Pheasant Season Just Around the Corner

By Spider Rybaak

For most outdoor lovers, October in Oswego County promises streams swollen with trophy salmon and trout, Oneida Lake walleyes moving to within casting distance of shore, and the discordant songs of waterfowl streaming through the air above it all. But water sports ain’t all the county has to offer. Indeed, when the waters meet dry land—and they always do, eventually--new habitats are created, ideal stomping grounds for birds of a different feather: pheasants.

Pheasants hail from Asia. And although they’ve made a solid foothold in America, primarily the Midwest, the species doesn’t do too well in northern NY because our predators, everything from skunks to foxes, feed on their eggs and young.  And while some chicks survive and even propagate, their numbers are few and getting a home grown ring-necked pheasant is extremely challenging.

But Oswego is loaded with edge habitats mature birds find to their liking: farmer’s fields, hedgerows, woodland undergrowth, and brushy clearings around wetlands. So the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation raises thousands of birds each year and releases them into the wild when they reach adulthood.

This year the NYSDEC will release 30,000 birds just before the season opener: October 1, in Oswego County. What’s more, the agency will unloose the county’s share just before the special youth hunting weekend, September 29-30, 2012.

To qualify for the special season, a child must be between 12 and 15 years old, possess a current hunting license, and be accompanied by a parent or adult guardian while hunting. The elder is required for supervision only and isn’t permitted to do any actual hunting (see page 34-35 in the “New York Hunting and Trapping Guide for further information).

The lion’s share of the ring-necks destined for Oswego County is going to be released in two publicly owned parcels: Deer Creek Marsh Wildlife Management Area and Three-Mile Bay WMA.

Three Mile Bay WMA is south of NY 49 in West Monroe and is easily accessible off Toad Harbor Road, McCloud Drive and West Road.

Deer Creek Marsh WMA is a couple miles north of Port Ontario, on the west side of NY 3.

Pheasant in flight near Deer Creek WMA

Deer Creek Marsh WMA pheasant habitat as seen from the Rainbow Shores Drive public access site, about 1/4 mile west of NY 3.

Salmon River Update:

This month marks the lowest the Salmon River has been in September in recent memory. Still, kings have been storming upstream in strength for the past week.

Stringers loaded with kings. 

Low Water Salmon

By Spider Rybaak

The results of Captain Dick Stanton's outing last Saturday morning.

Nestled in an incredibly beautiful and productive web of waterways, Oswego County ranks high on the short list of the world’s greatest freshwater fishing destinations. And this summer we’re proving it in spades. While all the other self-proclaimed capitols of the fishing world are crying because the drought has drastically reduced water levels--and creel counts--our charter captains are smiling, pulling into port with coolers loaded with trophy salmon.

Take Capt. Richard G. Stanton (315-246-4767), for instance. The last two times he’s gone out, he’s led his highly satisfied clients to 16 keepers (see photos).

“We got these off Oswego, 50 to 70 feet deep, over 90 to 120 feet of water,” reveals Capt. Dick. “The vast majority was taken on Echip flasher/A-Tom-Mik fly combinations, and Moonshine spoons,” he adds.

Anyone who knows anything about Great Lakes salmon knows this is nothing new. Indeed, blessed with the Oswego (Lake Ontario’s second largest tributary) and Salmon (the most famous cold water stream in the Great Lakes) rivers, our corner of Lake Ontario is notorious for drawing the biggest concentration of mature salmon in the lower 48 states.

Unfortunately, the rivers aren’t faring so well...yet. Rain has been so scarce lately, that streams everywhere are running at about half of normal capacity. At this writing, the Salmon River is barely at 185 cubic feet per second (cfs); normal September flow is 300 cfs.

Still, a few salmon are in. Not in any great numbers, but enough to reward patient anglers with some of the most exciting fishing imaginable. You see, the fish are already staged off the Salmon River’s mouth and more are arriving every day. They feed like pigs while waiting for the signal (a drop in the stream’s temperature, rising water, nature’s clock running out, whatever) to collectively enter the flow. And while most wait to storm upriver in mass, there’s always a few that run early, on their own or in small groups, usually after dark.

