Because we were in Minnesota and it was November 3rd and it a bizarre and balmy 70 degrees, PK and I had to go fishing yesterday. He had heard promising rumors of big walleyes roaming the shallows at dusk along a certain spot on the western side of on Mille Lacs. We had high hopes on the hour and a half drive north.As it turned out, we didn't catch any walleyes. But shortly before sundown, as I was wading in two feet of water and casting a big blue Rap, I was startled to see this dandy northern in hot pursuit of my lure.
I was using light line and no leader, which worried me, because I was sure the fish's sharp teeth would put an abrupt and unwanted end to my sport. But after a couple of minutes, a few strong runs and an awkward and excited scramble across the rocks for a net, I managed to reel the big fish in.
Right away, I noticed that the fish--which I initially mistook for a muskie--had completely swallowed my Rap. Thinking that was a death sentence, I put her on a stringer and told PK I'd steak her out when we got back to Minneapolis. He didn't seem happy about the prospect of having his car stunk up by a big, ripe northern. What he said was, "You're not putting that fish in my car!"
A couple hours later, as we were getting ready to leave, I hoisted the fish from the water, with every intention of stuffing its lifeless body into a garbage bag. I was surprised to find the fish spirited and spunky. I was more surprised when she suddenly spit out the lure. Three treble hooks, seemingly buried deep down the throat, and she just spit it all out. Astonishing.
I figured the return of my lure called for amnesty. I tossed the fish back into the water and watched her swam off briskly, looking not much worse for the experience.
