Bowfin!...and why I'm done fishing for anything else

Charlie and his dad fishin'

I hooked the bluegill through the tail, just how Sam Bennett showed me. It took me a few casts to get it where I wanted it, but the third cast landed exactly where I thought there might be a fish. The sun was setting. Mosquitos buzzed around us. Charlie the six-year-old stood a few feet away, working on getting some more little bluegill. Leo, his dad, stood next to me doing the same. We were standing at the edge of a marshy pond, a pipe behind us spilling water from the bigger lake into this small pool. We saw huge ripples moving around the surface of the water. Something big was in there.

We were camping! We were camping fishing. As I've mentioned before, camping is awesome! I didn't grow up camping, but that's ok... When I was a kid I would have hated it. I spent a few summers at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp near Muskegon, Michigan, which was basically a bunch of music stuff set outside and in cabins and rustic buildings. I loved the music stuff, hated all the rustic-ness. The dirt and bugs. The smell of pine trees. Ok, I didn't hate that, but I certainly didn't like the outdoors.

A year ago we went camping with the Smerglias, which was my very first time camping. I loved it! Fishing was my gateway drug to the hardcore stuff of camping and the outdoors. A couple months back Claire and I camped near the Mississppi- and I caught the biggest fish I've ever caught to date. This time, I was a very experienced camper- with two other campings under my belt, I felt like I could probably live in the wild with nothing but a knife and a fishing rod.

Of course, that's not true. I got about 60 seconds into setting up our tent when Claire had to come help me. I can't identify poison ivy. Ticks still freak me out. When Walter had two ticks on him after five minutes on the campground, there was a little groan inside of me. I forget to drink water and only remember to go fishing.

Camping combines a bunch of things I really like: being outside, grilling, fires, fishing, seeing animals, being dirty... When I was a kid I didn't get too dirty or play outside that much. Now's my time to make up for lost time!

Walter the fishing dog

 The night before, I think it was our second night camping, we were on a mission. Charlie wanted to catch a big catfish. Leo and I were more than willing to oblige, although it was a struggle to keep the kid entertained while our rods stood motionless, connected to our stationary offerings in the water. We had nightcrawlers on the hooks, I tried some topwater lures, but nothing was going for the bait. I reached into my fishing backpack and pulled out a hotdog. I cut off a piece with my fingers and strung it onto a big black hook and cast it out into the water.

The dark was illuminated by our three headlamps and the glow of our little electronic devices. Even the possibility of big fish couldn't keep me entertained all the time; I checked my Twitter while I waited for the big one.

It wasn't too long before there was some action. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a rod wiggle. I looked up, squinting in the dark, and saw it wiggle again. Fish on!

I think it was Leo's rod, if my memory serves me he was the first to hook into a fish. He battled the fish, reeling it in, and soon we saw a little brown fish come out of the water. A bullhead?! With the help of Leo's fishing gloves, I lipped it, and it proceeded to bite down on my thumb like I was caught in a door. Ouch! Good for you, bullhead.

Charlie and I posed for a picture. Not exactly the giant catfish we were hoping for, but at least we were in the ballpark!

late night bullhead!

So they like hotdogs, do they? I suppose it's not that strange... I like hotdogs too. I usually grill mine, but I don't think any fish have little grills down there. Probably hard to light.

We swapped out the bluegills for hotdog on all the rods. The nice thing about the way we hooked the 'gills is they swam away, apparently just fine. Most likely they will become some bass's midnight snack... But at least they have a chance.

After a few minutes, we all zoned out, turning back to our glowing devices. Occasionally I noticed the dark sky filled with glistening little points of light, enjoying how dark it was and how many stars I could see. I think I even saw some satellites or planes flying really high.

And then out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a rod jump. I looked up, but there was no movement. "Did that rod just move?" I asked Leo. We stared at the rod, but it wasn't moving. I stood up slowly, approaching the rod. I looked at the rod tip, and in the dark I could have sworn I saw some movement there. I picked up the rod, and holding it in my hands I was sure there was a fish on. "There's a fish!" I whispered. And then I felt it again. I swiftly yanked up the rod- Jeremy Wade style- and the fight was on. Fish on!

Leo jumped up, Charlie jumped up; I handed the rod to Charlie, hoping he'd have the chance to fight and reel in a big catfish. This fish felt big for sure- if it was a catfish, it was most certainly a biggun. Leo held onto the rod while Charlie tried to make sense of the backwards reel (he was used to the closed-reel type reels that usually come with the crank on the left) while I jumped up and down giggling. Charlie had a big smile on his face. The rod danced around in hands; at one point all three of us were holding the rod, helping to bring in this giant fish.

When we got it close, I looked down into the water, trying to identify it. Oh, channel cat. Awesome! "It's a channel cat!" I said/shouted. We reeled it in more. "No, it's a bass! A weird looking bass" we got it all the way to us, and it hung there attached to our line. "What the heck is that!?"

We were looking at a fish none of us had ever seen. It was smoother and more tapered than a bass, but it had tiny barbels like a catfish, a huge long dorsal fin, and a little spot on its tail.

Snakehead!??

I quickly dismissed that idea, having studied "River Monsters" like it was my college major, knowing that snakeheads have way more patterning on their scales... And aren't found this far north, at least for now. I thought I knew what it was.

"Bowfin!?" I said, pronouncing it like it rhymed with "poe-fin." I still don't know how to say it. "Dogfish!?"

Dogfish!

We giggled and high-fived, I held the fish in my boga-grip knockoff. I'd never seen a fish like this. I felt like we just caught a river monster! After a ton of pictures, we released the monster back into the water. We rebaited the hooks with the little bit of hotdog we had left (I had chummed the water a bit, I wonder if that's what brought in the fish...) and quickly googled dogfish on our devices to find out more about our new quarry. Almost immediately I found the Bowfin Anglers Group, a website dedicated to this awesome fish, and read every line of text I could find. So did Leo.

After a while, we ran out of bait, we were all pretty tired, so we made the hike back to camp. The whole way back we talked about how many dogfish there might be in this lake, and what they eat, and how big they get, and how we could find more, and the teeth they have, and how kind of scary it was, and how awesome it was, and on hotdogs.... We spent the rest of the night telling our wives stories of the monster we just caught and sharing facts we found on the internet.

°°°

And now, we were back out on the water. This was our last night camping, our last chance to catch a big fish. Leo had the idea to catch some bluegill and use them as bait. Earlier in the day, we saw a bass steal a 'gill off Leo's hook and devour it in a matter of seconds. It was one of the most awesome things I'd ever seen! I'd only fished with bluegill for flatheads, and wasn't sure we'd really catch anything here with them. Of course, I was dead wrong. Leo was right.

Right around sunset, we caught as many little bluegill as we could, and kept them in our little minnow bucket. We found the most- and the biggest- panfish in a shallow marshy area. The water couldn't have been more than 12 inches deep. In daylight, we could see every detail of the bottom of the pond, at least the area closest to us. Little panfish darted around. We caught a bunch of bluegill- Leo even caught a shiner! At least we think that's what it was.

So here we were, watching huge wakes and ripples move around the shallow water, wondering what those fish could be. We had a hunch, but couldn't be sure until we caught one. Leo guessed whatever they were, they were feeding on the plentiful bluegill in the little marshy area.

