Merry Fishmas Everyone

Christmas Day was always a special time. There was typically a crispness in the air and a lightness in everyone’s heart. A sparkling blanket of snow covered the ground, quietly waiting to be disturbed by skis, sleds and shovels. Christmas also brought a break from my job teaching high school. No bells or schedules this day. The morning could linger with plenty of time for an extra cup of coffee. The Christmas tree, which had been waiting patiently for weeks, became the center of attention. It sparkled, surrounded with hastily wrapped presents mostly destined for our two children, Matthew and Ellie. The two, pajama clad and sleepy eyed, would wander out of their bedrooms in anticipation of an orgy of avarice which had been anticipated all year. My wife Pam and I would lord over the scene savoring their joy and excitement even as we saw our wrapping efforts and the money spent largely go ignored. It was wonderful. The rest of the morning was spent trying out gifts, looking for batteries and preparing the breakfast which we never had time for on a school day. Yes, Christmas morning was a special time.  

Christmas morning still is special in my life, but it has surely has become a lot different, particularly this year. My life has evolved. Retired, my wife and I can linger most mornings, the scurry to get off to school each day a distant memory. Nothing special there on Christmas. Our children are grown and have their own families. Although we spend precious time with them over the holidays, they each have their own Christmas Day rituals leaving Pam and I to enjoy them via texts, phone calls and Facebook. We were at liberty this Christmas. Our Christmas had become an occasion for watching classic movies and me preparing a holiday meal for two. It is a time of quiet reflection and, as this year, anticipation of a mid-winter trip to a warmer locale. Often, at some point during the day, I would have to don my heavy winter gear, power up the snow thrower and clear the driveway. Not this year. 

When I woke up at 7AM Christmas morning, the temperature was already 45°F. Nothing but green grass and a bare driveway greeted me as I stared out the front window. Not a flake of snow in sight. The National Weather Service had forecast record high temperatures for most of the area and, in fact, Green Bay recorded a temperature of 54°F, the warmest ever for Christmas Day.  So, as I considered the prospects for the day, I anticipated temperatures in the high 40s, light winds and overcast skies. Pretty obviously I had to go fishing. 

I poured over my fishing records since 1986 and I did not find an instance when I went fishing on Christmas Day. To be sure, I have fished in the days around it, but never on Christmas. If I had, it would have been ice fishing. When I lived in the Fox Valley I went ice fishing as early as the day before Thanksgiving, November 24^th in 1995. I did catch a fish through the ice on November 22^nd in 1999, but that was on the Ross Sea in Antarctica, so I can’t really consider that. You can always ice fish in Antarctica. This year ice fishing was not an option. At least not in Door County. Even lakes in northern Wisconsin, typically covered with many inches of solid, fishable ice, were struggling to maintain safe ice cover. There was plenty of open water here this year and many of the local launches remained ice free. Terry and I had fished for walleyes in DePere just four days before Christmas Day. So, this was a unique opportunity that I could not let pass. 

That is how I found myself trailering the Maggie Leigh to Gills Rock on Christmas Day. The streets and highways in northern Door County were eerily abandoned. A sharp contrast to the scene this summer or even several weeks ago. Most people still in the county Christmas morning were staying indoors. As expected, the launch on Hedgehog Harbor was open and ice free. Also, not surprisingly, there were no other anglers. Just me. I quickly launched and soon found myself trolling lines through the crystal-clear waters off Door County. The water temperature was a remarkably warm 40°F. A light breeze added a bit of a chill in the air, still I did not need gloves as I set out the lines and planer boards. I was targeting brown trout. This is the time of year when these fish move inshore in preparation for the spawning season.  Browns are caught through the ice in late winter, but I had no need to drill a hole today. It was exhilarating to be floating my boat into late December. 

I skillfully maneuvered the planer boards into the rocky shallows. Behind the boards were several colors of stick baits, Rapalas and Thundersticks. The water was so transparent and calm that I could peer into the waters through which the lures moved. I spotted a dark shape against a light-colored section of lake bottom. It was a brown trout. My heartbeat picked up and anticipation grew. The lures would soon be pulled right past this fish. I saw another shape, then several more. There were dozens of trout in this area. Surely one of these animals would succumb to the seductive enticement of a pulsating lure. I became confident that I would soon be battling a powerful brown trout. I watched for a planer board to leap backwards indicating a strike. It never came. I repeatedly moved lures through the area which I knew held fish. I changed lures, adjusted my speed, approached from various angles. Nothing I did was enough to entice a fish to hit. When fish don’t want to eat, they don’t eat. I was beginning to accept that perhaps I was not going to get my first Christmas fish. 

Skies were beginning to darken and temperatures dropping as the early sunset approached. Soon it would be time to return to the launch and head home. There was time for one more pass. This time I would try a spot a little further along the shoreline. I began to stow gear in anticipation of calling it a day when the planer board nearest to the shore began to dance and a silvery splash erupted forty feet behind it. Fish on! I quickly cleared the other lines before picking up the rod to retrieve the planer board. Did I lose it? Damn! My heart sank. No wait, it’s still there. I removed the board from the line and felt the pull of the fish. It was not very big. As I moved the fish towards the boat, it became obvious that I would not need a net for this fish. I lifted the foot and a half long fish into the boat and, to my surprise, it was not a brown trout. It was a Chinook Salmon. A small one, probably a yearling. One that I like to refer to as a “gourmet” salmon, but others might call a “shaker”. Be that as it may, it was a fish, my first Christmas fish! After a quick picture, I debated releasing the fish. It still had an adipose fin, indicating it was the result of natural spawning. I should release it, however a plate of fresh salmon poke would be a nice addition to our Christmas Day repast. A fish this size was perfect for the preparation of that dish. I tossed the salmon into the live well and headed home.

That evening Pam and I enjoyed a Christmas supper of eggs rolls and coconut shrimp (with a salmon poke appetizer). We watched “A Christmas Story”, “Home Alone” and “Love Actually”, again. Yes, Christmas is still special.  I looked out the window at the pouring rain. Special, but a lot different. 

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, Bruce

Questions or comments to bsmith733@gmail.com