These precocious critters rule the night. In the morning, they’re caught unaware and become easy prey to early-rising anglers. Veterans that survive daylight’s ambush head for the safety of pools and mill around all day avoiding hooks. 

But they’ll re-enter the rapids in daylight if fishing pressure subsides; and it often does the first couple weeks of September.

The key is to find a spot that isn’t crowded with excited anglers. Then you gotta hunt the beasts stealthily: wear camouflage (on sunny days, blue or white will do) and walk slowly, quietly. Swinging streamers through the rapids, or working egg sacs, gobs of skein or imitations like pieces of sponge in pockets and channels, often produce strikes.

As far as the Oswego River goes, Larry Muroski, owner of Larry’s Oswego Salmon Shop (315-342-2778), says, “The water’s in the low 70s right now [September 9] and it’ll take at least a week, probably a little longer for it to cool down enough for fish to start coming in.”

But come they will; and early indications are this is gonna be a banner year for big ones. 

A word of caution: Wear a personal flotation device whenever wading one of Lake Ontario’s major tributaries. Although the rivers are low and easy to wade right now, you have to remember they drain wide areas. For instance, the Oswego drains the entire Finger Lakes region and Oneida Lake. A storm upriver can send a mini-tsunami barreling downstream, raising the water to dangerous levels without warning. In addition, pay attention to the water level by mentally marking its location on a rock, wall, tree, even your boots; and if you see or feel it rising, get out as quickly as you can.

New Dress Code for the Oswego River: Personal flotation devices required to fish upstream of the power plant--Coast Guard approved, no less.

Capt. Stanton's results on Sunday morning.

Early birds on the Salmon River last Sunday.

What this Year’s Final Bassmasters Elite can Expect

By Spider Rybaak

An average Oneida Lake bluegill makes sunnies from anywhere else look tiny.

The 2012 Bassmasters Elite Series tournament wraps up on Oneida Lake this week, August 23-26. And although I fished the place pretty hard in the early weeks of the season--and the bass were abundant, cooperative and big--I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go out and try my luck just before the tournament…to test the waters, so to speak, and see what our visitors to Oswego County had in store.

So I get in touch with my buddy Ray, a native of nearby Liverpool. Not only is he a pretty decent fisherman and all around nice guy, he’s got a boat--and I don’t--which makes him the perfect fishing buddy.

We launched from his berth in Brewerton and headed out for open water. The weather was fair, the southerly winds moderate. We started a few feet from the Onondaga County bank and drifted toward Oswego County.

Half way to Big Bay the perfect hit slams my black and white bucktail jig tipped with a worm. I set the hook hard and I’m into a pretty respectable battle.

A couple seconds later, I knew it wasn’t a walleye because it was fighting too hard; and it couldn’t be a bass because it wasn’t fighting hard enough. I figured it for a sheepshead; a northern pike, maybe a cat.

It was neither. Instead, it was the bane of just about every bass enthusiast I know: a chain pickerel. Packing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth, these guys are notorious for biting through the line--biting-off, in Oneida Lake speak--getting away, lure and all. Losing baits and having to tie new ones on in the thick of competition is gonna make a lot of this weekend’s guests grumpy, I thought.

Reaching the weeds at the high side of the northern edge of the channel, I change to a spinnerbait and draw a couple more monster pickerel to the side of the boat where they look at me with pagan hatred in their eyes, but don’t hit. Sissies, I think as I cast out again.

After about a half hour of short strikes and some clumps of weeds, I switch over to a 6-inch YUM Dinger and pitch it into the holes and edges of weeds, emerging weed ends, weed clusters, anything unusual that we approach.

A nice largemouth of about 4 pounds nails it in a narrow channel between stands of vegetation. Diving for bottom, he burrows into the weeds like a drill. But he never has a chance. An old hand at bucketmouth tactics, I keep my favorite Abu Garcia Revos loaded with 30-lb test UltracastFluorobraid topped off with long stretches of 25-lb test Berkley’s Pro Spec Fluorocarbon leaders. A short, forceful pull on the line and the bass, crowned in weeds, reluctantly comes to the boat. I flip him in so quick he looks at me all surprised and stuff. After taking the hero shot illustrating this blog post, I release it to give the guys in the upcoming contest a chance at catching the happiness I just experienced. 