It couldn't have been more than a minute or two before something found my little bluegill. I felt a strong hit, just like when I'd been flatheading with Sam. "I got a hit!!" I yelled. I didn't feel any tension on the line. Did I miss it? And then it came back, perhaps circling around for the kill; the fish slammed into my bait like a freight train, I set the hook like I was trying to pull up the bottom of the pond.

Immediately, the fish knew it was hooked. It was not happy. 

The relative silence of the pond was decimated by more splashing than I'd ever seen or heard in my life. An octopus on speed would have made less noise than this. The fish almost pulled the rod right out of my hands. It made runs in all directions at once; there was so much water I'm surprised we didn't get soaked, as we were standing only a few feet away from the beast.

In the twilight, it was impossible to tell what it was. The rod bent over, I worried about it breaking. We were ecstatic! Leo and Charlie watched in eager anticipation, exclaiming, while I'm sure a steady stream of profanity flew out of my mouth. Charlie didn't seem to notice, he was intently watching the thrashing river monster we'd just hooked.

The fight was like no other fish I'd ever hooked into. It was strong. Although the giant drum I caught last time we were camping was huge and gave quite a fight, this fish was different. There was no frantic running around like a scared fish; this was calculated aggression against my hook. This fish wasn't running away, this fish was trying to beat the sh*& out of whatever had grabbed it.

The closer we got it, the more it thrashed. Once it was almost on us, we knew what it was. Another bowfin! Dogfish! Mudfish! Swamp trout! And a big one too. Much bigger than the one caught the night before. Maybe 30 inches long. And heavy.

I grabbed it with my boga-grips, and the three of us stood there admiring the fish, not sure how to proceed. Any movement on our end was met with muscular thrashing from the bowfin. Charlie had some unreasonable desire to put his fingers near its mouth, and each time the fish lashed out, trying to make a meal of Charlie's little fingers. We stared at the prehistoric fish. I was as scared of it as I was in awe of it. Even being gripped by a pair of metal fingers, I was sure the bowfin could kick my butt if it really wanted to.

Usually when I remove hooks from fish, I try not to hurt them. In this case, I tried to prevent my own fingers from getting bit off. I read 'fins can survive for 10-15 minutes out of water, using their primitive air bladder/lung to gulp air. They are extremely hardy fish. This one was clearly un-phased from our epic fight, and was still prepared to deal out retribution for hooking it.

The hook came out easily, and I thanked my lucky stars we landed the fish! Still nervous of the predator I held in my hands, we posed for some pictures. Definitely profile-pic worthy. Absolutely my favorite catch- ever.

What an amazing creature

After a few minutes of admiring our catch, Charlie's fingers wiggling dangerously close to the bowfin's mouth lined with little sharp teeth, we released it. It splashed into the water as if nothing had happened, quickly and powerfully swimming away.

We high-fived, excited by the incredible creature we'd just held, anxious to catch more! Now we knew what those wakes were- bowfin. There were at least four of them, swimming around dining on bluegill. It was amazing. In the dim light, the knowledge of what they were made it even creepier. I questioned the safety of my toes, so close to the water where these toothy animals roamed.

We tried some other spots, but weren't able to catch any more dogfish. I got a little bullhead later on hotdog, but that was the last fish we caught while camping. It paled in comparison to the incredibly powerful snake-like monster.

In fact, pretty much every fish I'd ever caught- ever- paled in comparison to the bowfin. I decided then and there to give up fishing for every other species. No more bass fishing, why bother with panfish (except for bait); trout will never see my flies again.

When I grow up I'm going to be a bowfin angler. I just need to learn how to pronounce "bowfin."

Even the biggest bass I've ever caught pales in comparison to this monster

CB Goes Flatheading

We got to the river's edge, armed with two rods, two chairs, bait, and some beers. It was around sunset. Sam and I walked into the river, looking more like we were going to a barbeque than going fishing. Opening our camp chairs up and setting them down in the gravel, we were glad the river was so low. About an inch clearance between our butts and the water.

Put a green sunfish on each hook and Sam showed me the casting technique for getting the bait where you want it without it flying off the hook. Once our bait was swimming around in the water, we sat down, cracked open some beers, and got down to business. Waiting for the fish.

I can only imagine what we looked like from shore, or from the bridge above us; two dudes relaxing in some foldout chairs who must have mistaken the river for the tailgate party parking lot. The water flowed around our ankles as we held the long white catfish rods in one hand and a beer in the other.

It didn't seem long at all before I felt something at the end of my line. This wasn't the greenie swimming around, this was a definite hit from something... A few seconds later my rod tip started to bend toward the horizontal, toward the fish that had taken my bait. I stood up, Sam stood up, and I prepared to set the hook... Just like I'd seen Jeremy Wade do so many times before when a giant catfish had taken his bait, just like Sam told me to do. When my rod was parallel to the water, I quickly cranked the reel and pulled up on the rod, setting the hook into the beast.

It knew immediately, and with the full force of every pound of its muscular body, it fought. Suddenly, it changed direction, coming directly toward us. Standing in water up to my ankles, I wondered if the fish was coming to ram me. Teach me a lesson. Get me off its property. Out of its territory.

Once it saw us, with a burst of energy its tail shot out of the water, slapping down, propelling its streamlined body away. Sam tried to grab the lip, but the fish had other ideas. After another short run, and a few tries, Sam grabbed the line and lipped the fish. He pulled out a beautiful creature, built like a tank and painted in camouflage: my first flathead catfish.

I tried to stiffle my giggling; after all, Sam is a serious river fisherman and this was a serious fish. No place for giggles, this was hardcore. Flatheads aren't messing around, they know what's up.

Sam grabbed some pliers and worked on removing the hook from the flathead's bony lip- I stood there like a little kid catching his first panfish, holding the rod, not sure what to do next, but excited.

Suddenly the catfish made its characteristic roll, getting free from Sam's grip and splashing back into the water. For a moment it just sat there, but when Sam reached down to grab it, it swam away like a torpedo. I watched the whole thing, standing motionless, in awe of the animal I had just seen.

He guessed it had been 23/24", an average specimen for the river. Average!? That was a BIG fish, wider, heavier, and longer than 99% of all the fish I catch. It could literally eat any of the 17 green sunfish I caught earlier in the day. It did, in fact, eat a green sunfish I caught earlier in the day.

I congratulated Sam on putting me on fish, he congratulated me on my first flathead, and we quickly re-hooked, re-baited, and re-cast the line. It was on.

I tried to focus, but was too excited by what had just transpired. The one that got away, but we certainly got a good look at it. We drank some more beers, utterred some more words of congratulations, and then 14 minutes later another THUMP on my line. A few seconds of nothing. Then another THUMP and my line took off.

My drag squeeled as the second monster of the night took off downstream; even in the dark we could see epic splashes coming out of the water. I gripped the rod as hard as I could, the powerful fish- definitely bigger than the first- using every ounce of its muscle to take my line and get away.

Then my line went slack, and I realized the fish was coming toward me. Ramming speed! Man your battle stations!

I adjusted my stance in the water to something I imagine baseball players doing before they get a pitch. A giant rock-colored fish-shaped pitch. I don't know much about baseball.

I quickly reeled in my line, trying to keep the tension on the aquatic rocket that was barreling toward me, against the current, perhaps aiming right for my knees where it could knock me down in the water. I realized my iphone was in my pocket and wondered why I hadn't brought a waterproof container for it.

And then the flathead saw us, and took off downstream once again. Every second I thought it was going to rip the rod right out of my hands, but somehow I managed to hold on for dear life. Every chance I got, I reeled in the slack line, keeping the pressure on my adversary.

