Northern Pike
1/11/11
40.5 inches
Ice fishing is not just a hobby, it is a passion.
When you hear the stories about the ones that got away, some have thier doubts "understandably because you hear so many"
It only takes one landed to start validating all the "exagurated" stories.
So today I am going to share a story about one that did not get away.
I arived at my fishing spot shortly after 10 am,
It was like most any other ice fishing day, things were slow at best with little sighn of the bite improving any time soon
I sat jigging for gills for it must have been hours, an impending snow storm was just starting to set in. I turned the weather band on the radio checking to see if there were any updates that I should be aware of, the only change was the forcasted amount, from 4 inches of snow to 5 inches of snow.
satified there was nothing alarming that would require my attention weather wise I changed back to my regular clasic rock station.
a couple more hours passed and still I had yet to land a single gill. It was about then when another angler came up on me, even tho I could have sat there the rest of the day by my self I would have been content. but I have to admit, I was ready for a little company.
as it turned out my guest didnt have a hole drilling device, I was happy to get up off my duff and cut him a new hole, and while I was at it I drilled me a new one too.
Together as we spread the manure on pretty thick for at least another hours befor we got our first bite. and then it happend we got a small turn on. I was catching a few medium gills, not quite big enough for dinner yet to big to put on my tipup. For ya see, I was fresh out of shiners and tomarow would be the earliest I would be seeing any more.
My hopes was to get a gill large enough but not quite so large that it would keep setting off my tip-up.
about the time the gills started hitting, my nephew found his way out on the ice.
You might have thougt the manure awas going on a little thick but by the time he cut himself a hole right where I pointed we were having a grand o'l time. The bigger gills started hitting pretty good, and finaly I was starting to see gills getting close to the class I wanted to use on my tip-up. I caught and released a half dozen not getting one the size I wanted I looked at it and said to my comrads on the ice, any bait is better than no bait at all.
I cut me a new hole about 20 feet away so as not to interupt our gill fishing. Then I hooked the gill just behing the dorcel fin and placed him in the water. With my tip up in hand and reaching down to set it in place, the flag goes off, and I thought to my slef I will have to just reset the flag and make due untill I can catch a smaller one.
I turned around to get my gaft from the back of my quad and on the radio I could hear the song playing, "now your messing with a SOB" Glancing back I saw the flag was up again, I forgot about the gaft and figured that I was going to just have to take the gill off and get me a smaller one.
I picked up the tip up, and started pulling in the line, then I felt something, and I thought to my self, "Oh no, he got in to the weeds" so I gave a good yank to break him free and then the spool when screaming and the line wizzed right on down the hole.
With my gloves on, I grabed the line and allowed him to run and I started to pull him in just as soon as he was finished, I managed to get in a good 20 feet of line before he made his second run, and I could not hold the line and thats when I screamed its a big one.
My nephew with some what disbelief looked on as I managed to get a grip again and pulled in a good 30 feet of line before the next run, Harder, faster than the prevoius runs, I said to my nephew grab my gaft.
He went running after the gaft, and I managed to get another grip on the line, this time pulling in a good hundred feet. My nephews buddy sall the line pilling up under my feet he picked it up and pulled it back so it would not knot up on me if the fish took off again, and sure enough it did, two more times before we ever got out first glimps, then it was a cople more short runs before he got tired out and we got him near the hole as we played tug a war. finaly we see his head and my nephew hands me the gaft and I was able to catch him in the mouth when he opened his mouth, and pulling him up though a hole that he just barly fit.
The unsual part of this story is, that this was about the time when I normaly ended up with blood gushing all over the snow from pike gashes in my fingers...
needless to say, we lost some valuable gill fishing time, and bouy was I happy to have a couple ice fishing buddies with me this day cuz I would have never got him out on my own with out thier valued assistance.
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[left]First Pike of the year.
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