Freshwater Fishing In Maine
Monday, June 13, 2011
Smallmouth Bass, Lake Trout, and Northern Pike
This website provides information on each fish. http://www.seagulloutfitters.com/tackle.htm. It includes information to help catch them. Their great methods of catching Northern Pike and Lake Trout couldn't be further juxtaposed from my story on catching the small Yellow Perch.
Going Fishing Soon?
If you have any desire to go fishing, take a quick look at this article: http://www.examiner.com/new-england-travel-in-manchester/best-fishing-spots-maine. It gives a complete list as to where to fish. It has a spot for anyone, no matter where you live in Maine.
The Secret Spot
Picture By http://i858.photobucket.com/albums/ab148/jeorge1957/13.jpg
Anyone who fishes often has a secret spot in which they like to go to catch some fish. When I was younger, there was a spot that fit this description. Of course, this was a secret spot that everyone in the family knew about. I wanted to catch that big fish. I didn't care if it was a bottom-feeder or any other fish that other people try to avoid. No. I wanted just to get that one fish that was bigger than the rest.
My father, my cousin, and I would often jump in my father's 1948 red jeep that had been restored, and sneak through the woods down a bumpy trail. Branches would often come out of nowhere and smack you in the face. It was worth it when you got to the end of the trail. The trail led to something magnificent and beautiful. At the end, it was a junkyard. There was an old rusty grill that was half destroyed. I guessed that someone didn't want it and decided just to dump it here because there was no way that anything that the grill would produce would be edible.
The water didn't look to much better now that I think about it. The algae covered the water in a thin layer. It was enough to cover a lot of the water. It was a thriving place for living fish though. I would cast my baited rod out as far as I could, as that was my objective as a child. It was not strategic placing; I had the thought that all the bigger fish would just be out farther. When the bobber hit the water, the green water would ripple. It looked somewhat like jello when you flick it due to the abundant supply of algae. The rippling would then stop and then the waiting came.
It was not as quick as catching fish in the small pond, but it was still fun for me. The best part was what came next. My water around my bobber started to ripple slightly. I let the fish nibble on the bait. Finally, the bobber went under, and I yanked on my rod. My father jumped up and came over to me to assist me in landing the fish. I would reel the fish in as quickly as I could. I knew my line wouldn't break. As the fish got closer, I could see the ripples get bigger. When I actually saw the fish, I lifted my rod up high, letting my dad take the fish off.
The fish I caught on this day was not the big fish I was hoping for. It was a yellow perch and hardly over six inches. For some reason I could not put my mind to then, I was happy for some reason. Not just the happiness you get when you catch a fish, a better kind of happiness. I cannot explain it, but it was a happiness that people only experience a couple times within their lives. I know now what caused the happiness. My father worked throughout most of the week. Even on weekends, he always seemed busy. But on this day, he was with me and we were fishing. I had what you may call some father-son bonding time.
That Perch was thrown back. I did not get the biggest fish in the area. What I got was something beautiful in a junkyard. My father and I had a great time just throwing our lines out there and pulling in Perch. It wasn't just that for me. The bonding between my father and I was great. I never really spent that much time with him, and that day, we paid the most attention to each other than we had in a long time. That big fish was never in that small body of water. Even if it was, it is probably dead now. Those memories, those moments, that my father and I spent together still live on. To this day, I am glad I didn't catch that big fish. We probably would've rode home then. I would've been happy for a moment, but by the time we got home, there is no possibility that I could have been occupied and happy. Thanks to that vision of that big fish still being out there, we stayed and bonded. Maybe fishing isn't always about catching the fish. Maybe it's sometimes about the bonding between two people. I cannot refute the fact that fishing alone is enjoyable, but I can assure anyone that fishing with another person is always better.
Anyone who fishes often has a secret spot in which they like to go to catch some fish. When I was younger, there was a spot that fit this description. Of course, this was a secret spot that everyone in the family knew about. I wanted to catch that big fish. I didn't care if it was a bottom-feeder or any other fish that other people try to avoid. No. I wanted just to get that one fish that was bigger than the rest.