Not so much adversary, more like sparring partner. To me "adversary" implies a lack of respect or contempt for the opponent; I have a huge amount of respect for this amazing fish, and certainly didn't want to hurt it. I simply wanted to spar a little, get our picture together, and put it on its merry way.

I got it close enough (read: the flathead decided to come closer to us) and Sam grabbed it. After a quick grab of the pliers, he held the most badass fish I've ever caught. We checked for tags and clipped adipose fins- the DNR in conjunction with the Fox Valley Flatheaders is doing a study of flathead catfish in the river- we got out the tape measure and it came in at 27". Not my longest or biggest fish, but without question the heaviest and beefiest, and certainly the most badass. This time Sam got a picture for me. (Sam also did a write up about the adventure on FoxRiverFishing.net)

What a fish. 27" Fox River flathead catfish

I held the muscular fish, admiring it's beautiful patterns. Up close it looked to me a lot like brown trout skin, although not quite as colorful. Just as striking though. A dark brown background with little black spots of varying sizes. I can only imagine how terrified a little sunfish would be if the rocks underneath him suddenly floated up, revealing a veritable river monster.

We released the fish, and what a fish it was. Once in the water, it didn't swim away. It calmly parked itself between Sam's feet in the water, as if to challenge us to a rematch. After a few moments, it swam away, probably giving us the finger.

Thanks to Sam for landing
and documenting this awesome fish
with some pictures

We didn't catch anymore flatheads, although Sam had a few hits and misses throughout the night. Waiting for the fish to bite we spent some time tag-team-hunting the bullfrogs that seemed to be everywhere. We both caught some, but we figured they were to scrawny to keep. For a moment we considered using one as flathead bait, as our supply was running low, but then reconsidered. Maybe next time.

We watched a wake circle the area in front of us that was almost certainly a flathead patrolling its spawning grounds. It was a big, calmly swimming fish near the surface, slowly cruising the waters in front of us. There were carp and some bass jumping, but this was a different kind of wake. A big badass of a fish looking for a meal, looking for a mate, or both. Maybe looking to pick a fight with us, sitting in camp chairs on the edge of its territory.

After we ran out of bait, we packed it up and waded to shore in the dark. Our butts soaking wet, beers empty, and big grins across both our faces, we headed down the dark path that lead to my car. An awesome experience to be sure; and an experience it was. A different, slower-paced style of fishing than I'm used to, but with a big payoff in the form of a giant apex predator. I can't help but respect this tank of a fish, the flathead catfish. If we ever met face to face I'm sure it would kick my ass.

Chris & Claire go fishing

I think I have time to get out a quick post...

Lately my time has been spent making lures, fishing, and working on my upcoming dub album. If you want to hear a few of the tracks, head on over to my tumblr. Once I'm done with all the tracks, I'll post the whole thing on music.chrisbeckstrom.com where you can stream it and download it for free. I'm pretty excited about it- I've been working on it for quite some time, and got some of my buddies to play on it, and they are awesome.

Most of last week I worked outside- my new job is remote, meaning I can pretty much work anywhere there's an internet connection. I work from home, so I've been taking advantage of the patio. Walter loves it, because he gets to hang out with me outside all day. Here's my "office" as of late:

"Please, step into my office. Watch out for the grill"

It's an amazing thing to head out of the "office" over to the grill for my lunch hour to enjoy some delicious grilled meat.

I've been turning out an average of a lure a day, some days three. My carving, sanding, painting, and hardware-adding is getting better and more predictable. I start with 2x4s, cut out the shapes I want, carve them with a little hobby knife, sand them down (sometimes not so well), paint with spray paint, acrylic, and nail polish, and add hardware. Recently I've made a few emulating some vintage lures I've seen- the whole white body red head thing is pretty awesome.

Topwater torpedo-style lure

This one started as a jitterbug clone, but I added a tail
and two propellors for good measure
I'm calling it mousie

..and this one looks pretty nice, but
is a complete failure in the water...
back to the drawing board

This weekend Claire and I did a lot of fishing together. We went to Blackwell Forest Preserve (Silver Lake) for the first time, and really liked it. Very pretty, big hills, awesome. We fished along the shore, then somehow we decided we should keep on walking and continue around the whole shore. Halfway through we realized what a huge distance it was and how we would have to scale an almost vertical path into the woods if we wanted to continue... We turned around and retraced our steps back to the boat launch.

There was a goose standing in the road like a moron, and when a car came up to it the driver honked profusely and yelled "Get off the road a$$&*#!" without a hint of sarcasm.

We went to check out a dog park, and noticed it was very close to the Dupage river. We decided to go and check it out, as neither one of us had ever been to that particular body of water. My first time wet-wading (wading without waders) and I loved it. The cool water was a welcome respite from the 95°F air.

The water was only about a foot deep, and looking at the stretch I guessed if there were fish, they would be hanging out under the bridge where it might be a little deeper and shaded. Turns out I was right! Claire and I fished some brush piles, rocks, and the bridge itself for about an hour. My wife, as I found out, is quite an angler. She caught her first smallie right there under the bridge- and then proceeded to catch 6 more! (Maybe it was 5, don't remember.. I was trying so hard to catch my own smallies, unsuccessfully, I was distracted.)

A nice smallie for a kick-ass wife

I managed to catch 4-5 green sunfish. Claire had the magical touch; she kept pulling out smallie after smallie while I struggled to entice a handful of 3" green sunfish. It was awesome- the water was incredibly clear; even in the dark under the bridge, we could make out every pebble of gravel on the bottom. I saw some crawfish scurry away, which was perhaps another reason the fish were there. Although I didn't do so well in terms of fish caught, it was some of the best fishing ever. Great weather, great company, just super great all around.

The next day, in an effort to avenge my dismal numbers (and explore the lake more fully) we headed back to Silver Lake with our kayaks. After about half an hour of waiting in line, waiting for somebody to come break our $50 bills, and $70 later we had Dupage county boat licenses and were ready to launch.

Almost immediately I got a little largemouth bass on a twister tail; he was hanging out with some bluegill under the shade of some trees in very shallow water. I wondered if he was eating bluegill eggs/fry.

Baby bass

The water was ridiculously clear; we could see very far down into the water. I wondered if that has to do with the lake's beginning as a quarry, or the types of weeds in it, or lack of mud, or what. Earlier in the day I installed a third rod-holder in my kayak, as well as a strap to hold my new fish finder. It was great- paddling around, armed to the teeth with fishing gear, seeing fish hanging out on all the dropoffs- just where I thought they would be.

Couldn't catch any more though; Claire on the other hand was slay'in'em, catching her first two crappies (and first fish in the kayak too!)

Claire's serious angler pose

We're both super impressed with Silver Lake and the whole preserve. It's a bit of a hike for us, but it's worth it. There seem to be a fair amount of fish in it, even if we couldn't catch too many of them. The shockingly clear water is a revelation to me, I can't wait to go back. I know clear water doesn't necessarily equate to clean water, but I think I might come back and do some bluegill fishing. I've got a filet knife that's never seen a fish, and would like to change that sooner than later. Great times with the wife, awesome times exploring new waters.

