First Ice Walleyes

When I see the lakes frozen over for the first time, there is only one thing that comes to my mind. It's time for walleyes! I tend to fish muskies the majority of the summer, so the chance to relax in a shack with a buddy or two just gets me jazzed. Almost like catching a monster muskie, the thrill of seeing that first walleye light up my vexilar gives me an adrenaline rush. Not sure why that happens, but I can't control it, and yes I will confess to being an ice fishing junkie.

Last night, longtime friend Matt Hennen joined me for a quick outing as the sun hit the horizon. We set up quickly on an area that has produced in the past. With the howling winds and blowing snow, we had our doubts about a good bite taking place. Nevertheless, we banked the portable ice shack and nestled in. I chose a green and white forage minnow, and Matt went with a glow in the dark Swedish Pimple. Both walleye favorites on this particular lake.

Matt struck first as the daylight started to fade. A small walleye, but a walleye it was. The first of the season, which made for a high five and smiles. Our celebration was short-lived. The bite was on, and the fish were coming in fast. Doubles! Followed by a single, another double, then one escaping my grasp in the hole, and a few more. A short window of opportunity before darkness totally covered the lake. When it was all said and done, we had 10 walleyes visit us in our shack. 7 fell victim to my sweet little jiggle, and 3 to Matt's. Matt said I was lucky, but I preferred to label it skill. Either way, we enjoyed the short stint on the water. All of the walleyes we landed were a tad short, so we tossed them back. I guess it was worth battling the wind. Even though we didn't keep a single fish, we had fun catching them. Next time I will have pictures of the big one's as I continue my ice fishing in what I am calling "the year the walleye cries for help!"

The End Signals The Beginning

This past Saturday I found myself staring down an ice hole yet again. We reached our spot, and my partner Dusty had to run back to the truck to grab forgotten supplies. During this time, I took a few minutes to recap the past few months. Where did the summer go, and what about that fall hunting season? I fell into a daze reliving my moments.

This summer was another great one. Many trophy fish came in the boat again, and the smiles were endless from all that I was fortunate enough to fished with. I failed to land the new state record Muskellunge, but that is another story. I gave it an honest effort when I could, and came all too close. I had some first timers, such as Mitch landing his first musky, and a 50 incher to boot. I had some very young kids in the boat, and that was their first time screaming "Fish On!" I enjoyed some beautiful sunsets and even better sunrises. I caught up with many great friends, and took a couple trips north. I learned lessons from the fish yet again, and also found new places to catch 'em. I gave seminars and speeches, hosted a radio show or two, and even filmed a couple of tv shows. I told the summer stories the only way I knew how, and loved every second of it.

This fall it seemed I spent more time chasing that darn record breaking muskie than I did pursuing other critters. I did manage a great duck opener, and bagged a few geese as well. The countless hours I spent in the tree stand will never be forgotten, and my arrow eventually found its mark. The rifle season was cold, but fun nonetheless. Deer camp is a yearly favorite of mine. I had a couple of recent outings that I will remember for the things I shouldn't have done, and found myself cold and skunked more than once. Hmmm! Another good hunting season no doubt.

Before I could continue with further thoughts of the past few months I felt a strong tug on the end of my line. "Haha! I got one!" I yelled to nobody. Chuckling to myself I laid the first slab crappie on the ice for 2008. A big smile came over my face as I was reminded how much I love this state and our great outdoors. Just when one season ends, I am lucky enough to start up the next one.

Dusty came back to 5 crappies laying on the ice, and we didn't stop there. He was all smiles, and so was I. Our first trip for the year was a success! We didn't catch the Walleyes that we were hoping, but we played it safely and fished safe ice. We wanted the 'Ol Marble Eye's, but were pleasantly rewarded with a meal of slab crappies. For the first trip of the year, I was sure happy, and if you know me at all, this won't be the last. Welcome to the 2008 ice season! I'm calling it "The Year The Walleye Cries For Help!"

