Predator Quest...

I've been bitten yet again.  No, I didn't litterally get bitten by a fox or coyote, but the passion to pursue them has recently consumed me.  Here's a brief background history for those that don't know me.  Most of my family grew up in the farm country of western Minnesota.  My father and uncles use to hunt and trap fox and other predators during the fall and winter months.  They would skin and sell the pelts for what use to be a pretty large chunk of change.  While this isn't as big of a sport as it once was, it still has its place in Minnesota outdoors. 

I was lucky enough to have a couple of uncles, Loge and Ray (Bod), that would include me on their journeys.  During the winter months we would travel the back country roads in search of fox laying in the open fields.  Once we spotted one we would have to figure out how to get close enough for a shot.  If you know anything at all about these animals, then you realize that they are likely the smartest critters on the planet.  It is extremely difficult to get within range of one, and doing so doesn't always ensure that you will be able to make the shot.  The cold, wind and extreme snow depths can play a huge part in making it all happen when your target is as small as a fox.  I consider it one of the ultimate tests of a hunter.  For years I was blessed to learn from a couple of the best predator hunters around.  I experienced hunts that I will never forget, which is probably why this passion is now coming back to center stage for me.

Looking at 2010, the game is a little different.  Coyote have taken over many of the areas that we use to find our fox.  I have been hard at the game during the past few weeks by way of calling, and I will be honest, I have struggled.  The coyotes are everywhere, but they have shown me why they are the smartest critters out there.  If I zig, they zag, and vise versa.  It has been a game of cat and mouse that they have been winning.  This was the reason I made a call last Saturday to my mentor Loge, and graciously he accepted the invitation to hit the backroads yet again.

Our morning started out fast and furious.  About 1 mile from the farm, and 1 minute down the road, a coyote blasted past us through a ditch.  The early morning darkness allowed us the opportunity to hopefully watch the animal bed down for the day, and as we picked a location to view the section to watch the coyote, we were surprised to find a beautiful red fox out mousing around in the same field.  After a few moments we made the decision to give up on the 'yote and watch the fox.  This is where the hunter became the loser in the deal.  After about 20 minutes the fox worked its way to an area that we could set up to call.  Instead of waiting for him to lay down, we decided to take matters into our own hands and hit the calls.  Joining Loge and I for the day was my good buddy Matt.  He and I set out in our full white camoflouge and began a calling sequence.  After a few moments it was obvious that we had been outsmarted.  Tracks in the fox's location reveiled that somehow during a 3 minute window of us not watching the brilliant critter hit the ditch and left the section.  We were calling at nothing and that's just what came to our call.  Ouch!

Still holding high hopes because of my lucky charm, Loge, we cruised the country roads looking for the next available opportunity.  About 4 hours went by with nothing, then we hit a gold mine.  A coyote was working its way through a field, and we had the perfect plan to cut it off.  Lucky for us, Matt and I were perfectly set in place to make it happen.  Here is where the story gets even better.  Matt had the first chance, but missed the coyote 3 times.  As I waited on a fenceline for the coyote to come my way, I was absolutely blown away when from the opposite direction a red fox was working the same fenceline right at me.  For a split second I didn't know what to do, but I quickly decided that I'd rather have a red than the yote.  With only 4 shells in my gun I waited as the fox drew closer, 300 yards, 200 yards, 150 yards.  My heart was pounding threw my chest for this opportunity that I so seldomly have.  The hard part was that as it got closer it started coming faster, then at about 100 yards it instinctively took a turn and was now running broadside.  I was beyond flustered, I tried to stop the fox, but he just kept picking up steam.  At that point the perfect standing shot I was waiting for was now running by at 30 mph.  I opened up and let 4 shots miss completely.  It was at that moment that I turned over my shoulder and watched a coyote stand and look at me and my empty gun.  To make it worse, he was standing broadside at less than 100 yards.  Ouch again!

For some of you, this story will never make sense and you will think that I am weird for even writing about this.  For others, you will be able to relate and understand exactly what was happening during these moments.  As I watched my opportunities run away I vowed to make the next opportunity a success no matter what!  I had a feeling of total defeit.  As we drove over the hill to see if we could spot either of the critters we were blown away by what we had discovered.  While the coyote somehow managed to slip into thin air, there were three more fox out in the section.  Two of them were bedded down and one of them was out mousing around in the sun.  Jackpot!

