cover, not only for game fish like perch and crappie, but also for forage fish like fathead minnows.

Artificial reefs are ideal projects to involve local anglers or wildlife club members in an effort designed to yield local benefits and/or ownership.

We caught many crappies over beds of Christmas trees in the wintertime, great stucture for crappies

And here’s a few other considerations:

Artificial reefs are labor intensive and benefits are not always predictable.

If artificial habitats are placed in lakes where they are not needed, they could increase fish production to the point of overpopulation for some species.

If water levels recede in lakes where artificial reefs exist, exposing the trees or tires, the material is unsightly. Reef-tops could also become boating hazards.

If a reef works in one area, public perception is that it will work in all areas. People may assemble and install reefs without Department approval if they think it will help their lake, or they may,with good intentions, leave Christmas trees on a lake on their own.
Citizens who construct reefs on their own, or leave trees on frozen lakes (where the tree will wind up on shore after the ice goes out) could be subject to a littering violation. These situations are easily avoided by involving a local fisheries biologist in any prospective reef project.

Like many of you, I’d enjoy more fish and bigger fish. But the reality of establishing habitat is similar to that of stocking of fish — it’s not as simple as dumping fish or trees into a lake and hoping for the best.

We’re better served to assess the potential of each individual fishery and apply the best possible recipe for maintaining and enhancing its potential.

Leier is a biologist with the Game and Fish Department. He can be reached by email: dleier@nd.gov