Travis Frank -Travis@mnbound.com

A Very Black Friday

Seems Black Friday holds a tradition for most. Head to the store if you enjoy shopping, or head to the fields if you enjoy pheasants. While I'm sure there were some great deals out there this past Friday, I decided to drop my Thanksgiving poundage by walking the fields instead of the mall isles. I have been told that the malls are crazy hectic on this special day, but my Black Friday tradition says the same for us hunters. The fields are crowded. Public land or not, you can expect to see orange moving through the prairie grass.

This past Friday I was joined by one heck of a hard-core hunter. Some call him "Lum," some call him "Phillip," but his real name is Mike. Nevertheless, this hunter invited me to join him and a couple of buddies for a late season rooster hunt. Fresh off of a Rooster Bonanza weekend a few days previous, he was pretty darn excited to hit the fields that morning. As we waited for our 9 a.m. start time, we could see the birds flying back and forth to find their resting spot for the day. With the anticipation mounting, and a pup that has no patience whining in the back of the truck, we gathered our gear.

If you are familiar with late season pheasant hunting, then you know that these birds are smart and skittish. That was exactly the case for us. It seemed with each step we could see a rooster take flight. Certainly out of reach of our bird shot, they flew further into the thick cover. Within minutes we knew this wasn't going to be easy. "No worries, Just cool to see that many birds in the air," I told Mike. It took a while to get our rhythm down, and a few hens to scare us straight before we found our mark. Rooster number one was a beaut!

The land that he and his buddy Kris had been developing for the past couple of years has turned out well. The birds were there, and the efforts had already started to pay off. Not to mention the deer calling this new piece of paradise home. Yep, the new trees had taken hold, but the bucks have rubbed them to the ground. "Oh well, that's what we planted them for," Mike joked!

Our morning was going well, we added another Rooster to our bag before things took a turn. A turn that nobody likes to witness on their property. The dogs had found something, only it wasn't a rooster. As we approached a fresh deer kill, something didn't seem quite right. This deer didn't die of natural causes, but had no visible marks from a hunter or coyotes either. What had happened? Well, a little research revealed the worst. A trail camera had been set up overlooking a food plot on the property. Upon looking at the pictures, the fork horned buck was alive 3 days earlier enjoying the green growth. Then pictures revealed trespassers, and if that wasn't bad enough, the buck was examined only to find bird shot in the deer's head and neck. So not only did somebody trespass on Kris's property, they also illegally poached a deer as well.

"That's tough to see," said Kris, after passing up that buck a dozen times with his slug gun. "Just makes me sick to my stomach." And it rightfully should! The rest of the day wasn't quite the same, and Kris and his father Ken went home after that. Mike and I stuck it out for a bit, but never found our rhythm. We saw a few more birds, and put a third rooster in our pouch, but the day still left a bad taste in our mouth. To make matters even worse, I received a call from Mike the next day stating that the trail camera had now been stolen off the property as well. I guess the mystery is still unfolding. This is just a bad situation altogether. A Black Friday hunt that turned out to be a very Black Friday.

Travis Frank - Travis@mnbound.com

That's A Wrap...Or Is It?

It is a sad day as I sit down to write this article. The quest that I have been so fortunate to partake in has an end in sight. Many of you have been following this journey with me, and for that I feel honored. For those that are reading this for the first time, I have been in search of landing the next state record muskie. I called it "The Quest For The One," and it was quite the quest at that. You can follow along in previous articles if you wish, as I give detailed descriptions of the past few weeks.

There were some extreme highs and lows that came along with this journey. Some tremendous fish in the boat, along with the big one that came unhooked just before the net. She was the one, a fish that no doubt would have shattered the record. With that fish came a few others that fueled my fire. I gave names to these fish that I would see each time out. Edna, Diane and Marge to be exact. These 3 fish kept me sleeplessat night. I had encounters from fish on my trips that would scare a normal human into finding a new sport to pursue. Along with the fish came the elements that made most consider me crazy. Ice, wind, waves and bitter cold temps. I actually enjoyed the challenge.