Large bass have an intoxicating effect on me and I couldn’t stop whooping, hollering, talking away. I should’ve, though, because right when I’m modestly bragging about my prowess, I get another perfect hit, from a bass even larger than the first, but set the hook too late. I feel the tension on the line and see him jet out of the water like a green geyser with a big lump in the middle but my line comes in empty.

A few minutes later, I’m still carrying on, another hits and I lose him, too. 

All this time Ray’s having a blast with sunfish and perch. The guy loves panfish and was busy working on filling his freezer.

Before long, the massive weed bed in Big Bay starts getting boring and we motor over to the other side of the lake to start our drift anew. But the wind picks up and the temperature changes noticeably, growing colder, and uncomfortable.

As often happens on NY’s largest lake, the wind died down as unexpectedly as it came up, things got comfortable, and we regained confidence. We felt pretty good and thought we might catch another bass or two, maybe a walleye and plugged away. But it seemed we couldn’t find another fish even if we were in a submarine.

So we packed it in and I went home to reflect on the day.

It is my unprofessional opinion that Oneida Lake’s bass population is in great shape for the upcoming Bassmasters Elite. Indeed, it might even be one for the record books.

Stay tuned.

Ray showing a nice bucketmouth.

Oneida Lake's pickerel are bigger than average.

Like Minnows to Water

By Spider Rybaak

A couple more students.

You hear old folks talking a lot nowadays about how kids don’t have a handle on the real world.

“They’re so into texting they’re forgetting how to look straight ahead and their fingers and thumbs are mutating, curling and forming calluses on their tips!” claims cousin Staash.

While you couldn’t be faulted for thinking he’s exaggerating, he does have a point: the digital world has made life convenient; so easy, in fact, the wonderful virtual world that electronics brings into our living rooms and backyards can make stepping out into a landscape shrouded in iffy weather and uncooperative wildlife seem risky, or even a terrible waste of time.

Granted, interacting with digital images is the most efficient way known to science for pumping surges of excitement through kids, without them ever getting their hands dirty. But there’s more to life than the sterile audio/visual stimulation found in the digital universe. Indeed, nature whips countless sensations into every second of the day: a breeze’s gentle caress; the cacophony of boisterous waterfowl; the quiet splash of a turtle diving off a log; frogs croaking and jumping  for cover; the scolding of a startled blue heron; the pull of a fish struggling to free itself of a hook…

What’s more, these thrills are free and constantly playing along the banks of the streams and lakes watering Oswego County’s great big back yard. And the best way to launch children--adults and senior citizens, for that matter--into a future steeped in the wonders of the natural world is to take them fishing.

It’s not all that hard to do. All ya need is a rod and reel combo, some bait and a kid--anyone’s’ will do; provided you get the parents’ permission, of course.  There’s plenty of safe spots around to fish, like the parks lining both sides of the river in the city of Oswego; the locks at Fulton and Phoenix; above and below the dam in Caughdenoy; the municipal dock on the north bank in Brewerton; the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation’s Fishing Access Site on CR 37, below the north end of the I-81 bridge; Cleveland Docks on NY 49; Fulton’s Lake Neahtahwanta...

If you don’t know much about angling, don’t worry about it. Kids take to fishing like minnows to water, and if the fish ain’t hittin’, the kids are sure to have fun watching nature bustling all around them.

However, it’s always nice to catch something. In fact, landing a first fish, regardless of size or make (carp, perch, sunfish, bullhead, to mention a few) is sure to etch itself deeply into the person’s memories for life, and might even hook them hopelessly to a lifelong pastime.

With that in mind, me and Mike McGrath, owner of McGrath & Associates Carp Angling Services, have begun conducting free monthly fishing classes this year. Primarily designed for kids, we provide everything from instructions to loaner equipment--and we’ll teach their parents, too.

