HE'S GOT IT BAD

Summertime squirrel hunting success is often about as sure of a thing as you can find.  There's little pressure, lots of opportunity and squirrels are plentiful and available when the season opens June 1.  More often than not an experienced hunter can shoot a 5-rat limit in about 90 minutes or less if all goes according to plan.  And it does MOST of the time.  But on occasion things don't work out as evidenced by a hunt last weekend.

I was in Topeka visiting family and told my 16-year-old nephew, Dylan, we'd run out to the public hunting surrounding Perry Reservoir and try our luck chasing tree rats.  He's game for anything and has really got hooked on hunting and fishing in the last few years.  He took up trapping, too, and loves all time spent outdoors.

When my alarm went off at 5 a.m. and I opened the bedroom door Dylan was already sitting up waiting for me in the living room.  This bright-eyed approach was impressive, particularly considering he didn't get to bed until almost midnight the night prior after a doubleheader baseball game.  He was chompin' at the bit.

It didn't take us long to gather our gear and load up.  We commented on the stickiness of the air and the fact that it was already 77 degrees an hour before sunrise.  It would indeed be a muggy morning.  And it was going to get worse.

I had several maps of the public hunting areas surrounding Perry Reservoir.  I had penciled in some likely-looking spots after checking them on Google and we made our first stop.  The wind wasn't too bad when we hopped into the first stand of timber but my mood would quickly sour.

The undergrowth was intense, woolly and nearly impenetrable in some instances.  Plentiful spring rains had the vegetation lush making movement difficult at best.  After several failed calling attempts we decided to move on to another spot. 

We called and called using our squirrel distress and bark calls and didn't have much success.  We had a couple respond from way off, but nothing real close.  Finally, one fox squirrel came to investigate and after Dylan got one shot off to clear the way he connected on the second one. 

But that lone rat would be it for the morning.  We actually saw more turkeys than squirrels and we only saw 4 turkeys.  I was disappointed for Dylan.  I had gotten his hopes up and wasn't able to produce.  The timber we hunted looked like it should have squirrels every 15 yards but it just wasn't to be for whatever reason. I was perplexed and bummed as the morning wore on.   

Despite liberal dousing with bug repellent we were both chewed up with mosquito bites and ticks were crawling on us like crazy.  And it was HOT!  By mid-morning we punted and headed for cooler climates.

It was likely one of the most miserable mornings I've had in the great outdoors in recent history.  There were many other places I would have chosen to be after enduring everything else that morning. 

But Dylan was a trooper and never once complained.  He was glad to be out wandering the woods and seemed to enjoy it despite the brutal conditions and our lack of success. 

And when I jokingly asked later that day if he wanted to go again in the morning he said, "Sure!"  The kid's got it bad and that's a good thing. 

   

MY BIGGEST WALLEYE EVER!

MY BIGGEST WALLEYE EVER...NOT!

Fish are funny and fickle.  But fortunately, they're also predictable.  Success is usually determined by figuring out what works and duplicating it over and over.  This repetition also leads to guesses of species and size, oftentimes long before the fish is ever seen, and sometimes delusions of grandeur.  The biggest are always the ones that get away before positive identification can be made.

Over the years I've become adept, like many anglers, at determining what species of fish just inhaled my jig-and-nightcrawler combination I use while walleye fishing.  Drum, white bass, wipers, channel catfish and walleye have distinctive ways they bite, and subsequently fight, giving away their species long before they get to the boat.

But this "sense" isn't an exact science.  Although it works MOST of the time, I'm occasionally wrong.  But rarely does a guess of giant drum or channel catfish turn into a monstrous walleye.  The opposite can happen and often does, particularly with channel catfish and even more so with flathead catfish.  Take for example one evening last week.

A buddy and I were catching plenty of walleye and the occasional fish big enough to make any angler "oohhh" and "aahhh" when it surfaced.  We were also catching lots of "others" so our predictions were never few and far between.  Most times they were spot on.

However, on one good tell-tale walleye "whack," I dropped my rod and gave the fish a moment to inhale the jig-and-nightcrawler.  On the hook-set the fish didn't budge much.

"This is a big 'eye," I told my buddy.  "Get the net!"

The slow, lethargic, side-to-side head shakes told me this was a BIG walleye.  And while I've caught quite a few walleye over 7 pounds, I've never cracked the 8-pound mark.  The fact this fish wasn't coming in quickly told me I might have a legitimate shot at a personal best, maybe even substantially larger.

I fought the fish for a couple minutes just knowing it was at least an 8 or 9 pound walleye.  All indications during the fight gave me no reason to doubt it.  I was already planning photos and figuring out who I would send them to marking this historic occasion. 

But at the first swirl of the big fish at the edge of the boat, with my buddy poised with the net like a Great Blue Heron about to strike and threatened with his life if he missed, reality reared it's ugly, whiskered head.  Another confirming glimpse of a forked tail and my dreams of a giant walleye were squashed.  

"Dang, man, it's a catfish!" I said in a response edited for print. 

And a channel catfish to boot.  I can honestly say I'm not generally fooled by channel catfish.  They often roll or spin at some point giving away their identity, particularly while drifting.  I am a sucker for flathead catfish as they don't do this and I've had run-ins with 5 pound flatheads that are sure-fire 10 pound walleye...until I see them.

 

RIGHT SPECIES!

Despite my disappointment, the 7-pound channel catfish joined some of his toothy, piscine friends in the livewell.  Disappointment was quickly replaced with good-natured ribbing but all was not lost. My buddy took the big cat home and it's likely he's already been served next to some French fries and Cole slaw. 

It was a great evening on the water.  We had a wonderful time and the walleye fishing was fantastic.  But I'm still looking for that 8-pound-plus 'eye.  Here's hoping next time it won't have whiskers!