The Lake Where You Live

September 28 

Until I owned property here I could almost count my autumn fishing outings on the fingers of one hand. My vacation days were limited, I used up most of them in summer and at Christmas, and the stars seldom aligned so that I could make one last trip to the northern lakes.

So in September, when I managed to get out, I didn’t know my way around the water. Autumn fishing isn’t the same as in May and through the summer, and so I struggled with where to fish and what to offer as enticements.

Now that I live on Birch Lake, September is my favorite month. And in the past 15 years (can it really be that many?) I have learned a few things. 

There’s something great about needing to take along a jacket. On an otherwise warm evening, things cool down considerably once the sun is gone. There’s a bracing tang to that autumn air, infused with the scent of fallen leaves.

The loons look different. During my first Up North fall outing (not on Birch Lake), this strange bird popped up a few yards from the boat, its feathers white with a mix of gray and muted brown. I wasn’t fooled for long; the size, the body shape and the long, sharp bill told me it was a loon in winter clothing.

The fish prefer real food to imitations. Expert anglers may disagree, but in my experience minnows are the ticket for fall pike, walleyes and smallmouth bass. I came to prefer walleye suckers, about four to six inches long, fished beneath a bobber. There have been days when I set out with two dozen in a bucket, they were gone in an hour, and every single one got hit.

Leaves flowing on water behave differently. Aspen, birch and most oak leaves tend to lie flat. Many maple leaves become thinner and curl up after they fall onto the lake. A breeze can blow them around like little sailboats with unkempt canvas. 

Ducks pay visits. The residents that raised broods on the lake are gone, but travelers from the north appear, some in small groups bee-lining overhead, some skidding down for a rest break or a meal. My favorites include little grebes that frenetically dive and surface as if hopped up on some stimulant, and the occasional pintail with a call described by Cornell Labs as “similar to a wheezy trainlike whistle.” Binoculars are good to have on hand to identify the migrants.

The colors are gorgeous, and also fleeting. Maples on the Birch Lake shoreline light up in yellows, oranges and reds, the oaks in more earthy tones. They contrast brilliantly with the green of the tamaracks, pines and spruces. The color builds and blazes to a crescendo and then quite rapidly fades to brown.

And for me that’s pretty much the end of autumn fishing. There can be good days in October, but the weather turns cold, the wind acquires a bite, and it’s just not pleasant being out on the water, especially if the fish are in a neutral mood. It’s time to put the rods away and charge the ice auger to await December. 

Ted Rulseh is a writer, author and lake advocate who lives on Birch Lake in Oneida County. His new book, “Ripple Effects,” has been released by UW Press. You can learn about it by visiting his website at https://thelakeguy.net.