Up in Wisconsin, up in Wisconsin
The weather isn't very nice.
Up in Wisconsin, up in Wisconsin
They gotta fish right through the ice
-- Lou & Peter Berryman
Those words from the song "Up in Wisconsin" (sung to the tune of "La Cucuracha") come to mind when I ponder ice fishing (as in ponder actually doing it). Do you ice fish on your lake? Not many people do here on Birch, at least not this year. From our screen porch I can see only three, maybe four shanties. I am told, though, that the winter walleye fishing is good here. I have not tried it.
Well, I did once, last February, when friend Steve drove up from Manitowoc and we set tipups on a rock bar that's productive in summer, and so also should be in ice season. We caught none, and it was a miserable day, single digits, strong wind driving sharp pellets of snow, one of those days where if not for the fact a friend drove three hours for the express purpose of fishing, you would say, "Not today."
The truth is I have some mental hurdles to clear before I become an ice fisherman, It's not the cold: As a sister of mine says, "There is no cold weather -- only the wrong clothing." And even on that single-digit day with Steve all that got cold were my fingers when I bared them to bait the hooks and rig the tipups.
No, for me, it's the hassle. Summertime, you grab a pole, a lure box and a container of leeches, shove the boat out, motor over to a spot, drop anchor (or not) and fish. In winter there's the shanty (and maybe a heater), the ice drill, the buckets to sit on, the ladle for scooping slush out of the holes, the tipups, the messing with microscopic line with cold hands. And besides that all the layering up with clothes, heavy socks, lined boots. And so thus far, in our second season of being here at the lake often enough to make ice fishing realistic, I have not done it.
I do confess a dinner of fresh-fried walleyes caught from 36-degree water would be superb. And my kid brother did offer to sell me cheap, or loan me free, an assortment of gear. So I must say it's tempting. I am told walleyes can be had just a few yards out from what in summer is the end of my pier, and for that matter from the neighbor's as well. A little shed on shore for equipment so I wouldn't have to lug it up and down the steps each time -- who knows? Maybe it could be somewhat convenient. And I am after all slipping into semi-retirement, so more time is available.
As for now, it's a "maybe next year" thing. If I can talk one of my brothers into coming up and trying it for a weekend, who knows?
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
180.5 acres
It's my first time on snowshoes, not counting a day last March when I tried them out on crusted snow, with miserable results. Today the snow is reasonably fresh powder, about a foot of it on the ground, and the shoeing is just great.
The snowshoes are a gift from my wife, Christmas 2011. Here in February 2013, we finally have enough snow to make it worth trying them on. I'm not used to this form of exercise, so it's tiring, but I take my time and stop often for breaks. That includes chatting with a Birch Lake neighbor up from Wausau, an hour from here, visiting for the day to do some remodeling on his cabin down the hill from us.
With permission I cut through his lot down to the lake (our frontage is steep and I don't want to negotiate the 40 or so stairs with these boards on my feet). Where earlier this winter I used to walk the dog, there's now enough snow that it would be a struggle just in boots. Instead, I trudge along ("float over the snow" is not really the right description), leaving big, ovoid tracks, in the process making what seems like the first acquaintance with certain muscles.
Have you ever snowshoed or just walked on your lake in winter? It's like having (if temporarily) a lot more real estate than you actually own -- in our case 180 acres plus the 0.5 on which we pay taxes. Out on the lake snow is a wondrous place to be on a 20-degree, cloudy-bright February Saturday. Recent snowfalls have edge-frosted everything -- pines, oak, cabins -- in a way that reminds me of gingerbread houses.
When I stop crunching over the snow, it's completely quiet, except for the now-and-then putt- putt-putt-putt-roar-putt-putt of an ice auger from near a shanty just out from the point across the lake. There isn't enough wind to make a sound in the trees. In general it is silent enough, if you stop long and listen, almost to give the sensation of falling.
Part of me, on this back slope of winter, can't wait to see warmer days melt off this coat of snow, so I can, for the first time, watch the process of ice going out on a lake. After that we'll still have our extra 180 acres; we'll just have to enjoy them from a boat or canoe, or immersed, with our without flippers, mask and snorkel.
Another part of me has grown to love this white season up north and will have to confess to sadness at seeing it go. In the meantime, I have the snowshoes.
The snowshoes are a gift from my wife, Christmas 2011. Here in February 2013, we finally have enough snow to make it worth trying them on. I'm not used to this form of exercise, so it's tiring, but I take my time and stop often for breaks. That includes chatting with a Birch Lake neighbor up from Wausau, an hour from here, visiting for the day to do some remodeling on his cabin down the hill from us.