Our last one was held at Fulton’s Lake Neahtahwanta last month. McGrath, one of America’s pre-eminent carp experts, held 10 children and their guardians captive for two hours, explaining and demonstrating carp subjects ranging from habitat preferences and mixing chum (a recipe of grains, syrups Marukyu baits and other delights used to draw the fish in close) to the knots and terminal tackle they’d need to successfully fish for the species.

After his course in theory, McGrath led the kids to a spot on the lake, cast out a couple lines and promptly caught a 10 pound carp. The students and their parents were mesmerized by the man’s expertise in fishing for this monstrous species, a popular game fish in Asia and Europe.

Meanwhile, I was on the beach handing out free Berkley PowerBaits, including Atomic Teasers, Power Honey Worms, Ripple Shads, Atomic Mites and Wigglers, and Johnson Beetle Spins to each student, and loaning Shakespeare Classic rod and reel combos to kids who didn’t have their own fishing equipment.

Worms were also available, but half-way through the session, so many kids (95 percent) were catching everything from bluegills and pumpkinseeds to white and yellow perch on the PowerBaits, everyone started using them and the worms were spared.

Our next class is this Saturday, August 18, at Lake Neahtahwanta’s Bullhead Point (where the gazebo stands on the pier), from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. To get there, head west on NY 3 in Fulton and follow it west to the edge of town.

For more info, contact me at srybaak@yahoo.com or McGrath at mmcgrath2@twcny.rr.com.

A couple of students.

Fishing class...fishing.

McGrath teaching how to mix bait.

Big fish...Wide eyes...and McGrath explaining it

Salmon River Summer Salmon

By Spider Rybaak

Local fly-fishing guide Pat Miura (315-777-3570) holding a trophy landlocked Atlantic salmon he took last spring from the Salmon River's Douglaston Salmon Run.

When you’re as pretty--and mildly wild-- as the Salmon River is, everyone wants a piece of your beauty and grace. And while the stream is lined with beaten paths for fishermen, hikers, bird watchers, yodelers, wildflower lovers, you name it, the only way to satisfaction for whitewater enthusiasts like kayakers and tubers is to get all wet. So in the spirit of making everyone happy, the power company conducts special releases each month during summer--two in July.

This year’s releases have mostly already taken place, and August was cancelled because of low water levels in the reservoir. So there’s only one more planned officially, the first weekend of September.

However, there’s always a chance we’ll get some heavy rains this month; and if we do, the river will come up all by itself. If that happens, grab a rubber tube, air mattress, kayak or anything that’ll float while you’re in it, and a buddy--you wanna have two cars so you can leave one at put-in and take-out—and launch on a whitewater thrill so mildly exciting, you’re guaranteed to get wet.

No craft?...Not into whitewater?...No sweat. There’s more to do during high water.

Take fishing for landlocked Atlantic salmon, for instance. Indeed, the Salmon River is the best fast lane in the U.S. for catching a keeper trophy landlocked Atlantic. Our Atlantic salmon are stocked by the NYS DEC.  (Natural strains of Atlantic salmon are ocean-running fish, and are on the endangered species list.)

Known as the king of fish in Europe because of its superb beauty, extraordinary leaping prowess, incredible power and stamina, and ability to survive the spawning ordeal and do it a second, even third time (it’s the only American salmon capable of spawning more than once), pursuing this fabulous critter is one of the most worthy challenges anglers face in freshwater.

Up until the 19^th century, Lake Ontario boasted the world’s greatest population of these marvelous game fish. Pollution, over fishing, dams blocking migratory routes, and exotic species nailed their coffin shut before World War I.

The feds and NYS Conservation Department (precursor to today’s NYS Department of Environmental Conservation), spurred by the increased environmental awareness spawned during the hippie era (the 1960s), decided to restore the species into the tiniest Great Lake.

Late in the last century, the authorities stocked various Lake Ontario tributaries with baby Atlantics in various stages of development. But the lion’s share of their attention went to Little Sandy Creek, the northernmost skinny creek in Oswego County. It was stocked heavier than the rest, and was even placed off-limits to fishing during the salmon runs to protect the returns. The experiment failed.

