I’m fortunate to enjoy so many different kinds of fishing. Depending on the season and the weather, I get after just about every fish there is in just about every way you can think of. In my advancing age I notice how it is becoming predictable what I’ll likely be fishing for through the seasons. Starts in early spring with trout, and once we’re into May I’ll get the boat out for panfish. By summer I have hung up the waders and will be hitting local lakes for largemouth as well as the Miss for smallies. Maybe a couple of muskie sessions thrown in. As temps cool in the fall, I pick up trout again, enjoying the extended season we now have into mid-October. I’ll probably froth the water for muskies a few more times, and I find myself enjoying the simplicity of walleye fishing more than I ever thought I could. Throw in a late fall trip to the Brule and my season is a wrap.
As I’m heading to my angling destination the other day I think about what an anomaly I am. I’ve got two boats at home, but here I am heading out fishing with no trailer behind the Ram. Trout season is done, but I’ve got waders in the back. When deciding where I was going to head to the night before I checked a couple of weather apps…I like Weather Bug in general, but they never seem to get the wind prediction right. Windfinder indicated afternoon breezes more than 20 MPH. Doable in a boat, but not fun, at least not for me. And there is this smallish river not far from here with good wade fishing opportunities. How many of you boat owners would put on the waders this time of year? Not many. I have fished this water for a long time, mostly for smallmouth. I recall a summer evening way back in the 90’s where I was having decent smallmouth action on the fly. At some point I end up catching a walleye that couldn’t pass up the bunny strip sculpin fly I was offering to the resident smallies. I have a tough time letting walleyes go, as I just don’t catch that many of them, and besides, I like to eat fish more than any other human on the planet. And I didn’t have a stringer. And one 14” walleye isn’t going to make a meal, so back into the river he went. Then I catch another one on the next cast. Let him go too. I had the third one to hand a couple casts later and decided to string him up on some 40 lb. mono I had in my vest for leader material. Soon there were two more on the makeshift stringer, and I had a nice reprieve from Tombstone pizzas for dinner that night.
Something you non-wading types don’t realize is the challenges that come with bringing tackle along on a wade fishing trip. Bringing more than one rod is challenging, and I usually go with just the one. Difficult for anyone used to having a dozen or more rods to choose from on the boat deck.
For carrying tackle while wading I have a vest designated for trout fishing, and another for steelhead fishing, and these are always packed full of flies/lures/weights/leader material/etc. 
I realized that my Grandpa Phred’s old Columbia vest is hanging in my garage, being nothing more than decoration and a storage area for his old fly boxes and a few other curiosities. Decided I’d put it to use and it would now be my river vest. While I was at it, I grabbed a box of Phred’s bucktail jigs that he poured, painted, and tied over 50 years ago. I’ve been “saving” these jigs forever, not sure what for…they don’t do anyone any good sitting in a drawer. The jig box went in a pocket, a rope stringer that was also Phred’s went in another. I also put together a basic kit of my standard fare—VMC jig heads and Yum Breakin’ Shads. A few hard baits [including one of Phred’s Lazy Ikes] went in the back pouch. And just like that I was set. No worries about trailer lights, trolling motor batteries, gas or any of that.
50 year old bucktail jigs
A half hour later I’m walking down the path to the river, a favorite 7′ spinning rod in hand and Grandpa’s vest on my back. No trespassing signs keep the cautious angler at the bridge, adventurous types know that you can go anywhere you want as long as you get in the water at the bridge and stay in the water. Easier said than done here, as the bottom is all rock– smooth, rounded rocks, nicely covered with a coating of algae. Makes for slow going even for someone with plenty of experience in this sort of thing. While I want to do some exploring upstream, my limited time had me heading down to “the juice” where I have caught plenty of fish before. I stop to make a few casts at a secondary spot where I typically catch pike. As was suspected, my second cast has me donating my jig and shad to Mr. Scissorface that grabbed on right at my rod tip. I retied and immediately get bit again, this time bringing a pike to hand. Having confirmed that this spot is indeed a pike hole I continue downstream to The Juice, where in addition to pike and smallmouth, I expect to catch walleyes.
The Juice is a big, slow bend, most of the bites come from the lower end of it where the current picks up slightly. The gusty winds have created a parade of leaves on the river’s surface, heavy enough that I try to place my casts so my jig lands in the gaps. I soon have another pike to hand, then a smallmouth. Two years ago I came down here about this time of year and caught several walleyes, all around 15”. Last year I also caught a few walleyes here, all about 18”. So I’m thinking maybe there is a strong year class and I will be greeted by a bunch of 20-inchers this year. My first walleye fell short of that, maybe a 14 incher. Nice eating size, but now I must make a decision that leads to another advantage of being in a boat— in a boat, I could put this guy in the livewell. If I wasn’t able to put any of his buddies in there with him, well no big deal, I’ll turn him loose. Same thing if have a few in the box, and get to the access and start thinking maybe I don’t want to clean fish after all. So I’m looking at this lip-hooked walleye, that I’m now letting swim around me on the surface while I put my hand on the old rope stringer in my vest pocket. Will I catch any more? I’m against releasing a fish that had been on a stringer. Past trips here have produced multiple walleyes…and there’s always these pike. Bigger question –when I get home will I want to clean fish? Possibly in the dark? Or does casually drinking a couple of ice-cold Summit IPAs while waiting for Sarah’s Chow Mein to be ready sound like a better plan for tonight? I unhooked the walleye and sent him on his way.
Another pike or two ate the jig and plastic combo that has become a mainstay for me in many scenarios. I decided to change it up and tie on one of Phred’s bucktails. I selected a black and purple one.
As I tied it on, I thought about what had gone into the making of this jig so many years ago. This style of bucktail jig was once very popular with the local walleye crowd in Hudson, Wisconsin. I had heard the story many times how he borrowed the jig mold from his friend Carl. Not sure of the year, but sometime in the sixties.
I knew he bought all his other supplies like deer tails, thread, and paint from Herter’s. The paint hadn’t held up too well, but the deer hair dressing, while brittle, was still serviceable. We used to use these jigs all the time on the Cannon River, no reason they won’t work here. 
A smallmouth, albeit a small ten-incher, ate the jig on one of my first casts. Another 15 minutes of casting with no more bites had me change to a more classic yellow and red model. A pike soon tried to take it from me, and before long a walleye joined the list of fish that was willing to bite this vintage lure. 
It was starting to get late, I changed back to jig and plastic for a few more casts, resulting in another couple of pike. I slowly made my way back up the river in the fading light, somewhat glad at not being encumbered by a stringer of fish.
Peeling off my leaky waders at the truck I reflected on what a nice session that was. A surprisingly warm and sunny day in a river valley that had peak leaf colors, mostly yellow from the silver maples, but some red oaks too. Wildlife sightings included a deer, a muskrat, pileated and red-bellied woodpeckers, and a wolf that turned out to be a big dog.
I looked at the empty stringer and thought how Phred would have been disappointed that I didn’t keep my fish. The concept of catch and release was just not logical to him. But while my stringer may have been empty, my heart was full… Wait, that was the lamest, most cliché piece of crap I’ve ever written, let me try again…
You might say that an empty stringer is a metaphor for things missing or lost in our everyday lives… Yeah, that was even worse, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
OK, one more try…
I’ve had lots of days where more and bigger fish were caught. And in my thousands of fish pictures, I doubt you could find a smaller pike, walleye, or smallmouth than what is represented here. But what the heck, it was a nice low-hype option on a day really too windy for boating, and it was fun catching fish on those old bucktail jigs. A throwback to good times fishing on the St. Croix or Cannon River with my Grandpa.