As we were observing the situation a neighbor approached us and explained that they had just watched another fox bed down about a 2 miles down the road.  Jackpot again!  Now the only problem was on our end and finding a way not to mess everything up.  I was given the first opportunity and decided to try to sneak up on the fox out mousing around.  They are tough to sneak up on when they are sleeping, and even tougher when they are awake.  Luckily, I had a perfect sneak route through a drainage ditch.  As I quietly snuck through the 10 foot snow drifts I would pop up to make sure the fox was still in his spot.  Out of breathe, I managed to get within 130 yards.  Again my heart was pounding with adrenaline and hopes that I wouldn't mess it up.  As I squeezed the trigger my heart sank.  The perfect broadside shot again missed its mark and the fox ran out of sight over the hill.  I reloaded and hoped for one more chance if the fox would stop in an open area.  As luck would have it, I was ready and the fox gave me one more chance at about 350 yards.  Bang!  This time I somehow managed to make the shot.  It was like I had just shot a 200 class whitetail or landed a state record muskie.  It finally all came together!  Drenched with sweat and adrenaline I finally drug myself and my prize back to the truck and received high fives and laughter from the boys that watched it all go down.  Bittersweet!

Next it was Matt's turn.  This time I was the lucky one to get to watch.  I managed to get a photo of his sleeping target, but that's all we will ever have from that hunt.  Matt's dead eye marksmanship proved not enough as he was reminded how difficult these things are to hit.  Defeited, he came back to the farmyard that we were waiting in with three empty shells and no fox.  It was a good effort, but that fox will again be left to hunt another day. 

With two sweaty and exhausted hunters in the truck, it was now the master hunter Loge's turn to try his luck.  Unfortunately, this hunt never came to be.  As he donned the white's and prepared to step into the field, two snow machines drove through the field and we watched the fox make a B-line for another country.  "Oh well, that fox is lucky," was all he said, as we called it a day and headed back to the farm. 

The sun had set and our predator quest was over, but it was more exciting than I ever remembered.  It was a day of excitement that I'm sure the three of us won't soon forget.  It was a roadtrip back down memory lane for me, and as I sit at this computer I can still picture the intense moments that I had in the middle of those snow covered fields.  The only thing I can say to close this journal entry is this, you just have to try it for yourself.  Until next time, keep on livin' the dream!

A Walleye For Walt...

This morning I walked through the office building door that I call my work, kicked the fresh snow off my shoes and stepped into Mitch's room.  He was still smiling from the night before and staring at pictures of a certain fish.  Mitch is my boss, and the smiles were from our ice fishing outing the evening before.  Joining us on the outing was Walt Larsen.  He's the guy in the picture holding the fish. 

As I said good morning to Mitch, the first thing out of his mouth was, "you know, I was having a great time even without catching a big fish. Walt and I both agreed after we left the fish house that it was a perfect night, but that we are glad we didn't have to make an excuse about why we didn't catch a fish."  Whew, that was a relief.  But in all honesty it was a perfect night.  Our goal was not about catching numbers, but to ice a big fat walleye that struggles to slip through the ice hole.  It was the topic of our entire conversation leading up to the excursion.  It was the topic of several emails on who would land the biggest one, and it was even the entire topic of conversation while in the fish house.  We weren't going for a meal, rather one to brag about in a photo session.  That banter is what inspired me to move the "Shangri-la" to one of our favorite "big fish" spots for last nights activities.  As I scrolled through the photo albums on my laptop showing the boys the certain monstrous fish caught off of this exact same spot, I could sense they were starting to get tired of looking at the ones previously caught and wanted a 'Tonka fatty of their own. 

This is where the story gets good.  After about a half hour wait the sun set and the pesky perch fled the scene.  The electronic screens were blank except for Walt and Mitch's bouncing jigs.  It was very obvious that the next fish on the screen would be a walleye.  Mitch was new to this whole walleye jigging scene and received some schooling on the do's and dont's, but Walt was a seasoned pro.  This became evident as our perfect evening was about to culminate.  Little did we know that the first walleye Mitch was to see come through an ice hole was going to be a dandy on Walt's line.  After an intense battle and a struggle at the ice, we all were reminded of why I use a 10 inch hole instead of an 8.  Moments seemed like hours as we struggled to get Walt's big fish headed up in the right direction - my hands.  Screams could be heard across the lake as all the banter, chatter and big talking became reality.  It was a gem of a fish.  A beautiful walleye that would make anyone proud.  A few shots and the walleye was back in the water for the next eager angler.   It simply doesn't get any better than that, and with that excitement, we were satisfied and called it a night.  If only it was that easy every time... Until the next fish strikes, keep on livin' the dream!

Happy Holidays...Walleyes...Muskies...and More!

First off, Happy Holidays to you and yours!  Secondly I am sorry for the longest drought in my journal since the creation of this site.  I want to thank all of you for your patience and for continuing to watch for something new to pop up. 