Alewives, exotic forage that entered the Great Lakes system through the Erie Canal, were waging biological warfare on the Atlantics and winning. Rich in Thiaminaze, an enzyme that breaks down thiamine, a vitamin essential to salmon reproduction, the salmon were eating themselves to impotence. The condition was called the Cayuga Syndrome, after Cayuga Lake where it was first fingered. Oh, the fish still went through all the moves--run upstream, court, lay their eggs, fertilize them--but the offspring died before they could get beyond the sac-fry stage. Mortality was total.

Finally figuring out what was happening, the authorities lifted the ban on fishing the Little Sandy and got used to the idea that the only way to maintain a token presence of the species in Lake Ontario was by stocking, often with fry from eggs washed in thiamine.

Thousands of Atlantics have been stocked annually over the past 20-something years. While these numbers are tiny compared to the quantity of Pacific salmon stocked each year, the effort gives anglers a chance at catching this highly desirable and coveted native New Yorker.

The most warmwater tolerant salmon, a few Atlantics are in the river all summer long. Periods of high water, like after a rain or during whitewater releases draw fresh fish upstream. What’s more, the food rich higher water often spurs a feeding binge.

So if you’re into fishy challenges, the Salmon River offers one of the toughest in the fishing world.

But there’s more.

“For the past three years, 2009, 2010 and 2011, we’ve netted as many as 48 naturally reproduced fingerlings in the river in any given year,” claims Dr. James Johnson, ecologist and branch chief at the USGS’ Tunison Laboratory of Aquatic Science in Cortland, NY. He attributes this exciting development to “changes in lake conditions: fewer alewives--less Thiaminaze.”

There’s no shortage of theories. One even speculates the round goby, an exotic species indigenous to the Black Sea, is the hero in this wonderful mystery.  

I asked Dr. George Ketola, a research physiologist at Tunison Laboratory, if the gobies could be helping the salmon replenish the thiamine status in their eggs.

“That makes good sense,” the Dr. replies. “Gobies are high in thiamine and with the availability of that food source before spawning…if they have a month or so of exposure…it should make a difference. And I suspect it helps their spawning.”

A little over three years is a long spell in salmon time, long enough to reach trophyhood. The possibilities are the stuff of fantasy, and if you participate right now, you could be one of the pioneers in this developing fishery.

How do you tell a naturally spawned fish from a stocky? Scott Prindle, fisheries biologist at the Cortland office of the NYS Department of Environmental Conservation says about the only sure way is to look at the belly fins. If the leading edges are kind’a thick and wavy, there’s a good chance it’s a hatchery fish (they get calloused from bumping and rubbing their tank’s bottom). If the fins are straight and narrow, it’s probably the real thing.

By heading up to the Salmon River you’ll experience the thrill of a naturally warmed rushing river, and the chance of catching a naturally bred trophy landlocked Atlantic salmon, something that ain’t been seen around these parts for over 100 years.  

So c’mon up to the Salmon River; we'll keep the stream up for ya...for a little while, anyway.

Fran Verdoliva releasing a nice landlocked Atlantic salmon he took in the summer of 2010.

NY007  John Kendell showing a trophy he took from the Salmon River in the summer of 2010.

Tournaments are for Families, too.

By Spider Rybaak

Kids love competition, too.

A lot of people think fishing tournaments are a lot like the playoffs in college basketball. And while some of these contests fit this format, staging numerous eliminations to determine the field that’ll vie for the top prize--the Bass Masters comes to mind—others like the Lake Ontario Pro-Am are open to everyone who doesn’t mind paying a small fee to indulge in a day of competition.

One of the nicest things about being an outdoor writer is that I get to go to new places and experience things in Oswego County’s great big back yard. Although I’ve been fishing for almost 60 years, and writing for more than half that time, I’ve never fished a tournament. So when my boss asked me if I’d be interested in competing in the Recreational Open Division in the Oswego County Pro/Am, I jumped at the chance like a steelhead going for wooly bugger.

Next thing you know I’m on the Green Dock at Wrights Landing asking Captain Bill VanWormer for permission to board his craft, the Lucky Dutchman II.