99 Fishing Trips

I go fishing a lot. Every trip used to be a huge adventure; setting foot into the outdoors was a major production because of my unfamiliarity of it. Going to Busse and exploring the Amazon had a lot more in common to me than improvising over the chord changes to Cherokee at 300 beats per minute. That I could do. Since then, I've spent a great deal of my time outside. Many weeks I'll go fishing every day, sometimes more than once per day. A lot of these trips are quick and to the point, without much adventure or story to relate... But I do want to record some of the highlights of the past week or two- the parts I haven't yet posted. Here goes...

Claire and I went fishing on Lake Pleasant in Michigan (near Hillsdale); I caught a bunch of little bass, and hooked into one on her "last cast" real close to shore, but it threw the hook.

Walter and me on the way to Lake Pleasant

My father in law let me tag along with him to his golf club- while he golfed, I caught 10 awesome largemouth bass out of some golf course ponds. My first time fishing a golf course (with permission or otherwise)! 9 of the bass came on a Heddon Torpedo I found floating at Busse a while back. It was amazing; a landscaper driving by on a riding lawnmower gave me a tip to use something that floats and makes a lot of noise to land fish there, he'd been fishing there for many years. I tied on the Torpedo, cast it out, and the bass took swipes at it. I didn't even have to move it much, once it landed on the water usually three or four bass would come investigate, eventually smashing into the lure like a ton of bricks.

This one apparently swallowed a little animal...
Mouse? Muscrat? I'd never seen that before!

Probably the biggest of the day.. I don't usually put fish
on the ground, but this one fell. It was probably
a safer way to remove the treble hooks too

I've been looking for new ponds to fish; my go-to retention pond is almost entirely filled with weeds and a thick floating scum. The fish are still there, and they're still biting, but sometimes I want to use a crankbait! I "discovered" a new, tiny pond next to an office building. Surprisingly, it doesn't say "No Fishing." I pulled some fairly big green sunfish out of there on my trusty jig and twister.

Big ol' green sunfish- hit like a bass!

I went night fishing the other day, hoping to catch another one of the retention pond catfish. Something possessed me to use hotdogs as bait. The internet says you can do that, so I did. After tremendous difficulty casting without tossed the hotdogs off the hook and into the water, I finally managed to get a line in the water with a hotdog on it. While that stewed I tossed out some topwaters for bass, which got hits every so often. Nobody connected though; it wasn't all bad, as I got to watch the almost-full moon rise and try out my new headlamp with a red LED. Pretty sweet. When I was packing up, around 12:15am, when I went to reel in my hotdog line there was something connected- something big! After a pretty awesome but short fight, I saw exactly what I hoped to see. A big old (channel?) cat.

23" (channel) cat caught on hotdog!

I recently started a new job; it's fast-paced and exciting, I'm really enjoying it, and because I'm working from home my commute is substantially shorter. For the most part, when I close up shop in the "office" I head out for some fishing. Much of it has been local, especially in the morning and at lunch. When I'm not fishing, I've been making lures. I think I'm getting the hang of it now; I've probably made 15-20 wooden lures now. Some of them work great, some are complete failures.. but I learn from each one and use that experience on the next.

My copycat of a Heddon Torpedo, made out of cedar
This one got a lot of hits at night at the pond

Glow-in-the-dark firetiger crank made of balsa

That firetiger crankbait, which glows in the dark because I mixed green, yellow, and glow paint together, might be my most successful crank yet. I made a little video (and the music) of the lure in action.

And then yesterday morning, I caught a fish on it!

I carved it, painted it, fished it, and caught this fish with it

This one dives medium deep and has a nice wobble. So far
one fish has taken a swipe at it

Oh yeah, and I got a fish finder! It's a Hummingbird Piranhamax 160. So far I've taken it out twice, and I love it. It's great to find out what's beneath me. I took it on the yak to Busse, found some fish in some deep holes, but couldn't get them to connect. I also took it to a big local retention pond (not the retention pond) and discovered the whole pond is about 2-3 feet deep with a thick mud bottom.

Yesterday I hit the local pond with my new fly rod for about 10 minutes and saw tons of little bluegill hanging out in very shallow water. I caught about 5 or 6 of them in rapid succession; one I didn't even know I hooked and ended up back-casting it 20 feet away from the pond! It seemed fine when it swam away.

Last night I kayaked the big retention pond; didn't catch any fish but I did catch two bullfrogs mostly by accident. It seems they'll take anything! I considered keeping it after reading Dan the Impractical Fisherman's post about bullfrog legs, but read the season for them doesn't open until June 15. When the season opens, might I keep a frog or two and try some wild-caught frog legs? When the zombie apocalypse happens I might need to...

Whew, that was a lot of fishing trips. Last night marked my 99th fishing trip of the year. I've caught 111 fish of 13 different species in two different states while kayaking, wading, shore fishing, still fishing, and fly fishing, at pretty much all times of day, on live bait, grocery store items, and lures both store-bought and homemade.

I caught my first walleye a couple weeks ago. I even almost caught a fish with my bare hands! I think I've had a great fishing year so far; I've learned a whole lot, spent a bunch of time outside, and generally had a great time doing it.

Although I've learned a huge amount about fishing, the primary thing I've discovered out of all these trips is how much I like the outdoors. I like catching fish, but if I had to be inside to do it, I doubt I would have gone fishing 99 times this year.

CB Goes Fly Fishing

In an effort to get these posts written up and out there (I've got about 9 completely undocumented trips I want to tell you about!) I'll keep this short and to the point. Edit: I'll try and keep this short and to the point. Already I'm rambling.

Rogue River guide Rob Vink

Rob took me back to the good old Rogue River; after demonstrating proper fly casting technique for me, I butchered it entirely, but yet he put a fly rod in my hand and told me where to cast. It's a small miracle I even made it to where we were standing in the river, after tripping over every rock and slipping on every weed along the way. Rob moved through the woods like some kind of cougar, he navigated the rocks in the river like some kind of river creature. Although I followed the same path he took through the water, every step or so I almost ended up face down in the river. He claimed it was his experience, but I think maybe he had magic wading boots.

After a few tries, I somehow managed to get the tiny little dry fly to land kind of where Rob told me to put it. It was so strange, all that line flying around all over the place; the little tiny fly indistinguishable to me among all the other stuff floating on the surface of the water. Eventually I got the hang of it, kind of. I created huge tangles of the strangely thick and colored line every other cast, got the fly caught on trees, and generally felt like a total newbie. I was a total newbie; just like when I first started fishing a couple years back. It was frustrating and exciting.

I did my best to keep up with Rob's cat-like navigation of the river. I didn't fall in, but I came extremely close every few steps. We made it to a spot, Rob told me where to cast, I did my best to get the fly there... and then... there was a fish on the end of my line.

And I didn't know how to reel it in!

I asked Rob how to reel it in, holding the line with my left hand, the fish just splashing around. I wondered if it wondered what I was waiting for. Following his instructions, I pulled the weird colorful line with my left hand while he got out his fancy trout net. In a few seconds the fish was netted, and I had landed - with Rob's help - my first fish on the fly!

First fish on the fly!

It was awesome- when I hooked the little rainbow trout it felt like I was grabbing it with my arm. When it did it's thing and tried to swim away, I had the sensation I was holding it by a string. Which I kind of was.

I couldn't believe that smart little fish could, out of all the stuff floating on the surface of the water in that scum line, pick out my fly and identify it as possible food.

I also couldn't believe I caught three more in the next hour or so- on the fly! As we waded, I practiced my back cast. That contributed to my constant tripping, but I think it also made my casting better. Pretty soon it was dark, Rob caught some trout too, and we headed back to the truck after a successful trip.