With permission I cut through his lot down to the lake (our frontage is steep and I don't want to negotiate the 40 or so stairs with these boards on my feet). Where earlier this winter I used to walk the dog, there's now enough snow that it would be a struggle just in boots. Instead, I trudge along ("float over the snow" is not really the right description), leaving big, ovoid tracks, in the process making what seems like the first acquaintance with certain muscles.
Have you ever snowshoed or just walked on your lake in winter? It's like having (if temporarily) a lot more real estate than you actually own -- in our case 180 acres plus the 0.5 on which we pay taxes. Out on the lake snow is a wondrous place to be on a 20-degree, cloudy-bright February Saturday. Recent snowfalls have edge-frosted everything -- pines, oak, cabins -- in a way that reminds me of gingerbread houses.
When I stop crunching over the snow, it's completely quiet, except for the now-and-then putt- putt-putt-putt-roar-putt-putt of an ice auger from near a shanty just out from the point across the lake. There isn't enough wind to make a sound in the trees. In general it is silent enough, if you stop long and listen, almost to give the sensation of falling.
Part of me, on this back slope of winter, can't wait to see warmer days melt off this coat of snow, so I can, for the first time, watch the process of ice going out on a lake. After that we'll still have our extra 180 acres; we'll just have to enjoy them from a boat or canoe, or immersed, with our without flippers, mask and snorkel.
Another part of me has grown to love this white season up north and will have to confess to sadness at seeing it go. In the meantime, I have the snowshoes.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
If we build it, will they come?
The Friends of Birch Lake (where we have our cabin) plan to build fish cribs later this month. Already a couple dozen lie sunken on the lakebed, though I confess I know the locations of only three or four. They're tough to find with the low-quality sonar unit on my fishing boat (the lake friends group does have a map, but sometimes even that isn't a great deal of help).
Anyway, the theory is that you build these frames of large logs, spiked together and festooned with brush. You weigh them down with concrete blocks, set them on the ice in the chosen spots, and wait for spring. Then, in theory, once in place they attract fish. So in a lake like ours, largely stripped of weeds by rusty crayfish and with limited bottom structure except for a rocky, humpy area on the northeast side, these cribs become good places to find walleyes and smallmouth bass.
That much in my experience is true -- I have caught fish around the Birch Lake cribs (though I've had more success observing those fish while snorkeling than I've had catching them). What's less certain is that cribs help produce rather than simply attract fish -- big difference. The idea is that the cribs provide cover -- places to hide -- for fish fry, so that more avoid getting eaten and grow to adulthood, and thus the populations of perch, bass, walleyes and bluegills get bigger. What's more likely is that the cribs just concentrate fish -- the number in the lake stays about the same, but they are more focused on the cribs (less scattered) thus easier to find.
Either way, I'm all for adding cribs to the lake. I wish I could help build them, but it looks like I will have to be out of town on business the the day appointed. I hope my fellow Birch Lake Friends members will be generous about sharing the locations -- or that I get to see the cribs on the ice before it melts.
Do you have cribs on your lake? What is your experience with them? Have they improved the fishng? How and to what degree?
Anyway, the theory is that you build these frames of large logs, spiked together and festooned with brush. You weigh them down with concrete blocks, set them on the ice in the chosen spots, and wait for spring. Then, in theory, once in place they attract fish. So in a lake like ours, largely stripped of weeds by rusty crayfish and with limited bottom structure except for a rocky, humpy area on the northeast side, these cribs become good places to find walleyes and smallmouth bass.
That much in my experience is true -- I have caught fish around the Birch Lake cribs (though I've had more success observing those fish while snorkeling than I've had catching them). What's less certain is that cribs help produce rather than simply attract fish -- big difference. The idea is that the cribs provide cover -- places to hide -- for fish fry, so that more avoid getting eaten and grow to adulthood, and thus the populations of perch, bass, walleyes and bluegills get bigger. What's more likely is that the cribs just concentrate fish -- the number in the lake stays about the same, but they are more focused on the cribs (less scattered) thus easier to find.
Either way, I'm all for adding cribs to the lake. I wish I could help build them, but it looks like I will have to be out of town on business the the day appointed. I hope my fellow Birch Lake Friends members will be generous about sharing the locations -- or that I get to see the cribs on the ice before it melts.
Do you have cribs on your lake? What is your experience with them? Have they improved the fishng? How and to what degree?
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