Friday Dec 18 ~ Monday Dec 21 Pool 9

The weather conditions on Friday afternoon were near perfect. Overcast skies, mercury riding above the 25 degree mark, and the motionless bony canopy of the willow tree limbs bordering the driveway, which are always a welcome site heading to the water. The river & finned inhabitants sure were quick to serve up a piece of humble pie! After a mere 5 days of writing up a report denouncing an entire season of catching gills slightly larger than a guppy on Pool 9 ~ what is the first fish I pull through the hole? A 9 inch blue gill.

Finding the gills was pure accident. I was actually in search mode for some seven ring perch on a tavern tip earlier in the week. A person lends an ear when tavern talk fish stories fire up over a cup of coffee between two wily ole semi retired river rats. Yet knowing all two well the same stories have been shared over countless cups of coffee for as many years as the stories are old. And every time told the number of rings on a perch increase as the total number of fish iced swells. By the 8th version of the story a 6′ wing span isn’t enough to visualize the size of the fish. And have you every noticed? Back in the days of our grandfathers the total number of fish caught always landed perfectly on an interval of 5 for unknown reasons. Well, usually somewhere between the lines of who got the best of who the truth falls. I spent the early afternoon hours sorting 14 to 16 inch LMB with the gills. I did find a couple perch, one male made it in the take home bucket with six rings but the seven ringers rumored to be in the vicinity never materialized for me. I kept enough gills to compliment my perch sandwich and gave the others a renewal on life.

When the big girl hit my gold Lil Cecil in the waning hours of day light I was not immediately taken back by the display of power the fish rendered. Natural reaction for my right hand on such a tug is to adjust the drag as my left balances the pole letting the fish have as much line as it wants. I thank the time I’ve spent doing battle with all those LMB in Pool 9 over the past couple of ice seasons for fine tuning that skill set! Afterall, this wasn’t the first LMB with freakish dimensions I’ve done battle with through the ice. But after a second & third tug equaling or exceeding the power of the first ~ I bounced off the bucket on to the ice plucking the transducer from the hole. I knew I had something big on and I had gut feeling it wasn’t an LMB. Thoughts of an
early 09′
gator fight through the ice crept into my mind as I let the fish control the action. The 2lb. Vanish sounded like a guitar string twaning against the ice around the circumference of the hole. My second priority to drag adjustment was to keep the line in the center of the hole as much as possible & OFF the jagged edges of the ice! For the next 10 minutes I slowly but surely worked the fish towards the surface. With only 6″ of ice & a tuckered out fish it wasn’t too difficult to get her started up in the hole. When I peeked over the edge for my first glimps only to witness a mouth full of teeth with one of the three treble hooks buried deep in the top lip my heart skipped a beat making the final touches of a successful landing all that more difficult! With my right hand now guiding the pole I hoisted the tip in the air while slipping my left fingers into the back of the gill plate hoisting her on to the ice!
What makes a fish like this walleye or the pike of 09 extra special to me is the way they were caught. On accident! I was not actively pursuing game fish or walleye. Just working my Lil Cecil for another bull size gill or perhaps a dusk crappie out on the prowl.

Met up a with fellow Pool 9 bucketeer on a favorite stretch of river notorious for producing slab size crappie. Our river hosts were quite rude this morning but armed with an array of Cecils we were able to pry some mouths open. One of the slabs even figured out how to pry Ted’s mouth open! I did have a rather steady wave of activity on the flasher which is a sure fire sign the fish are roaming and the clock is ticking. Fishing is all about timing. Right place at the right time with the right bait. Today was a prime example of the river & her finned friends letting us know who the real Bos is!