Summer Time… and the Fishin’s Easy

By Spider Rybaak  

Father and son posing with a 23-inch walleye taken at Cleveland Docks on Sunday night.

A good ol’ algae bloom blossomed over Oneida Lake the last week of July. Common in the 1950s and 60s, the event spread an undulating carpet of thick green slime over much of the lake’s surface, triggering deep anxiety among worrywarts. When the ultimate die-off occurred in the first week of this month, turning the water a chalky color, and planting a stench riding its waves, the authorities closed popular beaches temporarily.  

Fatalists began gnashing their teeth and pulling the hair out of their heads; convinced global warming had finally reached the breaking point…Oneida Lake was Ground Zero…We were doomed.

But they were disappointed. You see, the bloom and gloom came and went and the water’s as clear and the fishing’s as good--some say even better--as before the event.

Last weekend was the first to be free of the condition, drawing the masses to Oswego County’s territorial waters of Oneida Lake.

Brewerton looked like a roving boat show. A steady stream of watercraft of every size and description ran the river in both directions. Every inch of the municipal dock was occupied and as soon as a space opened up, a vessel was maneuvering into the spot.

Some bank anglers jockeyed for casting positions on the dock. The bite was typical for this time of year; slow but productive, for those that kept pluggin’, anyway. However, even those who weren’t getting communications from the deep telegraphed to their rod tips were happily catching rays and enjoying the sights and sounds of the Oneida River slicing through the countryside.

Still, the majority avoided the congestion and simply fished at the access sites on both sides of the I-81 Bridge.  Most everyone reported catching something, mostly sheepshead, pickerel, bass and panfish.

In the background, guys fishing the river from boats were realizing decent results. Bucketmouths and pickerel were cooperative in the shallow bays on both sides of I-81; smallies and northerns were hitting on the river channel’s drop-offs. 

Most believe walleyes don’t hit in August, reasoning the lake is full of food and the pike suspend, feeding on minnows that are constantly swimming by.

The rest of us keep our mouths shut and jig for them in relatively deep water like the channel below I-81 and Cleveland Docks. Walleyes are naturally drawn to current, and both spots have it. You have to fish early and late, when boat traffic is at its slowest.

Then there’s Caughdenoy. The Oswego side is wide open, offering great access above and below the dam. The plunge pool always has sheepshead, catfish, smallmouth bass and panfish, and walleyes move in at night. The quiet water on top has monster cats, sheepshead, northern pike, bucketmouths and smallies, and panfish.

Summer’s winding down and the fishing is only going to get better from here on in. But if you wait, you’ll blow the last vestiges of long, lazy days fanned by pleasant breezes. You might not see catfish jumping but you should be able to catch a few.

The lake's water was chalky in the beginning of August.

Caughdenoy on Sunday afternoon.

Between a Muskrat and a Toad

By Spider Rybaak

Bucketmouth taken on a spinnerbait on the shoals due north of Oneida Shores County Park

I’ve found myself between a rock and a hard place many times.  I’ve flown in planes and fallen in love, so I’ve been between heaven and earth, too. But yesterday’s fishing trip with Ray Chittenden was a first:  between a toad and a muskrat. 

Literally. You see, we went to Oneida Lake and concentrated on the fish-rich waters between Muskrat Bay and Toad Harbor.

While other parts of the lake may harbor the lion’s share of walleyes right now, few can compare with the massive quantities of various fish species found in this magical piece of Oswego County’s territorial waters.

What makes it so productive is its wealth of structure and habitat. Windfalls, reeds and docks line the south shore, while marsh and forest, watered by creeks and springs, cling to the north side’s wildlife management areas. Off to the west, I-81 provides riprap and bridge abutments. And down the middle of it all, flanked by fishy drop-offs, runs the main channel’s deep currents.

And Ray knew how to milk it for everything it had…except walleyes. 

Our first fish is a rock bass weighing at least half a pound. A pickerel comes aboard shortly afterwards, followed by a monster pumpkinseed; all in the first half hour.  

Searching for Mr. Walleye, we move east, into deeper water. Ray puts away the worms and starts casting. His efforts pay off with a three- pound bronzeback taken on a YUM Walleye Grub dragged on bottom along the drop-off west of Buoy 136, and a two-pounder that took a Berkley Power Teaser tipped with a Honey Worm and worked around Buoy 137. 

