The Lake Where You Live

Do muskies live in your lake? Many say autumn is the best time to fish for them. Lots of anglers drive a couple hundred miles and several hours to pursue them.

I have them right out my door on Birch Lake, and a couple of miles away by road on Big Bearskin. So why does my musky rod spend almost all its time propped up in a corner of my office? I have to chalk it up to laziness.

Both of my close-by lakes hold muskies worthy of mounting — probably more so in Bearskin. And yet I limit myself to walleyes and smallmouths, maybe taking a few brief, half-hearted interludes each season throwing a large black bucktail.

I caught my first musky on my very first evening of vacation at Jung’s Birch Lake Cottages, more than 30 years ago. It was after dark and I was standing on the cottage pier, casting a yellow jitterbug for bass. A musky slammed it; I managed to work it all the way to the pier on my medium-weight rod with 8-pound line. It was close to 40 inches. I unhooked and released it.

Now almost every year since we’ve lived here, I “catch” a musky or two that grabs a walleye while I’m reeling it in. I bring it up to the boat; it drops the walleye and swims away. I’ve caught only one musky on purpose. That was on Birch probably 20 years ago.

In the morning while smallmouth fishing over a rock bar I saw a musky swirl at the surface. That afternoon I returned with my musky rod, anchored on the rock bar, and started casting the black bucktail around the boat in all directions.

About the time I completed half the circle, and the lure neared the boat, I saw the musky following what looked like an inch behind. In reality, it was already hooked. After a short battle I netted the musky and brought it on board. It measured 38 inches. With a pliers I liberated the hook from its jaw and slipped it back into the lake.

That didn’t make me a devotee. After that I still used the musky gear only rarely. I’m too addicted to the frequent gratification of pursuing other species. I do stand in awe of anglers who fish for muskies and seldom anything else.

I admire their knowledge of the lakes and the fish and their habits. Their ability to select the right lure for the conditions. Their technique — those most accomplished likely could give an hour lecture on the most effective way to do the boatside figure eight at the end of a cast.

They’ll throw spinners and heavy plugs from dawn until sunset, catch one or two fish, and call it a successful day. No disrespect to them, but I’m not built that way.

Still, as I begin to pack the open-water gear away for this year, I remember that I bought grandson Tucker a musky rod for his birthday, and he will want — no, expect — to use it, and for me to be with him. So, lazy or not, I’d best resolve to become at least a part-time musky hunter. 

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.