Slow day of fishing. It was warm, temperatures in the upper 80s, with a brisk hot wind out of the south funneling straight upstream, in the direction of the dam, creating wide sheets of ripples on the surface of the water. Not sure how this affects the fish, if at all. I'm sure the heat warms up the water more than most species would like, yet some seemed unusually active. Lot of jumpers this afternoon, out in the middle of the river, as well as some kind of swirling feeding frenzy in a spot just out of reach of my cast, that went on for nearly ten minutes.
Lot of people fishing too, both on the shore and - for the first time ever that I've seen - by boat. A small flat bottom craft appeared and nestled itself just below the rapids.
A kayaker too, though he wasn't fishing...just paddling past.
I got a few bites today, but nothing I could set the hook in. No one was having any better luck that I could tell; not even the people on the boat.
I wonder where the odds of me actually re-catching this big fish and getting my lure back could be placed, numerically speaking. 5000 to 1? 1000 to 1? There are a lot of variables, lot of moving parts, to the process of 'hunting' this particular fish...and yet, it could be said there aren't really. From a certain point of view, it's pretty straightforward, and the odds might be much higher than I think.
The original contact was an accident; I was throwing out for the pan fish I'm accustomed to and not using a steel leader, and this big northern biting through the line was probably inevitable. Moreover, I'm pretty sure that one week prior, this same fish (or a fish of similar size and bluster) grabbed my lure and made off straight to the bottom; I just wasn't able to set the hook that time.
So it's safe to say it's possible, at least, that I got two strikes from the same fish. Both of them were on the same lure, and, more significantly, happened in the exact same spot of water. And I wasn't even hunting for a northern those times. Now I am. I've done some research, worked on my technique, put some thought into lure selection, color selection, presentation...all of it is geared specifically toward the northern pike, and I have no doubt that's why I've started catching them. They've all been in the 14 to 18 inch range, but it's encouraging nevertheless; means that the big one is down there still. There's no reason to believe it isn't.
That is, unless someone else has caught it already.
It's very possible, considering how popular this area of the Chippewa River is for fishing. But I've noticed that this particular spot is almost never occupied when I show up. Twenty yards upstream there's always someone casting out; twenty yards downstream is a bit more inaccessible, but often attracts more than a few die-hards. But for some reason, right where I like to set up, where what I'm reasonably sure was a three foot northern made off with my lure, doesn't seem to be too heavily fished.
Then there's the fish itself to consider when calculating the odds of lightning striking twice. Northern pike are predatory and territorial, which at once makes them very aggressive but also cautious. Prevailing wisdom maintains fishing the right size lures for the right size fish, or risk the animal getting suspicious.
Makes sense, but it also begs the question: what do northerns (and fish in general) remember? They have no cognitive ability as we know it, but on an instinctive level they will surely pass over/avoid anything that they may have had a bad experience with before, right? It seems unlikely any fish would have much chance of lasting in a fish world without this basic survival instinct.
Thus, I try to switch up lures and presentations every so often, while keeping in mind the things that work. Sometimes that's a confusing discipline. The big fish that I'm after struck the same spinnerbait two times (I think...), but since then, I've had no luck with spinnerbaits. The three northerns I've landed all struck spoons.
And what about the lure still stuck in the animal's mouth? Is that serving as a constant reminder of the experience? For that matter, what effect might it have on its physical well-being? I hate to think the animal's suffering, or has died as a result of the piercing, unable to feed. I started blogging about my experience because it was the first time I'd ever had a truly big fish on the line, and have since turned it into a kind of quest just for kicks, but if catching it again and removing that first lure would end its suffering, then all the better.
Of course, as I've said many times, you never know what is going to take an interest in your lure, or when, or why. If northern pike are territorial, then it stands to reason they might go after just about anything that crosses their path, even if they're not feeding, even if it doesn't look like food. A fishing buddy once told me: You want to catch a fish? Annoy it.
Even if it isn't true of all species all the time, I think it's a good rule of thumb.
So giving long thought to everything I know and have learned in the last two weeks, stacking up any number of factors that may keep the fish from my line against the myriad possibilities that it is still alive and still in that deep pool on the Chippewa, still guarding its 'hood and always on the lookout for a meal, and factoring in the time I have left to accomplish this task, which for me is right up until it's too frigging cold to fish anymore (Late October? Early November?), I'd estimate confidently - though with not a shred of actual scientific or mathematical method, mind you - my odds of catching this fish a second time at about 500 to 1. Still pretty long odds, but hey, odds of winning the lottery are 175 million to 1, and I fork over a dollar or two for that every week.
The lottery doesn't do a thing for my farmer's tan.
In the last week, I've reconsidered my initial interest in mounting the fish, should it find its way onto my hook a second time. I don't have anything against mounting, but it's just not for me. If we do meet again, I will probably take a few pics, release, and start crowing to anyone whose attention I capture for even thirty seconds.
I've also made the decision to anthropomorphize this beast from here on out. It just makes it easier to write about, and most big northerns are female. Henceforth, the fish I'm after will be known as Big Missy.
