We have been experiencing what most of us would call a mild winter, and a strange one at that. We are constantly flirting with temperatures ranging from below zero to the 30s and back. This is not uncommon for Minnesota; in fact, it gives us a chance to utter that much over-used phrase: “If you don’t like the weather, wait a while and it will change.”
The fishing on the channel this winter has been less than sensational, judging from the number of permanent houses residing there. This is the least number of houses I have seen on the lake in recent years.
The walleye action on the channel was good early on, but as of late, the bite has slowed. There are still some walleye and crappie to be had.
Fountain Lake, on the other hand, has more houses than in other years and the reason for all the houses is quite simple: fish! Although there aren’t many walleyes to be had, the crappie and sunfish have been biting. I have heard that the fish haven’t been “slabs” but they will still be good eaters.
As we tip-toe into the month of February, I am hoping that our area lakes will maintain enough oxygen to sustain the fish population. It is a double-edged sword because on one hand, we could use the snow that would add much needed moisture to our low lakes and dry streams. On the other hand, too much snow cover blocks the sunlight needed for oxygen that sustains fish life.
So far, I haven’t had to fight off the urge to jump in the truck and drive to Cabela’s or Fleet Farm and troll through the sporting goods aisles. I know it will only be a matter of time before that happens. I can’t think of a better way to fight off the cabin fever bug than spending a little time (and money) in the fishing aisle of one of those stores.
Whenever I start daydreaming about fishing and summer, I think back to my youth and the times I would get lost in an article in one of my fishing magazines. My cousin Tom had given me some of his old issues of Sports Afield and Outdoor Life before he went off to the Army. In these pages, I discovered there were many places in our country similar to ours. I also felt the rush that the author of an article felt as he fought a tarpon in the backwaters of the Florida coast.
There were many places I thought that I’d like to visit, but to this day I haven’t gone much farther to fish than Wisconsin, Northern Minnesota and South Dakota. If it hadn’t been for my uncle Ben, I probably would have been destined to a childhood of fishing for bullheads and rubbertails. My mother always encouraged me to go fishing and when she could find the time she also loved to fish.
As a kid growing up north of town, life didn‘t really seem all that complicated. There was always water in the “slew” and most of the “cricks” in the area had water year-round except for late August in some years. As kids, we would almost live down at the “Bridge” in the spring and early summer watching as the tad poles evolved into frogs, and we always marveled as that event unfolded.
The bridge I am referring to is not the one by the dam on the north side. It’s the one on Bridge Avenue north of the fairgrounds between the two sloughs.
If I was going to the north side to do some fishing, I would tell my mom I was going down to the dam. But if I was going to the “crick,” I was going to the bridge.
It seem like we always had our own terminology for things in those days. We also had names for certain places like “skunk hill” or “dead man’s woods” that seemed like magical places that were just waiting for young adventurers like ourselves to explore.
There was one spot on the edge of the “slew” that was probably my favorite place to spend time as a kid. It was on the north side of the slough and west on the corner of the field bordering the slough.
This was a place not very far from home that I could go to by myself if none of the other kids was around. This spot was nothing more than a couple of willow trees and small elms with a few bushes all bunched together with some swamp grass mixed in.
A guy could make a stand from that spot and fend off attacking Indians or bad guys and even a vicious bear or mountain lion. I really didn’t need much more than my imagination those days, and I always felt safe because I was “packin’ heat” which, in this case, was my trusty Daisy Red Ryder BB gun.
I usually always toted “Old Red” along whenever I ventured out into the slough in search of a new adventure. Yes, there are some pretty darned good memories from those days.
Until next time, enjoy what our area has to offer, and with a little imagination, you can have an outdoors adventure of your own.
Please remember to keep our troops in your thoughts and prayers because they are the reason we are able to enjoy all the freedoms that we have today.