°°° 

The coda to my little fly fishing prelude, if you'll let me get away with writing something like that, is the fly rod and reel combo I bought when I got back to Illinois. After spending an hour trying to make sense of all the new terms- backing, fly line, tapered leader, tippet - and learning some new knots, Claire and I headed to the pond. Since she encouraged (read: tolerated) my purchase of a fly rod, she made the first few casts on it. It was tough, due to the weeds everywhere and the scum all over the pond. Pretty soon she switched to a spinning rod and I manned the fly setup.

First cast, my dry fly hit the water nice and light, I saw a bluegill come up and take it, swim away, and it was on! I reeled in the line with my hand, and there it was: my first fish on my first fly rod.

There! Can you see it?

I caught a bunch more 'gills, and even got a bass! As the sun set, we kept on casting. Once it started to get dark I realized why I'd never heard of night-fly-fishing. But we kept catching fish.

First bass on the fly

While I struggled to control my fly line as the sun set, Claire caught two nice bass on a texas-rigged chigger craw I set up for her. Although I caught more fish by number, she caught more fish by weight. I'm fine with that arrangement.

Claire and her nice bass

Where's CB and is he fishing?

The answer is right here and yes, of course I'm fishing.

A variety of circumstances have prevented me from my usual flurry of blog posts as of late... One of them is the new job I started last week. So far I'm very much enjoying it- I'm working from home, my new coworkers are awesome, the job is exciting and interesting, and there's a lot to learn. Since I'm working from home, those 3 hours I used to spend on my commute are no longer travel time anymore.

It was during those 3 hours of travel I wrote most of my blog posts. Sitting on the metra, typing on my laptop; that's where most of CB Fishes came from.

The story behind this brown trout?

It didn't feel like hanging around for another picture

Now, there is no transit time to my job (besides the 10 second walk up the stairs). Once I'm done with work, instead of sitting down and writing new posts I head out into the world and go fishing. Or kayaking. Or pretty much anything else besides sitting down in front of a computer and typing up a post.

I've certainly had some adventures recently- now they're getting older, sitting on the shelves of my "need to blog about this" library. Last weekend in Michigan I experienced my first canoe trip with Mark and Rob, caught some trout; then went fly fishing for the first time under the expert tutelage of Rob Vink, fly fishing master. Naturally, I came back to Illinois and purchased a fly rod/reel combo. Saturday night Claire and I went to the local pond, where I proceeded to catch 3 bluegill and a nice largemouth bass on the fly!

First cast, first flyrod, first bluegill on the fly

It's been exciting, with the fly rod in my hand I feel like a complete novice, the way I felt with a spinning rod about a year ago. To be clear, I'm still a total newbie to fishing, but at least I know how to handle a spinning rod and jig. The fly rod, well, that's another story. I can catch some fish with it, but I have a suspicion I'm doing it wrong...

Claire caught this one on a black and red chigger craw

Should I still blog about adventures that are more than a week old? I think I will. When will I be doing that? A very good question. In the meantime, I'll keep posting new pictures to Instagram and Facebook should you be so inclined to see the most recent catches even without the story behind them. I've also gotten on the Twitter bandwagon: follow @cbfishes to get a stream of mostly fishing-related posts shorter than 140 characters. And a bunch of pictures too.

One of 5 smallies I pulled out from one spot
on the Rogue River in Michigan

Early Wednesday Fishing

As some of you may know, I am leaving my current job at Columbia College Chicago. Next week I will begin working at ChartCapture, doing tech support among other things. You may know about ChartCapture through fellow fishermen like Sam Bennett.

I won't be spending 3 hours a day commuting like I do now, I'll be working from home... That means I won't have the daily opportunity to fish downtown Chicago. Since this is my last week at Columbia, I decided I'd try and make the most of my last chance to fish while I'm there already. I woke up at 4am, downed a few cups of coffee, and hopped in the car, joining the already growing traffic on 290.

I parked at exactly 5am sharp, and reached Burnham Harbor Marina by 5:15. I was shocked and dismayed to find the gate leading to the choice spot at the pipe padlocked. Before I got too bent out of shape, I reminded myself fish can be everywhere, even away from "the good spot." I set up shop: one rod with crawlers under a bobber, the other with various jigs, cranks, spinners, and of course tubes.

Lake side at Burnham

I fish almost exclusively with lures, rarely fishing with nightcrawlers, and almost never with minnows. It's not that I'm against it, it's just convenient to carry all necessary fishing gear in my backpack as I go to work. Trying to transport minnows would make things tricky.

Because of that, I have this idea that if I use live bait- like worms- I'll have to fight the fish off with a stick. Turns out, this is not necessarily the case. I threw my bobber out, and was astonished it didn't get a single hit for at least five minutes. After a while, I finally managed to pull up a tiny bluegill, which of course is better than no fish.

Better than nothing!

I worked a small homemade inline spinner along the wall, perhaps hoping for any stray trout or salmon that might be in the harbor, and noticed many follows as I retrieved the lure. But they only followed when I burned the lure through the water super quickly. It reminded me of the baby trout on the Rogue River in Michigan; I only caught some when I increased the speed of my retrieve.

I had trouble keeping the spinner deep while I cranked it in, especially fishing from the pier six feet above the water. No matter what I did, I couldn't connect with any fish. I remembered some WCF members suggesting if I'm getting follows I'm close to the right presentation, so I tried a few other spinners and cranks. Some didn't get any follows, some did, but ony when I sped the lure through the water like a bat out of hell.

Frustrated, I decided to fish the other side, the lake side. I hauled my gear over a fence, jumped it myself, and found myself next to very calm water looking north to downtown Chicago. I set up at the pipe, and when I looked down I was amazed at what I saw in the water: a HUGE swarm of fish. The kind you see on the discovery channel on shows about the ocean. There were so many of them! I have no real way of estimating how many but I'd have to guess hundreds.

It was amazing! The water was very clear, and as the school swam around, the sun reflected on hundreds of tiny fish bodies like a chandelier in some underwater mansion. Occasionally I saw a much bigger fish chase some of the smaller fish. That was pretty cool; I don't often have the opportunity to see that.

And then I remembered to fish, so I did. I was sure one of those small fish would be interested in my night crawler, so I plopped it down in the water in the middle of the swarm. I couldn't figure out what they were... We're they shad? Baby bass? Alewives?

None of them were the slightest bit interested in my bait. When I tossed a jig and twister into their midst, they followed it around as long as I kept it moving, but lost interest when it was still. Just like trout.

Were these trout!!?

And then I saw a trio of giant carp, or at least what I thought were carp, cruising around the rocks near the swarm of little unknown fish. I saw another fish that wasn't a carp, but couldn't tell if it was a smallie, trout, salmon, or something else. Nothing I tossed into the water got any attention. Night crawlers on a makeshift crappie rig off the bottom, under a bobber, jigged; it seemed no presentation could entice these fish.

Finally I caught a goby. I may or may not have put it back on the hook. And it may or may not have elicited a strike from something, that may or may not have reminded me of a smallmouth bass... But alas, I missed the hook set and it didn't happen again.

After at least an hour and three gobies later, I decided to go back to the first spot. Some marina guys came and unlocked the gates, finally, so I made my way to the spot at the pipe. When I looked in the clear water, sure enough there was a swarm of fish there too. Still couldn't tell what they were, but I was excited to watch the fish. At one point I saw something I was positive was a big smallmouth bass, swimming casually a few feet under the swarm, but it was not interested in anything I dangled in front of its face.