My father, my cousin, and I would often jump in my father's 1948 red jeep that had been restored, and sneak through the woods down a bumpy trail. Branches would often come out of nowhere and smack you in the face. It was worth it when you got to the end of the trail. The trail led to something magnificent and beautiful. At the end, it was a junkyard. There was an old rusty grill that was half destroyed. I guessed that someone didn't want it and decided just to dump it here because there was no way that anything that the grill would produce would be edible.
The water didn't look to much better now that I think about it. The algae covered the water in a thin layer. It was enough to cover a lot of the water. It was a thriving place for living fish though. I would cast my baited rod out as far as I could, as that was my objective as a child. It was not strategic placing; I had the thought that all the bigger fish would just be out farther. When the bobber hit the water, the green water would ripple. It looked somewhat like jello when you flick it due to the abundant supply of algae. The rippling would then stop and then the waiting came.
It was not as quick as catching fish in the small pond, but it was still fun for me. The best part was what came next. My water around my bobber started to ripple slightly. I let the fish nibble on the bait. Finally, the bobber went under, and I yanked on my rod. My father jumped up and came over to me to assist me in landing the fish. I would reel the fish in as quickly as I could. I knew my line wouldn't break. As the fish got closer, I could see the ripples get bigger. When I actually saw the fish, I lifted my rod up high, letting my dad take the fish off.
The fish I caught on this day was not the big fish I was hoping for. It was a yellow perch and hardly over six inches. For some reason I could not put my mind to then, I was happy for some reason. Not just the happiness you get when you catch a fish, a better kind of happiness. I cannot explain it, but it was a happiness that people only experience a couple times within their lives. I know now what caused the happiness. My father worked throughout most of the week. Even on weekends, he always seemed busy. But on this day, he was with me and we were fishing. I had what you may call some father-son bonding time.
That Perch was thrown back. I did not get the biggest fish in the area. What I got was something beautiful in a junkyard. My father and I had a great time just throwing our lines out there and pulling in Perch. It wasn't just that for me. The bonding between my father and I was great. I never really spent that much time with him, and that day, we paid the most attention to each other than we had in a long time. That big fish was never in that small body of water. Even if it was, it is probably dead now. Those memories, those moments, that my father and I spent together still live on. To this day, I am glad I didn't catch that big fish. We probably would've rode home then. I would've been happy for a moment, but by the time we got home, there is no possibility that I could have been occupied and happy. Thanks to that vision of that big fish still being out there, we stayed and bonded. Maybe fishing isn't always about catching the fish. Maybe it's sometimes about the bonding between two people. I cannot refute the fact that fishing alone is enjoyable, but I can assure anyone that fishing with another person is always better.
Brown Bullhead, Hornpout, or Catfish?
Picture from http://ferrebeekeeper.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/brownbullheadfacedouglasnegus.jpg
As a kid, my father used to take me out to a small pond where we would go bait fishing, an action condemned by Norman Maclean in his book, "A River Runs Through It and other stories". If he had it his way, we would've spent long hours learning how to fly fish before even going out to the water. He did not have it his way though. We went to the small pond for fast and easy fishing. We caught a Hornpout every cast without fail. According to Norman Maclean, you cannot really fish without fly fishing. Bait or hardware fishers were frowned upon throughout the entire book, but on that day I can tell you that I was not frowning. I was fishing. I was having fun. I would throw my bait into the water. You could almost see ripples in the water headed straight for where I had just cast.
My rod, the word that was emphasized by Maclean instead of the word pole, would begin to shake a little in my hand. I saw the bobber that I was using, another action Maclean would've been disappointed in, start to wiggle. I knew the fish was nibbling on the worm on the end of the hook. He was smart enough not to bite the hook. The water had ripples surrounding the bobber. Suddenly, the bobber would go under, causing an immediate reaction to yank the rod. The hook had been set. I would reel the fish in as fast as I could. The fish was never big enough to break my line, so this action was OK. When I had the fish within my vision, I would pull my pole high into the air, and put the fish onto the ground.
