February Marble-Eyes

 

    Over the course of this winter, I've gotten kind of ate up with walleye fishing. I still think they fight like a wet sock, and I'll stand by that statement. But after catching some decent ones from the river, feeling how they thump a jig or jerkbait like a ton of bricks, I'll admit I've put in a lot of hours, pushing through frozen fingers and guides, looking for the next hit. 

    January was a very slow month. A month comprised of an endless cycle of freezes and thaws, each of which I'd thought would be the last. Finally, in early February, a warm front successfully pushed through, bringing the water temp back up to 40 degrees. February is generally considered the start to good pre-spawn river walleye fishing. The big egg-laden females and the skinner males all start pushing shallow and feeding like my track friends when it's time to bulk. Now's the time the fish will be the heaviest and most in the mood to kill stuff. 

    On Wednesday afternoon, I stopped by one of my favorite low water spots on the river while running some errands. With less than an hour to fish, I started casting a swimbait. Fishing it on a straight retrieve, barely gliding it over the rocks, I got slammed, landing a pissed off 17 inch male. I had to leave pretty soon afterwards, but I began putting together a plan for next time. 

    So it was at that same spot I found myself a few days later. The river was still low and clear, but this was a spot you could only access in low water, a spot with one of those mysterious deep dark holes that often spawn thoughts in the angler such as what the heck is down there. First one to knock at the door was a black and silver x-rap. With walleyes, I like to change up retrieves until I find something they like. I covered this hole with a straight retrieve, no cigar. I made another cast, this time offering them the classic twitch, twitch, pause. It was on the pause when I got slammed. I set the hook, and my light spinning rod instantly bows over. I get two or three headshakes and then it rolls over as dead weight. A green shape flashes into view and rolls a second time before I'm able to drag this fish onto the bank. A new personal best, shattered by a pre-spawn hen absolutely loaded with eggs.

    While I still prefer snakehead, or tautog, or seabass, walleye make fantastic table fare. Still, I didn't want to harvest a fish of that size caliber, one I knew would be soon laying eggs for the next generation of the river. I popped the hook out and set her back. She kicked off strong.

    With the sun slowly going down the mountains, I continued pushing upstream. Tying on my trusted paddletail swimbait and making a long cast with a steady retrieve, I get another thump. I'm tied into another decent sized fish. I landed this one, a healthy 19 incher, and decided to harvest it. 

    Shortly after that fish, I packed it up and left. I'm not entirely convinced that the woods around that section of the river aren't haunted, for reasons I'll discuss someday. Either way, it was a hell of a kick off for the pre-spawn -> spawn walleye bite that will hopefully last me until the river hits 50 degrees and the shad start running again. 

Cheers, fishy people.