“OK,” he says, “We got enough smallmouths, let’s go for a  bucketmouth,” and aims the boat for the weed bed due north of Oneida Shores County Park boat launch. As soon as his spinnerbait touches the water, a largemouth of about two pounds nails it.

“We’re on a roll,” he boasts, and suggests we try for some panfish. 

We drift along Muskrat Bay’s shoreline, past residences ranging from simple cottages to palatial homes fit for a bank executive. Six perch and a blue gill later, our time running out (I only had four hours to fish) Ray asks “do you want to give walleyes another shot?”

You bet’cha!”I answer.

We head back for buoy 136 and start drifting. I’m jigging a Sonar; Ray’s working bottom with a worm on a spinner harness. The wind blows us toward the river.

A few minutes later he’s into another fish, a legal bucketmouth. 

While anglers just about everywhere are complaining about the summer blues, smart pluggers are enjoying great fishing on the west end of Oneida Lake. 

Come on over and give it a try.

 Ray with a nice smallie taken on a YUM Walleye Grub.

Monster pumpkinseed's like the waters between Muskrat Bay and Toad Harbor, too.

Bass pros scouting the west end of Oneida Lake

Chains of Oneida Lake

Sunfish, like this bluegill, grow huge in the weeds.

Back in the old days, northern pike were Oneida Lake’s top predator. The Erie Canal changed all that by draining away large portions of the huge swamp that hugged the south shore. Since nature abhors a vacuum, the place now boasts one of the Northeast’s greatest populations of the pike family’s smallest member: chain pickerel.

And the ones you catch are generally huge for the species. While the state’s minimum length for a keeper is 15 inches, anything smaller than 20 inches is scarce, staying hidden in the thickest weeds and densest cover it can find in order to avoid being eaten by its next of kin.

Unfortunately, pickerel suffer from a bad rap showered on them by sour grapes who curse their existence whenever one strikes a bait targeting walleyes, bass, even panfish. You see, a pickerel’s mouth and gill rakers are loaded with teeth so sharp, they’ll slice through the strongest line and swim away with your favorite lure. If you’re lucky enough to get one to the boat and land it, the challenge just begins. Feisty and slimy, it’ll thrash non-stop until exhaustion; and if your fingers are anywhere near its mouth, it’ll cut ya like a razor.

Sportsmen who admire nature’s wisdom in keeping an ecosystem healthy through diversity, admire these primitive, native American creatures for their vicious strikes, spirited fight and delicious taste.

After all, as cousin Staash likes to say, “Challenge is what we thrive on…eh?”

So when my good buddy Bob Twitchell mentioned all the pickerel he catches while fishing for walleyes in deep weeds, I started salivating.

“Hey, man, you gotta take me,” I pleaded.

A few days later we’re on the west end of the lake casting black jigs tipped with pieces of worm into weeds submerged in anywhere from 10 to 20 feet of water. Shortly, Bob gets the first fish, a lively, 20-inch walleye.

Casting out again, he gets a hit immediately. This time it's a pickerel. Netting it to prevent it from cutting off while struggling at the side of the boat, he carefully retrieves his jig, releases the fish and casts out again.

I’m fishless and growing increasingly jealous. Adding insult to injury, the curly-tail grub I’m vertically jigging keeps sticking itself in the tail. A couple frustrating minutes later, I swallow my pride and bum a bucktail. Tipping it with a worm (also bummed) I drop it over the side. In the time it takes to close the bail and reel in the slack, a two-pound bucketmouth slams it and the fight is on.

We spent the next three hours drifting over weeds loaded with pickerel, monster sunfish, rafts of large white perch averaging a pound, and another walleye.

Oneida Lake’s western half is loaded with weed beds. Watered by surviving swamps and numerous tributaries, punctuated with shoals, islands and deep rock piles, it’s the ideal habitat for all manner of bait ranging from insects and invertebrates to massive schools of minnows.

This abundance of food draws and holds a wide variety of game fish; while the weeds, boulders and shoreline structure give them cover from the sun. Add ‘em together and you come up with the exceptionally productive summer habitats this part of the lake is famous for.


 Large white perch abound in Oneida Lake this year.

A typical Oneida Lake pumpkinseed.

A typical Oneida Lake bucketmouth.

Our first pickerel.

Bob holding his 20-inch walleye.