And then I started to get follows again, burning a deep diving black and white crankbait through the water. It was very curious; there was a small window of speed, not slow but not like a bullet, where the little unknown fish would follow my lure. They lined up behind it, chasing it all the way back to me. It was exciting.

After about fifty casts parallel to the wall in front of the pipe, I figured out the right speed to attract the most fish. Suddenly, I felt a tiny amount of resistance on my crankbait that told me I had a fish on! And then I found out what those fish were.

Baby steelhead and the lure it took

That swarm of hundreds of little fish were baby steelhead trout! As soon as I realized what I had caught, I took a picture extremely quickly and got it back in the water in as little time as possible. I knew that these little guys would grow much bigger, and in three or four years would become the giant and delicious adult steelheads that I've had so little luck catching. I didn't want to mess up their childhood, I wanted them to grow big and strong. I marveled at the audacity of this little trout, to attack a lure about the same size as itself.

Now that I knew what they were, I stopped fishing for them. I wondered if these were stocked trout recently released by the DNR. Either way,  I didn't want to bother them and negatively affect the steelhead fishing in the future. Looking in the water, I noticed another school of fish that looked similar to the baby steelhead, but were brown. Could those be baby brown trout?

I threw a night crawler on the bottom on the off chance one of the giant carp might go for it, although there was no real way I'd be able to land one from the pier. I threw bass lures, trying to bring the smallies- supposedly "in the harbors now"- out of hiding. An hour later, it was time to go to work. I was really happy to add another species to my "species scoreboard 2012" and I hoped I didn't harm the beautiful little fish.

As I walked back to toward the city, dreams of adult steelhead and brown trout and giant lake Michigan smallies filled my head.

°°°

Although my haul of fish wasn't huge yesterday morning, I'm very happy with the variety of fish I've been catching! In the past 7 days, I've caught green sunfish, smallmouth bass, bullhead catfish, freshwater drum, bluegill, perch, walleye, gobies, largemouth bass, and this beautiful little steelhead trout. For a while I fished just for largemouth bass, but I see no reason to discount all the other great fish you can catch. They're all different, they all require different approaches, and I like the challenge of learning how they all operate. Someday when the zombie apocalypse happens, I might be glad I can catch more than just bass. 

Fish are awesome!

My first walleye!

I've been wanting to catch and eat some fish for quite some time, but it never works out. If I catch some eating-quality bluegill, I have to go to work and don't have a cooler. If I have a cooler, nobody bites. In an effort to try and catch some food, I made my first trip to Mallard Lake Monday evening.

I was sure that nightcrawlers under a bobber would do the trick, but all I caught were 3" gills. Perhaps all the eating sized ones have been harvested already, perhaps many others have had the same idea I did. Perhaps I shouldn't even eat fish from Mallard, or any other forest preserve lake...

While I had crawlers under the bobber, I threw out one of my favorite go-to lures, the white jig and twister. It really seems like under the right circumstances, that lure can catch anything that swims. All of the sudden I got a hit, another hit, bumpbumpbump, and I had a fish on! When I reeled it in I wasn't sure it was still on, but turns out it was just very small. My first Mallard fish, and my first perch of 2012! Not quite eating size though.... but I was excited to catch it!

Perch!

I've read perch travel in schools, so if there's one there may be more. I continued casting, hoping to find some bigger perch. A few casts later, I got a completely different kind of hit. It felt like branches, and then nothing. I wondered if I'd lost it... When I reeled in I knew almost immediately what it was, and to say I was overjoyed would be a huge understatement.

My first walleye!

I'm pretty sure I shouted "WALLEYE!!!" at the top of my lungs, and everybody on the path stopped and looked at me. That's ok, they should know how excited I was to finally catch a walleye.

Was it the tiniest walleye I could possibly imagine? Yes.
If I dropped it in the grass would it disappear due to it's diminutive size? Absolutely.
Did I care? Not in the least.

One of my main fishing goals for the year was to catch a walleye, and I did it. I admired its ferocious teeth and amazing coloring, forgetting about it's spiked gill plates. It didn't draw blood, but almost.

I took a few pictures, thanked it for letting me catch it, and carefully released it back into the water.

I'm still excited about catching this little guy

Sparring with smallmouth bass

After a delicious meal of various BBQ'ed meats, beans, and cornbread with my lovely wife, there was only one thing I could do. Night fishing!

I started the "2012 Fishing Season" (i.e. January 1-December 31) with a few goals- catch a walleye and a pike. Since then I've been adding things like "catch a carp" and "catch a monster catfish on a live bluegill." I decided to try for the latter this outing. But first, of course, I'd have to catch a bluegill.

The pond was almost completely covered with thick, mucous-like weeds. In the dark, I could see only a few spots where the water surface reflected the cloudy sky. The rest was weeds. Using my new glow-in-the-dark bobber and my not-so-new glow-in-the-dark charger thing (looks like a glasses case; you put a lure inside and it flashes to make it glow) I was able to fish with a bobber in the dark. Pretty soon I had a nice bluegill that went after a 1" Gulp minnow.

Night fishing for bluegill

It seemed too big to use as bait, so I carefully tossed it back into the muck. That was a mistake, because I wasn't able to catch another one. That one must have told it's little brothers and sisters to avoid my offerings. I suppose I could have used it as "cut bait" (which is a nice way of saying "disassembled bluegill pieces") but I'm not ready for that yet. Seems cruel unless I'm the one eating it. Then again I don't feel that way about cutting up nightcrawlers, so where is the line?

I enjoy night fishing tremendously, especially when the weather is nice. Things are quieter than usual, except for the constant roar of the many expressways that surround our suburb. Sometimes I dream of living somewhere where there isn't an expressway ever few miles, but then I think of how inconvenient that must be. I wonder if I would prefer the convenience or the silence. Not to mention the planes flying overhead every three minutes or so; the pond is due west of one of O'Hare's landing paths, so there are always low-flying planes passing by. Sometimes loudly.

But yes, I still like it- and I also enjoy the new sound of frogs at the pond. I heard at least two different types of frogs croaking. Every time I hear frogs I'm amazed at how freaking loud they are. The whole pond was filled with the sounds of frogs, which helped drown out the expressways and the planes.

The next day, Saturday, I hit the road and headed west. I was standing on the bank the Fox River with my new wading boots 45 minutes after leaving my house. It was a beautiful day- warm enough I immediately took off my jacket and enjoyed wearing short sleeves while wading. Haven't had too many of those occasions since my first time wading back in October.

I walked up to the edge and saw a boil on the surface- I've been seeing a lot of that lately. I think it means big fish chasing smaller fish. I happened to have a black spinnerbait tied on (from the previous night at the pond) so I casually tossed it into the water. One hit, then another; seemed like I was getting stuck on branches.

And then in an erupting of water, a big smallmouth bass came to the surface, shaking it's head at me. From the shore, this looked like the biggest smallie I'd ever hooked into! My drag was set too loose, and it was able to pull out a ton of line. I couldn't keep the tension, especially not standing from the shore. As I admired it's size and tenacity, I noticed the spinner fly out of it's mouth and land on the shore next to me.

Well, that's ok, I thought. Maybe there were more.

After fan-casting the area, I carefully entered the water. Pretty soon I sacrificed my black spinner to the river gods, and tied on a lure that has been successful for me so many times before: The tube jig. Lately it seems the smallies want a very particular color- olive- and will pass up anything darker or lighter. I usually carry a variety of colors, and I've been testing them to see which ones get more hits. Perhaps it's more than just the color, but the smell or the material (I buy various brands indiscriminately) but I feel like it's the color.

