The Ecstasy & The Agony
Luke Ellis brings the fish closer for release.
An Oar-Some Experience. Troller Takes 1st Musky
Luke Ellis ushered in the new Wisconsin musky season in fine fashion on Memorial Day weekend when he caught and released a 40-inch fish row trolling a Slammer 4-inch deep shad near Boulder Junction. See the fight and release of the beautiful fish on our homepage video. My nephew was wearing his GoPro to capture the entire fight.
“It was a perfectly flat morning on the water,” Luke said. “I was on the water a little before 6 a.m. and had the lake to myself. The musky hit the slammer I was trolling 20 minutes into the trip. It was my first musky row trolling. Once I released the fish and started rowing again I had some time to think. I thought about Uncle Bob (See Bob Ellis Classic ad in our current issue for row trollers honoring the Hall of Fame Angler July 11 in Presque Isle) and the hours he spent out there, and thought about how cool it was to be a third generation row troller. I can say that now because I finally caught a fish.”
See the entire catch and release on the OWO homepage video.
“More importantly, being on the water gave me some time to talk to God. As I rowed, I was able to pray and thank God for my family, our health, and all that he has provided, and for the wilderness that He created for us to enjoy. Catching a musky was great. Having quiet time to talk with my Creator made the morning.”
A Swing, and a Miss at Last Chance Gobbler
On the eve of the last day of the last of six Wisconsin spring turkey seasons, I was walking with a bit of a swagger. People often don’t like to hunt the heavy foliage and hot temps of late May like I do. The fishing season is in full gear, the musky season was due in on the 12:01 Saturday and thousands of Wisconsin hunters already had either tied their tags to a gobbler, or raised the white flag on the chase. I would be alone in the fields of southwest Wisconsin. A late season hunt had also given me a 26 pound bird and my most challenging hunt.
The 2:00 am alarm sent me alone toward a distant Fennimore in Grant County. I wore a confidence that the over-the counter tag in my pocket just might be destined for a gobbler fitting. He would be lonely now, with the hen harem of yesterday sitting on the nest and accepting her responsibility of motherhood over another date with Thomas. He, on the other hand, would want to continue his moral-less ways and would be vulnerable to the mouth calls I worked quietly in the old truck as the miles burned away.
I can mislead Tom. The winner of a belching contest would have a better chance than me at calling in a flock of mallards, but Tom is in deep trouble when I’m working him. I can work him in to a frenzied lather and I have brought many gobblers great distances to a load of shot over the years by letting him know with the sweet talk that he was just about the handsome-est bird Wisconsin had ever seen. I can scream him in from 400 yards or whisper him in from a hung up stance on a nearby hill.
None of it matters if you can’t finish the job. I did not finish the job although all the heavy lifting was done. All I had to do was connect with an easy shot. It’s fun being an outdoor writer talking about success. It’s not fun talking about failures with no excuses. Let’s get this over with.
It had rained in Grant County as I rolled the truck to a stop in an alfalfa field butting into the corner of a woodlot. I had to hustle after the two hour ride to beat first light and make it one-half mile back to a place where the decoy was placed in a knee-high grass field just 20 yards out from the woods where I settled in against an aspen.
The night before, I realized my .870 full choke was 300 miles north. No excuses. A google search and some research on chokes told me that the modified choke tube would be ideal for the Winchester Long Beard #5 shot I carried; I made the decision to make the kill “certain” by placing the decoy at 20 yards and vowing not to shoot at any bird beyond it.
I heard one distant gobble while walking in and settled in to work the mouth call. Within 15 minutes, 3 different gobblers from 3 different directions were talking to me. Five more minutes and obviously all three birds were coming hard to be the first one courting Henrietta.
The field with tall grass allowed me to see the powder blue head of the decoy and a few inches of brown body. It is a real thrill to hear the gobble of a Tom that you know is already on your field within 50 yards of the ambush; a bird that you cannot see yet because of the sloping field and vegetation. I shut up on the call and waited with scattergun semi-ready to raise a few more inches for the shot. I still could not see him when he gobbled again five minutes later, almost in my lap. The glimpse and then complete fan of feathers beyond the decoy as the gobbler strutted nearer was immense. Back and forth Tom marched, with only that fan above grass visible. Ten minutes later, he literally nosed the decoy with his head and neck extended broadside at that magic 20 yards.
I lowered my head over the bead, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The kick of shotgun from long beard #5 rocked my shoulder…and…
….the gobbler flattened but immediately rose to fly away.
Recalling the times I have watched a pheasant collapse and die far from the shot impact, I looked for the gobbler for 2 hours. I should have been on the road for home 30 minutes after sending out my first invitation to Tom. Instead, I looked until thunder and lightning brought a torrential downpour. I thought I heard the Everly BrothersSinging “I’ll do my crying in the rain”. It was a long and wet ride home wondering what had gone wrong. Really, I already knew.
In the rain, I had taken a 2-inch by 4-inch piece of plastic and positioned it on a stick just above the head of the decoy positioned at the magic 20. I suspected that the load wasn’t the best for the choke and the distance. But the 36 shot holes in the plastic told a different story.
I had simply blown the shot. I had missed, when a fist size wallop at 20 yards would have put Tom down and out for the count.
And if you need to do your crying in the rain? May I recommend 3 rollers on a warm bun and a donut or 2 from the Fennimore Kwik Trip?
Thanks for connecting with On Wisconsin Outdoors. Shoot straight.
Someone has to.
Dick Ellis