“Permission granted,” replied the good captain with a smile as big as the rising sun. I found a spot for my cooler among the stuff my four teammates brought along and settled down for the fierce competition I was sure awaited us just beyond the Oswego lighthouse.

I never met any of these guys before. But we were embarking on a challenge that brought us together like family. It was heartwarming for this old man to watch five strangers (the captain included), grown men, no less, put away their petty little concerns and concentrate on cooperating in achieving a common goal. Watching these young men enthusiastically contribute their efforts for the good of the group convinced me America’s future was in good hands.

Captain Bill effortlessly motored us beyond the breakwalls into the open lake. Having chartered for over 25 years, and competed in more tournaments than he can remember, he put us at ease with his angling skills, vast knowledge of fishing open waters beyond the sight of land and marvelous wit.

No one else on board knew much about fishing three miles out in over 300 feet of water (talk about feeling insignificant). I’d been here before but never as a contestant in a competitive event. The other men had some experience in ice fishing contests, events that at least offered them the comfort of solid footing.

But the captain was sure footed even in the early morning swells. He stood at the stern and set more rods than a smart man can count on one hand, all the while steering the ship by remote control. He set some few baits over 100 feet deep, several about 80 feet down on Dipseys, and flatlined a couple lead core lines off planer boards; all without veering more than a couple degrees off course…and even then only for a second or two.

When the first rod tripped, the guy closest to it grabbed it and the fight was on. Unfortunately, the fish got off but the DipsyDiver never released so the fellow had a good workout bringing it in. At the boat, the reality of the situation etched disappointment on his face but playful ribbing from the rest of us helped him see the humor in what just happened.

The next rod that went off met with collective patience. Everyone wanted to grab it but no one dared for fear of looking selfish. The fish got off.

That was the last time that happened. Every time the rod went up after that, someone was on it like a fly on rot.

At day’s end we managed to land a short steelhead and king. Not through any fault of our own. It was just one of those days when the fish seemed to have lockjaw. We did manage to bring in two, and, if you go by my philosophy that every fish is a good fish, we succeeded wonderfully.

Most of all, however, we had a lot of fun. Not just in giving one another moral support during the battle with fish and the playful ribbing that followed, but also by learning intricacies of fishing for salmonids in this freshwater sea, and that in the world of open fishing tournaments, everyone has an equal chance at the big bucks and the accompanying glory.

Numerous tournaments take place on the tiniest Great Lake each year. Two to consider are:

Fall LOC Derby, stretching from August 17 through September 3;                          

A-Tom-Mik Invitational, Aug 11, 2012; www.atommikinvitational.com/index.htm.

Competitive angling is a great way to get the family involved in a common goal steeped in collective excitement…and, if you’re lucky, showered with the winnings.

For more information, contact Oswego County Tourism: www.visitoswegocounty.com ; 800-248-4FUN.

Waiting for a bite: "It's got'a be out there somewhere."

Everyone jumps into action when there's a fish on. 

True Tales from Lock 6

By Spider Rybaak

Lock 6 has bass, too.

Disappointment only disappoints if you let it.

This was proven to me about the hundredth time last Friday.  I had agreed to help my good buddies at McGrath & Associates Carp Angling Services (315)882-1549) treat some nursing home residents to a couple hours of quality fishing at a local pond. Arriving at the picnic site on the beach, we were dismayed to find no one there. Just then Mike McGrath gets a call on his cell informing him our guests had been there earlier but were driven away by the extremely high temperatures and blistering sun.

So there we stood, four adult males loaded with fishing gear, staring at a shallow pond loaded with sunfish. Not that we have anything against bluegills…but we’re healthy, competitive dudes and sunnies just don’t cut it. We decide to go for carp, McGrath’s specialty, a critter he feels is totally misunderstood; a resource underutilized in our neck of the woods.

Our caravan hit the road. Rounding the last major curve on NY 481, the steam station’s two giant smokestacks appeared like they dropped out of the sky, signaling we were on Oswego’s southern limits. The mild-mannered river came into view, followed by a rest stop and the Lock 6 access road at its end. We turned in, parked, gathered our stuff and head for the bottom of the lock.

