In this Issue
February 2006

FIN, FUR & FEATHERS
Getting to the essence of ice fishing
By John T. O'Leary, Jr.

John T. O'Leary, Jr.

About now, most aquatic pursuits involve walking on water. While this does not make you a God, you’ll see the heavens and stars when (not if) your feet shoot forward on the slippery surface and you land on your back. Your dome at that point has more speed built up than any other part of your anatomy and the resultant whack when it hits the rock-hard ice can leave you dazed, confused and hurting. You are better off to go with ice creepers on your feet and a sled to tow along the gear to keep you from being overburdened and out of balance. Snow on the ice can tempt one to forego the creepers. This is when one bathtub-sized patch of wind scoured ice may trip you up. The only thing worse than falling on the ice, short of falling through, is falling on it when conditions have it flooded with water. Then all the bad things listed above happen to you, plus you get wet, and you’ll not last long out there with it cold and windy and you wet.

Some sages offer that the fish bite best with the wind in a particular direction, and they may be right. Ice fishermen fish best though when the wind is light, no more than a zephyr. Wind chill factors seem to drop when there is nothing around to break the breeze, and let’s not forget that we are standing on ice. Hot action that has our hands constantly getting wet in the shiner bucket, or handling fish, robs our fingers of feeling, especially if it’s a blowin’, in seconds. There have been times when any experienced ice fisherman was amazed that they could actually jam their fingers deep into pockets without them snapping off like icicles.

Having a stove or fire going makes a lot of sense. The cheery flames warm the soul as well as the body, and make cooking possible. In our younger years, when dad took Dan and I ice fishing, it was usually just for three or four hours in the afternoon. By the time we got the holes cut with that short, wide-bladed chisel that vibrated like crazy and the tilts set up, we were warm enough to last the balance of the afternoon. When the ice was around two feet thick, we barely had enough time to pack it all up to go home. That is the coldest time. You’ve about lost any heat the sun could provide, and the constant unhooking of the shiners, and carefully wrapping wet line back on the spools, usually had our hands about as cold and wet as we could endure.

As we got older, better equipment and food became essentials. Having our own transportation meant entire days on the ice were possible. Thermoses of coffee, sliced potatoes, and a couple pounds of hamburgers and hot dogs were cooked and devoured throughout the day. Our friend Billy’s lunch sack was at least the equal in size to the one holding his tilts, ice scoop, and jigger stick, and that might only get him through until noon, when his mother might drop by with a couple more sandwiches and a pie or cake. Whether a roaring blaze or a Coleman stove, fire kept us warm and happy.

Nowadays, power augers to drill the holes, wind and waterproof clothing, and portable shelters take some of Mother Nature’s sting away. Boots that’ll keep your feet toasty when standing in an inch of water, or when the temperatures drop to the minus side of zero, and a warm hat keep both ends sealed and the greatest sources of heat loss warm. Electronics that make it easy to find the pond’s structure through the ice and even locate schools or pods of fish can help make hours out there much more productive, and fun.

When you are kneeling by the hole, snow blowing in your face at 25 mph, and you are watching the frozen line twitch across your wet and frozen fingers until a steady pull signals it’s time to set the hook, you are experiencing the essence of ice fishing. With a pound perch flopping on the ice, you feel the needles and pins, the burning sensation of fingers thawing deep in your pockets, that masochistic joy is also the essence of ice fishing.

Be careful and good luck.

Read previous columns by John T. O'Leary, Jr.