My dad would then grasp the fish with his work glove, as he did not want the barb to touch him. He would take the fish off the hook and throw it back into the water. The fish would quickly swim away, with the ripples of the water following him. The fish itself was no pretty sight. I had heard someone call it a Catfish, so that is what I called it. He looked like a regular fish from the neck down. His head, however, was extremely grotesque. He had small eye balls that were far apart. Sticking from the corners of his mouth were whisker-like spikes. These were what I was taught to beware of. He also had some of these whiskers coming out from underneath his mouth, forming what looked to be a small beard. This fish was definitely the most weird of them all, but the fishing was fun. I do not care what Norman Maclean claims you must do to have fun while fishing, I know that as a kid, I had fun that day. For me, it was not all about technique, it was about catching the fish and landing it. The moral of the story is that you do not have to be an expert to fish. It is fun for anyone of any ages. The time spent with family members or friends doesn't hurt either.
As a kid, my father used to take me out to a small pond where we would go bait fishing, an action condemned by Norman Maclean in his book, "A River Runs Through It and other stories". If he had it his way, we would've spent long hours learning how to fly fish before even going out to the water. He did not have it his way though. We went to the small pond for fast and easy fishing. We caught a Hornpout every cast without fail. According to Norman Maclean, you cannot really fish without fly fishing. Bait or hardware fishers were frowned upon throughout the entire book, but on that day I can tell you that I was not frowning. I was fishing. I was having fun. I would throw my bait into the water. You could almost see ripples in the water headed straight for where I had just cast.
My rod, the word that was emphasized by Maclean instead of the word pole, would begin to shake a little in my hand. I saw the bobber that I was using, another action Maclean would've been disappointed in, start to wiggle. I knew the fish was nibbling on the worm on the end of the hook. He was smart enough not to bite the hook. The water had ripples surrounding the bobber. Suddenly, the bobber would go under, causing an immediate reaction to yank the rod. The hook had been set. I would reel the fish in as fast as I could. The fish was never big enough to break my line, so this action was OK. When I had the fish within my vision, I would pull my pole high into the air, and put the fish onto the ground.
My dad would then grasp the fish with his work glove, as he did not want the barb to touch him. He would take the fish off the hook and throw it back into the water. The fish would quickly swim away, with the ripples of the water following him. The fish itself was no pretty sight. I had heard someone call it a Catfish, so that is what I called it. He looked like a regular fish from the neck down. His head, however, was extremely grotesque. He had small eye balls that were far apart. Sticking from the corners of his mouth were whisker-like spikes. These were what I was taught to beware of. He also had some of these whiskers coming out from underneath his mouth, forming what looked to be a small beard. This fish was definitely the most weird of them all, but the fishing was fun. I do not care what Norman Maclean claims you must do to have fun while fishing, I know that as a kid, I had fun that day. For me, it was not all about technique, it was about catching the fish and landing it. The moral of the story is that you do not have to be an expert to fish. It is fun for anyone of any ages. The time spent with family members or friends doesn't hurt either.
Talking While Fishing?
One of the oldest rules of fishing is not to talk while fishing. People have the belief that the fish will hear the noise and be scared away. The people who hold this belief have used anthropomorphism. They have given the fish an ear to hear things with. The counter argument is that fish do not actually hear noise, they feel the vibrations in the water, therefore, if someone is talking, the water will not vibrate, thus the fish will not be alerted. Ultimately, the people who hold the belief that fish can hear chatting among fishermen is false. Fish cannot hear sound waves that are not underwater, as they do not penetrate into water. It may seem a bit surreal that a fish within two feet of you cannot hear you when you are chatting away with another person, but it is true. Feel free to talk while fishing, they will not be scared away.
Anatomy of A Fish
One cannot completely understand a fish, until they understand what's on the inside. For a complete overview of a fish's anatomy visit http://www.iowas.co.uk/fish%20anatomy.html. It includes several diagrams of a fish (internal and external), along with great descriptions. It also provides the different parts of fish and their functions. Understanding this can make you, the fisherman, smarter than the fish.
Maine Rules and Regulations
Click http://www.fintalk.com/states/me/min_sizes.htm for a complete list of Maine's rules and regulations for individual fish. This includes minimum length limits as well as bag limits.
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