The City of Oswego’s massive water works unfolded before us, revealing how man reduced Lake Ontario’s second largest tributary to a wimp. You see, according to accounts written by the Jesuit Fathers who discovered the stream for the French Crown, the river dropped forty-something feet in its last half mile, tumbling into a mighty set of rapids that roared downstream under a constant mist.

Not anymore. Man’s intervention has utterly tamed the place, forcing its flow into submission with steel and concrete. Indeed, on the lock side, you can hear the water murmuring as it starts over the dam and hissing as it slides down the concrete. But when it hits the hydraulic at the bottom, it gives up. There isn’t even any discernible current on the east bank. The only indication the water is flowing is the surface foam swirling in a leisurely dance downstream.

But don’t let the serenity fool you. Below this gentle surface lurk some of the biggest bottom feeders in the Empire State.

First you got ‘a call ‘em--so to speak. McGrath, probably the most proficient master of carp culture in the Western World, does this by chumming up an underwater storm. He throws all manner of grains, soaked in tantalizing sauces and delicious juices, into the drink to whet their appetites. Slow beasts by nature, it takes anywhere from a few minutes to an hour—sometimes a little longer--for the carp to come around.

In the meantime, the lock pool’s other residents are fair game.

Pulling out my favorite casting rig, an Abu Garcia combo, I throw a YUM Dinger rigged wacky style. The first cast meets a smallie weighing about a pound, launching it through the surface film. Giving me a look that would scare a mad dog, the fish shakes its head, shooting the hook right back at me.

Marshall, a McGrath associate his peers nicknamed “Animal,” grabs the rod and says “Let a man show you how it’s done.”

After two casts he’s fishless and I’m smug in my knowledge that he’s just a youngster about to eat a heaping helping of humble pie.

Next cast he’s into a smallie. It gives him the evil eye, too, but Animal just laughs…or maybe it was a snarl. Shortly the fish is in his hands and he’s asking me: “See how it’s done.”

Kids, I mutter under my breath and take the rod back.

In the meantime, he’s tying a jighead tipped with one of my Berkley Gulp Three-inch grubs onto an Abu Garcia spinning outfit I brought along. Before he can cast, several carp begin jumping and swirling below us.

“They’re here” McGrath announces and orders his associates to man their stations.

I figured I might as well try the grub Animal just put down and cast it into deep water. Right when it hits bottom, it gets hit hard, sending me into a reverie: I’m gonna show the kid. A split second later the line goes limp. I reel in the jig in and find the point broke off when I set the hook.

A carp grabs McGrath Associate Darrell Stories’ bait. He sets the hook and the fight is on. We gather around his wheelchair to give him moral support.

The line goes slack.

As we’re forming into single file to take turns expressing our sympathy over his loss, Animal’s rod goes into convulsions and starts heading for the drink. Grabbing it, his reel’s drag screaming in protest, he explodes into a joyous outburst. A short time later, Mike McGrath is up to his shins in water landing the 20-pounder.

During the excitement, Darrell gets another hit, feels the thrill of a large fish resisting on the other end, and loses it.

I tie on another jighead, tip it with a 3” GULP grub and begin working it expertly. I’m really feeling good about my splendid skills…and I get a hit. There’s no fight, though. I bring it in and it’s a round goby stretching the tape at a little over 6 inches, my biggest to date.

And even though the goby was a trophy of sorts, my elation was short lived: Darrell was into another carp; Animal baited up and cast out again; and McGrath was preparing a pack (encasing his hooked bait, a corn pop, into a ball of chum) to cast out.

Smitten by the brute power of Animal’s catch, I put away my jighead and setup for carp.

Animal Starting his cast. Note pack swinging in the air off to the right.

McGrath packing the line baits.

Animal releasing his prize.

My trophy gobie.

McGrath attempting to land Animal's carp.

Line baits prior to being wrapped in a pack.

Darrell Storie fighting one that got away.

Animal feeling for the final take: carp nibble on the entire pack, and when they reach the line bait, they get hooked, and, feeling the sting, take off like a rocket.

Success.  Note the lamprey scar on the carp's belly.