As with last week, the warm weather struck during the middle of this work week and Yours Truly threw responsibility to the wind to fish the waters of Tippecanoe River.  Rumors have been circulating to the fact that sauger and walleye were found in abundance below the dams near Monticello and your ever-vigilant correspondent mounted an expedition to verify this loose gossip.

Typical of all fishing trips, I left my home early in the morning wearing sunglasses and giving serious thought to shedding my outer parka.    Suffice to say that upon arrival in Monticello the sunglasses were washed off my head by the downpour and I had trouble retrieving them from the rocks due to the frozen state of my unprotected fingers.

Below the Norway dam, numerous other fishermen had gathered in the usual early spring ritual of Tippecanoe River walleye fishing.   For the hour I was present, several large and in fact attractive suckers were caught by the ensemble, this angler included.  However, no walleye came to the bank.  During shoreline conversation, everyone agreed that the conditions were perfect for walleye, but nothing was happening.   Cold and wet finally drove Your Faithful Servant back into the van and south to Oakdale dam.  Fortunately, just south of the city, the rain stopped and sunshine finally reappeared.

Parking at the public access site below the dam, I walked up the shoreline.  A few hundred yards below the dam, I passed two older gentlemen fishing with the bobber, jig and minnow rig discussed last week.  I also noticed that both had fairly nice stringers of white bass.

Surprisingly, there were no fishermen in the pool immediately below the dam.  Having the area to myself, I began casting a minnow-tipped jig into the still water just outside the fast moving flow that was coming through the hydroelectric turbines.

To my great and lasting surprise, the first cast struck paydirt.   As the jig crawled along the bottom, I could feel every tick and nick due to the sensitivity of my graphite spinning rod and six-pound test Fireline.   Suddenly, one of the ticks felt different and was followed by a subtle pressure.  Instinctively I hauled back and struck the fish.

As it felt the sting of the hook the fish began moving upstream, determined but not fast, lethargic due to the cold water.   When she entered the fast current the pressure became intense and I could feel the fish shake its head against the drag.  Seconds later, the fish came up, turned downstream and it became apparent the tide was turning.

When the fish came to the surface, I could see the long torpedo shape wallowing across the fast water.  It was a walleye, and a nice one to boot!   Typical of walleye, the fish had given its initial burst of energy then turned into a waterlogged tire, waiting to be led to the stringer.  I was thrilled and began the mental self-congratulations.

One problem loomed.   The fish had given up, but I still needed to bring it across a tongue of very fast moving water.  Too late I realized how fast, as the fish shot downstream with too much pressure on the line.  I began a mad scramble downstream, bashing ankles and knees on the boulders while attempting to keep up with my prize.

Finally, through a bit of skill and a large portion of dumb luck, the fish dropped into an eddy and I could see it clearly for the first time.   The dorsal fin was spotted and I realized that I was the proud owner of an economy-sized sauger!  As I moved to get the fish from the water, it saw my movement and gathered one last burst of energy.

It all seems like a car crash now, everything happening in slow motion.  In the clear water I could see the jig barely hanging in the bony lip; then it fell free and sank to the bottom.  The fish paused for a moment, confused by the sudden lack of pressure then almost casually swam off.

I stood stunned for a moment, then launched into a convulsion of serious, industrial-strength cursing, calling into question the ancestry of the fish, the Department of Natural Resources, the underachieving minnow and the manufacturer of the jig.   Most of all, I was angry with myself.

Eventually, I settled down and realized that, at least for a moment I had connected with one of my dreams from those long winter nights.   I had almost touched the big fish and that was good enough in mid-March.

There was another big fish.  After a five-minute battle, a six-pound buffalo came to the net.   After catching a large carp-type fish on a jig, I knew it was time to throw in the crying towel, go home and have more sauger dreams.

Photo: NOAA, Great Lakes Environmental Research Laboratory

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