I should probably recap all of the events since I last updated.  The muskie quest was one heck of an exciting, frustrating and rewarding time all wrapped into one.  I have never spent so much effort for one big fish, but the results weren't exactly what I was hoping for.  During the month of November I got my butt kicked more than once.  I was persistent and patient, but that didn't prove to land the next state record.  I have never seen so many November monsters as I did this season, but the 9 potential record breakers we had boatside during the several days on the water decided that this season wasn't for me.  Unfortunately, most of the other 70 plus fish that we had boatside also felt the same way.  I had so many great guests join the excursion as well and for that I want to say thanks.  You all know who you are, and your presence made it one of the most enjoyable stretches I have had on the water yet.  Watch for a new show on television in the near future as "the hook" takes shape.  I am now looking forward to 2010 to do it all over again!

With the Holiday season, comes first ice.  I typically update after every trip on the water, but my schedule has obviously kept me from doing so.  While I haven't been updating, I have still been pounding through the ice every chance I get.  The results?  Pretty good.  The ice has been as good, or better than I can ever remember.  Thus far I have fished a few different lakes for walleyes and a few for panfish.  Some days have been better than others, but limits of walleyes have been had and some very ncie picture takers to boot.  We haven't landed any 10 pounders yet, but I expect that to change very soon.  What else would a guy expect from the early ice season?

The next few days and weeks should be spectacular as this season is starting out with a bang.  If you haven't hit the water yet, I strongly encourage you to do so.  This is not a secret, but the ice is in great shape, and the fish are biting!  I have caught up on several of my current responsibilities and I now will do my best to keep you informed of every outing I go on.  I hope you stay tuned.  From the frozen tundra of the north, keep on livin' the dream!

Check out the photo galleries to see more early ice photos!

The Quest, Part 3

No new pics of obese muskies to report.  Not for lack of effort, but it has been one of the most exciting and discouraging times for my boat in recent memory.  The first three days of last week, Mon - Wed, I was joined by two incredibly persistent and skilled muskie anglers.  Mike and his Buddy Dylan flew all the way from New York and Colorado respectively, to land what they hoped to be a state record Minnesota muskie.  Our phone conversations before the trip made it clear for all of us what we were up against, but nothing could prepare us for what we actually experienced.  I was expecting cold, windy and brutal conditions, typical for Mille Lacs in mid-November.  What we received was beautiful, flat calm and sunny weather for three straight days.  This did not pose well for the fishing.  Ughh...

Our first day was a bit of an encouragement, but unfortunately a prelude to the next two.  Mike and I started out the trip by fishing day one together.  Dylan was to fly in later that day, but Mike was not about to let one day pass without flopping the giant lures in the water.  Muskie sighting number one was an absolute monster.  A fish that no doubt would have challenged the record of 54 pounds.  It was encouraging to see that fish right out of the gate, but only a start to what we would experience.  Shortly after, another fish came boatside, followed by yet another record breaker.  That fish definitely gave Mike a clear understanding of the absolute monstrosity that swims in that water.  "It was the biggest fish I have ever seen," was all that Mike could muster.  A true giant that pretty much left him speechless.  By the end of that day, we had brought 9 different muskies to the boat.  A number that blew my mind.  Typically I see two or three fish in a full day, and get one or two to eat.  This was not the case, and while it was encouraging to see so many huge fish that day, it was very discouraging for us to have zero strikes.

Day two Dylan hopped in the boat with us.  After such an intense first day, we were jacked up to have an opportunity at some of the monsters we located.  The only problem was that conditions stayed exactly the same.  No wind, no clouds and crystal clear lake Mille Lacs waters.  The results were also the same.  This time we only raised 4 fish, which I still consider above average, but no takers.  We discussed alternative plans and alternative waters, but these two boys were persistent, and they decided to "go big, or go home."

Wednesday was our third and final day together.  We had high hopes yet again with so many fish located the previous two days.  After all, we knew that one strike would change the outcome of the entire trip.  We pounded away in another warm, calm and sunny day.  Once again we brought some dandy fish to the boat.  Again, we located some new fish, but it was obvious that they weren't having anything we were offering.  Our day ended and the trip was over before we even realized what happened.  In total we had 18 different muskies come boatside during that three day run.  The weather remained a carbon copy of the day before, and the water temps didn't fluctuate a single degree.  If you would have told me that we would see 18 muskies on that lake in mid November, I would have said we would have landed at least 5.  That would have been more typical of what I am use to, but these fish had serious lock-jaw.  Regardless, we shared many laughs, and I now have a newfound respect for cancer research.  Also, Dylan, I sure hope your wife doesn't find out you were on a fishing trip instead of a work trip... Thanks guys, I hope the next outing rewards you for your hard work and efforts!