And so began one of the most fun times fishing I've had yet this year! Hit after hit, smallies attacking the lure and quickly throwing it out of their mouths. Some came to the surface and I was able to see them. Most stayed down in the water, but I could feel them. I hadn't had this kind of action, well, maybe ever! Even though I wasn't catching any, it sure was fun to spar with strong river bronzebacks.

All of the sudden something changed, and I caught three in a span of ten minutes. Three! Most of my fishing trips this year ended in the skunk, only a few had a a single fish to post; this was excellent. I found them everywhere along the shore. I was standing in a big, extremely slow eddy that was far from the main current or any seams. These fish were just hanging out by the shore, ignoring the seams and current where I have found them in the past. My new buddy Sam Bennett and the internet tell me higher waters will push fish toward the shore, and this certainly was happening. With all the rain we've gotten recently, the Fox was high and strong, and these fish were chilling out feet from the shore.

I was glad they were, because when I tried to get close to any current, the strong flow gave me reason to turn back around and go back to the shore.

One of three nice fish caught on Saturday

All three were about the same size- around 12" and somewhat beefy. I find myself returning them to the water very quickly most of the time, not even thinking about weighing them or measuring them. I was just happy to catch them and return them safely to fight another day. Then again, if I caught a really big one, you can bet your ass I'd bust out the scale so I could brag to the nearest ounce and closest inch.

Another one (this one was fatter)

Just as soon as the smallie-fest began, it stopped, and they weren't hitting my tube anymore. I tried spinners, cranks, some new home-assembled swim jigs (football head jigs.. are those swim jigs?) and good old reliable twister tails, but no more takers. I tried a few other spots; I saw a carp swimming in very shallow water, it's dorsal fin sticking out of the water like a vegetarian shark, but no other fish volunteered to be pulled around the river.

The sun set, and I kept fishing. I really, really, really want to catch a walleye. The main reason is because I haven't done it before. Once I catch one, maybe I'll be satisfied. But until then, every chance I get, I'll be bombarding the river with skinny crankbaits at sunset, looking for Mr. Walter.

I tried casting my cranks along deep holes I had inadvertently discovered earlier. I hear they like holes and trenches. I also tried casting parallel to the banks, because I also hear they like to swim along the shore around sunset. If you've read ahead, you'll notice I don't have a picture of a beautiful walleye and me together. I did not hook into anything else after those smallies, as hard as I tried as night fell.

My last cast was decided for me: I made a hard, long cast downstream. Immediately I heard a small "ping" and watched my little crankbait fly through the air, untethered by any kind of fishing line. It was dark, and the water was rushing all around; I didn't even hear it splash in the water. Another lure sacrificed to the gods of the river, that they may someday permit me to find one of their elusive walleyes.

Sunset

The pond explodes with fish

You can't see them, but there are 20-30 little
fish right under the bobber in this picture

When I got to the pond yesterday afternoon, I wasn't sure what kind of fishing I would be enjoying. The series of storms passing through the area, the hot and humid weather, watching bass on their beds a few days ago... When I walked up to the pipe I watched a very nice sized bass casually swim away about two inches from the water surface.

What I found was pretty crazy- the water was rising from all the storm water coming down the pipe, and the pond was teeming with fish. I saw literally HUNDREDS of little fish, no bigger than an inch, swimming around in schools near the surface. Thanks to my polarized sunglasses, I could see almost to the shallow bottom. They were hanging out in weeds, next to any kind of structure. They looked like bluegills to me; but then I saw lots of little skinny fish that looked a lot like bass fry. It's almost like overnight all these baby fish had been born!

It also seemed like the huge resident bass population was having a field day making quick snacks of these little fish. Every so often I saw huge boil on the surface, accompanied by loud splashing, that I was sure was big bass eating these little fish.

I brought two rods with me- and slip bobber rig with a gulp minnow to catch some bluegill, and my regular rod rigged with a chigger craw (which had been so successful just a few hours before). My idea was to catch a little bluegill and use it as catfish bait, to see if I could land any of the big cats in the pond.

Since I could see the fish react to my bait, it was an unusually informative fishing experience. 20-30 fish would gather around my bobber, trying to figure out what it was, while a few bigger fish congregated around the bait. They nipped it, but for the most part wouldn't commit. I was able to land a nice bluegill, but I though it would be too big for catfish bait. It was a pretty nice fish though!

A nice pond bluegill with some nice colors

I let the bobber hang out, and I cast with the chigger craw. No hits, so I cycled through texas-rigged worms, spinners, crankbaits, and nobody was the slightest bit interested. It occurred to me the bass might be stuffed from the buffet of tiny fish snacks everywhere, or put off by the storm fronts, or something else.

I fished for about two hours and only caught that one bluegill. It wasn't a total waste for sure, because I learned a lot watching the fish. I am even more convinced now that the pond has a flat bottom that stays around 3-4 feet, and the fish relate to weeds more than changes in bottom contour. I can see why so many people learned how to fish fishing ponds like this: the lessons learned here can be applied to other waters.

I'll be back soon, to trick some more bass and find some more big cats... And if there are carp in there, I'm going to find them too.

24" Catfish caught on topwater! And a nice largemouth

Leo and his first Illinois fish

After we consumed many huge slices of Chicago-style deep dish pizza, Leo suggested we go back out to fish. It was about 10 or 10:30pm I think, but it seemed like a great idea to me. I put my long underwear and warm clothes back on, we grabbed our gear from the mini, and walked off into the darkness headed for the pond.

I've fished the retention pond many many times, often on the way to or from the train on my commute.. But I'd never fished it at night. It was about 45°F outside, a little bit of light coming from the waxing (?) moon, but we had a headlamp and a flashlight between us. After a short 1/2 mile walk, we arrived at the spot- really the only access to the pond not protected by a thick wall of tall grasses - and began casting. Leo stood on the pipe - the prime spot on the pond, and I stood a little to the left, on what I think is a pipe that the other way. The other day I'd seen water running into it, which was a new thing.

I knew there were many many bass in the pond, and hoped Leo could hook into some! A silver roostertail on the end of his line, he began casting. I opened my tacklebox to choose my weapon- I found my go-to night-fishing lure: a big black spinnerbait. As I was tying a big'ol' palomar knot, I heard splashes and saw Leo had a fish on. I dropped my rod and turned on my headlamp, and ran over to Leo and his fish.

Leo unhooking his catch in the dark

After a short fight, he got it out of the water. A bass! Not the biggest largemouth to come out of there, but definitely not the smallest (I had the dubious honor of catching the smallest a few days back - that 4" largemouth that took my homemade inline spinner). It's always hard taking pictures in the dark, but of course we always have to document each catch. Leo's first Illinois fish! It was also his first fish on an inline spinner. This pond is good for firsts- I was so happy Leo got a fish, and his $5 for a 24 hour fishing license had been put to good use.

I began casting the black spinnerbait into the darkness, waiting for the plop and then reeling it in. Leo mentioned how strange it is not being able to see your lure or where it lands. Night fishing is a strange thing. A few months ago I snuck into a secret location, threw a very similar black spinnerbait and hooked into the biggest bass I'd ever seen. Fighting it in the dark (this was before I had a headlamp) was a strange and new experience for me, and it was relatively difficult. I ended up landing the beast, and taking a few subpar pictures of it on my iPhone camera.

