Bluegills Biting and All's Well

By high summer, bluegills were no longer on their beds, which made fishing for them include rowing around the lake, tossing lines, and watching for bobber action.

When I wasn’t admiring the scenery.

Highlights of a Michigan summer.

Clouds would gather and the wind turn still. Light, breezy weather after a storm was no time to promise a panfish dinner. Ruffled water and fresh air, however delightful for the angler, kept fish away from our lines. But before rain or a thunderstorm, when falling barometer readings sent birds darting from tree to tree, we could return to shore with enough fish to fill a skillet or two.

We’d find a weedy area near a drop-off and take out a fresh nightcrawler. Yes, I managed to bait my own hooks, unless we used crickets.

Not for any money.

Those little buggers escaped their cage and hopped around the boat, so even when Dave set my hook, I spent half my attention watching for six-legged invaders jumping in my direction.

I miss fishing on a Michigan summer morning, afternoon, or evening.

Dave was a true sports fisherman. He preferred the challenge of hooking largemouth bass, lurking on the lake edge near logs or water lilies, dawn or dusk, and experimented with various lures. Since bass hunted in dim light, pre-sunrise and post-sunset were the best times to trick them, or on an overcast day in light rain.

I enjoyed the setting, but was more likely to be gazing at the treeline or cloud colors, inhaling fresh air, and daydreaming across still water.

We spent many hours on Pontiac Lake in Waterford Township or Wildwood Lake at Holly’s State Park. At the campground one afternoon, a tent neighbor taught Dave the best way to fillet fish, and he passed on the secrets to me. I even had my own (small) fillet knife, and from that time on, filleted everything I caught, regardless of size.

Instead of peeling rib bones from fried fish, I dipped fillets in pancake flour, frying them in butter and oil. Popped them in—mouth-watering.

The best inland lake fish for eating, though, were yellow perch. Nothing matched their firm, distinctive flavor, and they win my vote for the best-eating fish possible.

They were also excellent for ice fishing, since they stayed active all winter, shallow or deeper, and could be found in inland lakes, the Great Lakes, Lake St. Clair, Saginaw Bay, eastern U.P, and across southern Michigan.

Bass were more of a challenge, and the goal was to win the battle with the biggest largemouth in the lake, not shared, of course, by the irritable piscine fighter.

The record for a largemouth bass in Michigan was in 1934, William Maloney, who caught a 11.9-pound bass, 27 inches long, at Big Pine Island Lake in Kent County. (The average largemouth bass is around two-four pounds).

Our most memorable bass fishing night was in the Kalkaska area, at a small lake near my parents’ ten-acre property. The night was still, the moon full, and there wasn’t another human for miles.

Or so we thought.

Dave was preparing to toss his line again at a mess of weeds when someone threw a boulder at our rowboat, barely missing us. Splash! I inhaled so hard, I squeaked, but there were no voices and no one on shore. A moment later, it happened again, a thunderous noise, on the other side of the boat.

We’d threatened the local beaver, who slapped the water with his tail to warn us away.

It worked.

I’d have been contented to fish inland lakes forever, but Dave discovered the thrill of walleye fishing, and we spent most of our time on Lake St. Clair where he aimed for the limit, while I apologized again for catching my hook on one of the underwater blocks.

One afternoon, when my hook jammed, I opened my mouth to request moving the boat when my line tightened and moved.

“I’ve got something,” I said, “and it’s heavy.”

“Keep the line tight, not too tight, let it run…”

I could barely hold on to my reel when the monster leaped from the water, spit out my bothersome hook, and splashed into the lake.

A sturgeon.

The thing was bigger than our children.

Yes, it was thrilling, but no, I didn’t reel it in. In fact, it bent my pole and stripped the reel.

Walleye (yellow pickerel) were as exciting. Predators with teeth, the largest of the perch family were plentiful and migrated, so finding moving schools was part of the challenge.

They snapped up live bait or lures, and weighed from three-seven pounds, or more, so made the attempts to land one memorable. Good eating, too—tender, flaky, almost sweet when fried in our cast iron skillet.

I’m sorry, but fish in warm Florida lakes can’t compare to the fillets we gobbled in those Michigan summer days.

I miss Michigan summer afternoons. Miss sitting in a rowboat, line in the water, waiting for the bobber to promise action, and inhaling leisure and views of water, sky, and lush trees.

And anticipating fish dinner.
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Published on July 08, 2023 19:52 Tags: bluegill, largemouth-bass, michigan-fishing-inland-lakes, walleye, yellow-perch
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