Friday I was back on the pond.  My two eager guests were again Todd and Theo.  These guys can't get enough of the Mille Lacs abuse and were as jazzed as I was to get back on the water.  We were also joined that day by Brian Peterson, the outdoor editor for the Brainerd Dispatch.  He has written several stories on the potential swimming in that lake, and wanted to come out to witness it all first hand.  As we approached the waters, we realized that it was going to be quite an interesting day.  Fog had set in, and it was as thick as I have ever seen.  What made it even funnier for me was that I was the only person that had the slightest clue where we were on the lake.  Visibility was about 50 yards, and I could have told them anything and they would have believed it.  "Cast here, now over here, and over there," were my commands for the day, and with the lake flatter than a mirror, it was hard to keep your mind and sanity straight.  You couldn't tell if you were looking up or down, left or right.  It was slightly spooky.

The fish were once again eager to follow, and showed slightly more spunk than the previous few outings.  Theo and I had some dandies screaming boatside to no avail.  Shortly after we picked Brian up from the dock, we had a record class fish dancing under Todd's feet.  Brian was next with a nice one of his own, but again we were left with stories of what could have been.  At about 3:30 that afternoon, the fog finally lifted and we were able to watch the sun set.  Moments after the sun had faded we had our most promising opportunity below our feet.  A giant of a fall fatty followed Todd's lure boatside and turned.  A quick cast back brought the fish screaming back in at a pace that made me whisper to Todd, "He's yours."  That's all I said, because I figured it was a done deal.  I have never seen such a hot fish flying around the boat that didn't gulp it's prize.  But, as the week had gone all along, this fish again swam away hungry.  It was dissapointing, depressing and heartbreaking, but I guess leaves me excited for the next adventure.  Our day ended with another astonishing 9 fish to the boat with zero hookups.  I'm beginning to wonder if these beasts are going to start shrinking in size due to their lack of eating. 

Over the last four days on the water we have had 27 different muskies boatside.  5 of which could have contended as a new state record.  Not a single one of these fish has eaten.  The weather and water temps haven't changed a bit.  Something has to give.  I'm hoping that this happens over the next two days.  We are going to be filming a pilot for a new extreme fishing show tomorrow and Wednesday, and nothing would make me happier than to see any one of these giant fish come in the boat.  I guess we will see how it all plays out.  I hope you stick around to find out.  Until that monster strikes, keep on livin' the dream!

The Quest, Part 2

If you stepped outside yesterday, you probably weren't thinking it would be a good day to be on the lake.  Of all lakes, Mille Lacs was our choice.  The weather man called for some wind, but what we encountered was more than what we bargained for.  Bret and his fishing buddy Jordan hopped in the boat on the record quest.  These boys were from Wisconsin, and while they love muskie fishing, they quickly admitted that they had never experienced anything like this back home.  The waves were simply ridiculous.  There's no other way to say it.  When Mother Mille Lacs rears her ugly head, she can be down right brutal.  The only plus side was that the temps jumped up to around 50 by mid day. 

Our morning was rather uneventful - fish wise, but the waves and wind kept us on our toes.  In fact, we were jumping around, spot to spot, doing our thing all morning, and didn't even realize that we forgot to eat lunch.  It was 2:30 before we even checked the time, and couldn't believe how fast the day had passed us by.  I guess when you are fishing with great guys the time just flies by.

I didn't have much to report on this day other than the conditions were favorable and we weren't seeing any muskies.  It was somewhat frustrating to watch these two guys hammer away all day to see only Tullibee follow their lures to the boat.  In fact, the Tullibees were everywhere and made for an added challenge.  Why in the heck would a muskie eat our meager offering when she had several thousand tasty meals swimming around her all day long.  It was humbling on my part to get the results we were experiencing, but we knew that it could all change with one cast.  Later in the afternoon the wind got the best of me.  I had a slight chill and decided to warm up by tossing the abnormally large baits.  I didn't want to catch a fish, but rather would accept the results of my casting.  After all, my goal was for one of the boys to get bit.  Not me.  For some reason the fish decided they liked my offering, even though it was exactly the same as Bret's.  I had a follow shortly before dark.  At that point it was our only muskie sighting of the day.  As darkness fell, we continued to pound the waters to a froth.  Just when we thought it wasn't going to happen, I received a throttling, and as I set the hook, the abnormally fat muskie went airborne.  "I got him," was all I could muster as I tried to tame the beast.  Seconds later we struggled to net the fish as it got caught up on the outside of the netting.  It was actually kind of comical to watch, but luckily we got her in.  She wasn't a state record, but dang are they fat right now.  I guess that's a reminder as to why we put ourselves through such misery on the water.  It's all for the love of fall fatties!  The quest will continue tomorrow, so until that state record strikes, keep on livin' the dream!