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Bob Skogen
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Bob Skogen
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Bob Skogen
It was a slow, cold February day on my secret Minnesota lake north of Two Harbors – no fish caught, no bites felt. Our score so far: 0.
That didn’t worry me. I don’t work at fishing, I enjoy it and slow is normal. Getting away from everything is my reward; catching fish is a bonus.
Still, I’d rather catch a truckload than go home empty-handed. I rank fresh fish right up there with a big steak as my favorite meal.
So there we were, two grown men in a 5-by-7-foot aluminum-framed, fold-up ice house watching little holes in the ice with high expectations. We thought catching fish would be the highlight of our day. We were way off.
Let me tell you a few things here about ice fishing.
First, fishing through the ice is an acquired taste. It wasn’t until I was mostly grown up and out on my own that I heard the fishing call in winter. The call was strong enough that I bought a hand auger and headed to the frozen waters. I was young then and unless it was outright nasty, I could stand the cold by adding layers.
These days, I still like to sit out in the open when it’s not too cold, but when the wind turns bitter, a shelter is heaven sent. A friend with a shelter is even better – offering company and sanctuary. That’s why my friend Jerry Linden is a great find – he owns the fold-up ice-fishing house and both of us find days when we’ve got nothing to do beside ice fishing.
Second thing about ice fishing is that finding fish takes time and lots of holes. The fish are either under you or they are not. Until my brother gave me a power auger when I was in my 60s, I didn’t drill too many holes in thick ice. I probably missed a lot of fish. Now, with the power boost, I drill 10 to 15 holes just for fun. More if the fish don’t show up.
On this day in February, the fish were not showing up. For about 45 minutes, Jerry and I changed methods of presentation and baits, testing tip-ups, minnows, wax worms, regular worms, artifical lures – basically you can spend more time thinking than fishing, if you’re not careful. This day, thinking or fishing, we still weren’t getting any tugs on our line.
Jerry decided he needed some fresh air. With outside temperature at 10° Fahrenheit and a bit of wind, it certainly would be fresh. I stayed in the fishing house. Not that it was overly warm in there; I dress warmly and can’t stand much additional heat. Some like to make it hot in the ice house and strip down to T-shirts. I’m too lazy to take my coat and shirts off, then have to put them back on again.
Anyway, after a few minutes outside, I hear Jerry yell to me: “There is a fox walking around the ice house!”
Birds are the most common wild visitors when we’re on the ice, but there’s always a chance of seeing a deer, a wolf or a fox. I especially enjoy fox and eagles because they usually are not afraid of you. But we can’t be fussy; anything is great.
I didn’t answer Jerry, but looked out the side windows, the only ones on the ice fishing house. No luck.
Jerry yelled again. I looked again and finally saw a fox walking, or more like strolling, in that slow trot that foxes have, headed directly for one of our tip-ups about 40 feet away.
Then I paid attention. I reached for my camera, unzipped the door and stepped outside.
By this time, the fox had decided to do some ice fishing of its own, accepting the sucker minnow bait as a good catch. It pulled the tip-up out of the hole and was moving rapidly, tip-up in its mouth, toward the woods.
Past the ice house ran Jerry, yelling at the fox to drop his tip-up, which it did before reaching the edge of the woods. It stopped there, turned and glared at us – not scared, just upset that we’d interrupted its dinner plans. Jerry retrieved his tip-up and reset it in the same hole.
After the fox walked into the woods, I was mad at myself for this one that got away. I only got off one picture. Fox fishing apparently isn’t any easier than the other kind.
Jerry and I went inside to wait for the fish, and I remembered why it is called “fishing” not “catching.”
I kept glancing out the windows, and to my surprise, here comes that fox back toward us. I assumed it was the same fox; they all look alike to me.
This time it went to my tip-up, and this time I was ready, camera in hand.
The fox first cast a look around to make sure no nut was running at him. Then it reached over the hole and grabbed the flag on the tip-up, pulling part of it out of the hole. Jerry stayed quite calm; it was my equipment. As for me, I was more concerned about getting some good shots than about losing the tip-up.
Once the fox had the rig on the ice, it seemed to check the line for the sucker. Not finding the little fish above the ice, the fox picked up this fairly big piece of wood (the tip-up) and headed back for the woods.
My tip-up is heavier than Jerry’s and the fox soon dropped it.
“Giving up?” I wondered. Not this one. The fox grabbed the flag and slid the tip-up along the ice like a sled. I didn’t want it to get to the woods, go for the sucker and get the hook in its mouth, so I yelled and ran at it.
The fox dropped its prize and trotted off, never looking back.
I picked up the stolen item and as I walked back to the ice house, I had a grand idea for a new twist on fox fishing. I drilled two holes about a foot apart. I ran the tip-up string down one hole and up the other, then knotted it together. When the fox returned, I could get photos of it pulling and trying to figure out what the heck is going on.
I should have known better than to try to outsmart a fox. This one was done with us, and I spent the last part of the day watching yet another couple holes in the ice with no action.
I must say, the fox did appear to be in great shape and it must have been a good hunter. I don’t think it needed our sucker minnows.
The final score for our February fishing day turned out to be – fish for us: 0; fish for the fox: 0; pictures of a fox stealing a free meal: 18 – and that was the great catch of the day.
Bob Skogen says he grew from 3 feet tall to 6 feet tall while in southern Minnesota, but the North Woods called too loudly and in 1974 he moved with his wife and three children to the Two Harbors area. Before retiring, Bob worked for a telephone company, car dealership, lumber equipment manufacturer, in a lumberyard, as a draftsman, a car washer, an inventory controller, a purchasing agent, a janitor, an auto parts man and many years as a self-employed handyman.
Bob, who readily admits to taking his son, two daughters and four granddaughters out ice fishing, enjoys catching photos as much as fish.