This past weekend I made what might just be my final trek in pursuit of the one. The reports that I received from others told me to stay at home. The lake was suppose to be frozen, but I didn't care. "Where there is a will, there is a way," was the motto that I went up there with. We found an access that had the least amount of ice. With chisel in hand, we chopped it away and made a path for the boat. A 15 mile boat ride put is near the spot. Ice bergs were our main obstacle as we drove, and nothing was going to stop us. Well, that turned out to be a false statement. Upon reaching what I called "the honey hole," things took a turn south. My entire source of information had failed me. My graph and all the data that I had compiled over the weeks quit working and left me blind. Miles from shore in a sea of open water, I could no longer find my tiny spot. The fish were instantly safe from our over-sized baits, and it became very clear to Matt and I that the quest was over. Maybe it was a sign from God, maybe I had worn out my welcome, or that he wants me to wait another year. I haven't quite decided yet.

The lake is still open, but it won't be long now. The ice is inevitable, and the water was abitter 33.1 degrees. Yep, she's gonna freeze, the fish are safe. At least for today. Will I figure out an overnight solution to my graph, or have I accepted defeat? I'm just not sure yet. The emails and phone calls inspire me to keep going, but at some point I will have no choice. If that was it, then I will consider it another great run. To be in the position to land such incredible fish is an experience in itself. Watching Mike loose the 60 pounder will be haunting, but fuel next years fire. So close, yet so much fun. I cannot give closure just yet, but part of me thinks that fish is testing my stamina. Maybe I am crazy, but I don't think the end is here for me just yet. Sigh...At least I hope not!

A Late Season Goose Hunt

Last Friday I received a call from my buddy Mike.  I believe his exact words went something like this. "Jason's got 400 geese and 200 mallards landing in a field!  We're meeting at 2:00!  Can you make it?"

With an exciting call like that, I had no choice.  Turns out, he under estimated the true numbers of birds in that field.  What I didn't know when I drove out to meet the boys, was that we were going to be hiding 8 men in that field.  If you are familiar with late season duck and goose hunting, you know that these birds are very smart.  They have seen anything and everything that hunters can throw their way, and are very tough to fool.  Hiding 8 men in a field is nearly impossible when it is tilled up black.

We did our best, digging the blinds into their own little pits.  We found as many corn stalks and corn parts as we could manage, and tucked them into every crack of the blinds.  I thought it looked pretty good, but what would the birds think?

On this hunt, there was no waiting.  Heck the trucks were still parked in the field when the first 200 showed up.  Mallards that is!  Not what we were expecting, but a pleasant surprise.  Too bad we weren't ready.  Hide the trucks, and the hunt was on.  Flock number one turned sour on us at the last minute.  Apparently they saw something that flock number two did not.  Flock number two was not as smart, and came in just picture perfect.  The sight of those big birds putting their landing gear down gives me a rush that I cannot explain.  We dropped 3 out of the group and the skunk was off.

The sad thing about that flock, it was the highlight of our day.  From that point on, we watched flock after flock fly right over our heads.  Literally by the hundreds they came in, but we only managed to trick one other goose into thinking he had an easy meal.  It was a constant wave of birds for about 2 hours.  As textbook as our hunt started, we were humbled by the late season birds yet again.  We watched them circle and land in a few neighboring fields.  Fly back to the roost, and do it all over again.  Non-stop action in every direction other than on top of our decoy spread.  Not to mention the several hundred mallards that came back for a pre-sunset meal.  They too agreed with the geese and thought our offering was less than appealing.

That's ok.  We did bag 4 late season birds, and that is an accomplishment in itself.  We also watched a sight not that often seen in the Minnesota sky.  A sky full of ducks and geese is usually only visible when I head out west.  A success no doubt.  Thanks for that call Mike!