Back to the pond, I was quickly tiring of cleaning off pounds of weeds from my spinner. I decided to switch to topwater, mostly to avoid all the weeds below the surface. I also knew that topwater could be a successful night-fishing technique, but never had too much luck with it. I grabbed my white and blue jitterbug (I had the black one somewhere and would have chosen that, but couldn't find it just then) and tied it to my line. At least that would float on the top and avoid all the weeds! Maybe it would catch a nice bass too.

Leo switched to a nightcrawler under a bobber, in the hopes of catching something else- perhaps a bluegill (which I hadn't seen here in weeks) or a catfish. I'd heard there were catfish in there, but I'd never caught any or seen any swimming around in the dirty brown water. Perhaps they'd come out at night?

I cast out my jitterbug, waited about 10-15 seconds, then slowly reeled it in, stopping it every few feet and letting it sit. Leo casted out his crawler-bobber rig right in front of the pipe. We were astonished nothing was biting it! As we talked about the lack of action with the live bait, I absent-mindedly cast my jitterbug out, letting it sit motionless for long periods of time because I was staring at Leo's bobber. It didn't make sense- where did all the bluegill go? Why weren't any bass taking the nightcrawler? Weren't there supposed to be catfish out at night? It was strange. I began to get sleepy, losing focus, and thinking about my belly full of delicious Giordano's pizza.

There was an incredibly huge splash to my left, out in the water- "Whoa!!" I yelled. So there were fish here! I was excited that there was some activity, and even more excited when I heard my drag screaming and realized whatever caused the splash was on the end of my line. "Fish! Fish! FISH!" I yelled. My drag filled the air with agonizing sounds of its buzzing, the monster on my line thrashing around, jumping, like a cannonball being repeatedly dropped in the water. My heart raced, I was suddenly completely awake. I hoped my 10 pound line wouldn't snap, and the monster fish wouldn't throw the hook.

"Please don't throw the hook, please don't throw the hook," I said, not sure if I said it out loud or not.

I brought in the fish closer, my rod becoming a horseshoe instead of a straight line. At first I thought this was a big largemouth, but the way it was fighting was not like other largemouths. And it was strong- VERY strong. I strained to see the fish, but my leadlamp was off and there was very little ambient light. I couldn't see what it was.

I managed to bring it closer to shore, about 2 feet in front of me, but I paused before lifting it out of the water. I still couldn't tell what kind of fish it was. I was seriously worried my line - or rod!- would break as soon as I pulled up to get this guy out of the water. Throwing caution to the wind, I lifted my rod up, feeling the full weight of this beast on my line, and successfully got the fish on land. Normally I try not to let fish touch the ground, lest their protective slime coating get brushed off - I want these fish to survive, and grow bigger! I wasn't prepared for the weight of this fish, and it dropped down onto the ground.

Even now, as Leo hurried over with a flashlight, I still didn't know what it was. My best guess was still a big bass.. And then Leo shined his light on the fish I'd just caught:

Catfish!!
Note the size of the jitterbug. This was a big fish, at least for me

A catfish!!!????

I was shocked. I thought back to my jitterbug- a topwater lure that floats on the surface. I let it sit, motionless, for at least 20-30 seconds as I stared over at Leo's bobber. I wasn't providing any action to the lure, and that's when the fish struck! Not only that, but everything I knew about catfish is they have a tremendous sense of smell and taste, prefer real bait (dead or alive), and most importantly hang out at the BOTTOM. I knew this pond pretty well- the spot where the cat smashed into my lure was at least 4-5 feet deep, if not more. That meant either the cat was cruising the surface, or was enticed up by my lure. My non-smelly, plastic and metal lure, sitting completely still on the surface. Crazy!

Either way, I'd never heard of anyone catching a catfish on a topwater lure!!

With Leo's help, after a few tense moments we were able to get the treble hooks out of the monster's mouth. We were able to get them out without hurting the fish too much, something I was thankful for considering it was sitting on the ground while we de-hooked it. In my wildest dreams I never thought I would catch a big catfish like this fishing topwater! I had toyed with the idea of doing some catfishing at the pond, but I would have brought some garbage bags or something to set catfish on to remove the hooks.

We stood there admiring the fish. I was incredibly excited, pretty sure I jumped up and down a lot, and a huge amount of celebratory profanity escaped from my mouth.

I didn't have a ruler on me; we positioned Leo's tackle box in such a way that we might be able to figure out the length later... Then I realized I had tape at 24" on my rod. I taped it there a few weeks ago, 24" being the legal limit for northern pike. Perfect!

I held the rod next to the giant catfish, and it turned out to be exactly 24". Awesome!

At this point, I knew what I had to do- I needed to do the classic big catfish pose for the camera! Being mostly a bass fisherman, the way I usually hold fish is by lipping them- I didn't even think about holding the catfish horizontally for the picture- maybe that would have been better for the fish.

At any rate, I reached down, trying to get my fingers inside the gigantic and muscular catfish mouth. Could this be a bad idea? Putting my fingers in its mouth? Ah what the heck. It will make an awesome picture. I finally was able to get my fingers in its mouth, its thick gums like sandpaper, scraping on my thumbs. I lifted it up, and was amazed at its weight- even the biggest bass I'd ever caught I could lift with one hand... I could barely support this guy with two arms!! I had no idea how much it weighed- no scale yet - but it was a lot.

I gave Leo my phone, and he got ready to take a picture... But my headlamp was on, washing out the pictures. I asked him to turn off my headlamp, of course my hands were busy inside the mouth of a huge angry catfish. My headlamp is weird and has a turn knob for the light, and Leo was trying to press the button (which of course does nothing). I was so concerned trying not to drop the fish I couldn't put into words how to turn off my light.

I put down the fish for a minute, turned off the light, and picked it up again. Leo snapped some pictures, we both chuckled, we couldn't wait to show this to our wives!

24" of pond catfish- caught topwater on a jitterbug

Right after the last picture, as if on cue, the fish strongly bit down on my fingers, causing me to drop it into the grass. Its rough mouth ripped into my skin, causing one of my thumbs to start bleeding. I think some more bad words happened around this point.

I had it coming

After hooking the beast with some sharp pointy hooks, dropping it on the ground, and generally greatly inconveniencing this mighty fish, I didn't blame it for biting me. It had every right to bite me, and was surprised it hadn't earlier. In fact, I had it coming to me.

I figured at this point we were even.

Applying pressure to my thumb, the bleeding stopped quickly. It was time to get our friend back into the water. Leo offered to pick up the fish and get it back into the water - I wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to put my smashed fingers back in its mouth. Now that's a real fishing partner. Leo picked up the fish, and carefully returned it to the water. In an instant, with a powerful splash of its muscular tail, it was gone into the dark water.

This fish had been the longest, heaviest fish I'd ever landed.

With Leo's help, we got the hooks out, got some great pictures taken, and returned the fish to the water, seemingly healthy and doing fine. I definitely couldn't have done it alone! I probably wouldn't have left my lure motionless on the surface if it weren't for Leo's bobber. Thanks Leo!

We fished for a while longer, but got no more hits, no more splashes, and no more bass or monster catfish. All in all, a great day fishing; I'm glad Leo talked me into some pond night fishing! As we walked back to my house, I cradled my throbbing thumb, so happy to have a fish-inflicted wound.

I feel like a real fisherman now.