My Kind of Shedding

Tuesday the 21st, I hauled down to Al and Karin's as I received word that my prints were done! As always, Al did a spectacular job with the prints. Pintails, loon and camping scene, and my favorite, oak ridge monarch gobbler (they look so great on the wall it hurts).


After going through the prints, we headed over to the lake house to pilfer what was left of the potatoes Al had harvested last fall. A quick check over the cabin and box full of taters, and we headed out to the woods. It is always nice to be able to drive right up to the spot when I want to. We parked right by one of our treestands and started meandering through the timber. Al was in search of hollow logs for flower pots, and I in search of my first Cochrane's shed and first of the year. It took me all of 20 minutes to find my first fresh bone of the year!


A nice 4 point side laying neatly by a log.

I gridded he immediate area for the match but I had a feeling it was nowhere near. There was a fair amount of deer sign but I was far less concerned about finding another one at this point. I spent more time taking pics of the timber, and looking for more hollow logs for Al. I pulled a giant loop and ended up on the south side. I immediately found turkey sign and a lot of it. In short order I bumped into the flock. At least 50-60 birds were preparing for their evening roost. I had 8-9 gobblers right in front of me before they picked me out and bolted across the ridge. MAN this spring is going to be awesome!


I doubled back to not completely bust the flock out and popped back into the timber. as I came to the far side just before it drops down into the slough below, I stopped to admire the sunset. I really enjoy this property, and despite the fact that I love ice fishing, I have conceded and totally ready for spring. I just happened to glance down and base in the air, the match to my first shed lay right in front of me.

My first decent match set of sheds, and at Cochrane's nonetheless! I calculated my success rates when I walked back in Ames, I would walked approximately 5.5 miles, or 7-8 hours for each shed I picked up. I was on this property for a little over an hour and had a match set.

I have a feeling I have used up a years worth of good karma in the last few days...




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The Mythical Beast

We awoke early morning of the 19th to chase the something big on Indian. A quick bowl of cereal and we headed out. A balmy morning already at 38 degrees and rising.
We were greeted at the end of the road near the bait-shop by these two weirdos.... Still have no idea what this is about.

As the warm weather has continued, we took our time getting out to our spot. I finally just took the spud bar from Paul and hauled out to our spot again. The ice was getting spongier but was still fishable. A couple more days and this area will be really dicey. With the trot-line of tippers out it was the usual waiting game. The unfortunate part, and what seems like a reoccurrence on Indian is the waiting game takes much longer...


We were out for an hour and half without so much as a sign of a fish. When we were just starting to think about moving, a flag went up. I hauled out there and pulled in smaller pike. NOT SKUNKED!

I was resetting the tipper and had just dropped the sucker into the water when bells went off just in front of me. This fish took a good run and had a little more backbone, but still did not break the 30 mark. What I did get out of the fish was a little jewelry. A small ice jig was buried in the mouth. A quick extraction and release and the fish swam away much happier.

I turned around and headed back to the sled after resetting the tipper and I looked back to see it tripped again. Another smallish pike but much better than staring at idle flags. Shortly before we really did call it a morning, Adam caught one of the nicer ones of the weekend but still just at 28 inches.

We called it a morning and as I had iced a few pike, I conceded that we could head back to Cottonwood and let the yahoos catch their damn walleyes. We stopped by the house for a quick bite of lunch with the Mrs., and then we blasted back out. It surprised me to see what one day had done to the condition of the access area. It was getting much squishier but we still got on the ice. Paul was just short of dry heaving as he was far more worried about getting back out. The ice on the lake was still far better than what we had fished on Indian this morning, but the access was starting to get troublesome. The saving grace is the access is so shallow there wasn't going to be much of a problem other than wet boots. Nevertheless, we got on the lake and there was a group of guys near where we had fished the day before, so we were forced to move farther down the line. I was more inclined to do that in the first place so it worked out for the better. I dropped in all of my tippers and Adam and Paul took little time to pull in some walleyes. Paul even managed to catch another hog of a perch. The guys that were tipper fishing about where we were yesterday, watched as we pulled in numerous walleyes. They finally got fed up with the lack of action and packed up for another spot on the lake.

As we hole hopped around we were closing in on our three man waldo limit. Yesterday took us three hours to accomplish that goal. We iced nine in under an hour. It's really hard to convince Paul to throw back the smaller ones, but his argument is valid; they are all about the same size.

I had only iced one small pike on my tipper by the time we hit that nine walleye mark. I caught another walleye on my jaw-jacker and had just reset it when a tipper went up behind me. By the time I got to it the small pike had swallowed the hook. As I was trying to extract that hook Adam yells at me to look behind me. ladybug was up just behind me. I drop the small pike, which at this point I knew we were keeping, and go to grab the tipper. I get about 4 feet from it and the spinner on top starts screaming. I grab the tipper and set the line into a railroad tie.


I knew the second I set the line this was a monster pike. After the first run I look up and tell Adam this is probably my 40. I was calm and collected at this point without a hiccup of panic (why can't I have that kind of composure for whitetails????).

When I saw her in the bottom of the hole after the first run I knew I had to play it cool. After the second big run, which almost spooled out my tip up line, I got her to the hole again to see that she was t-boned in the hole. My first hook was buried in the corner of her mouth, and the second hooked right behind her gill plate. Without a gaff I knew going in was my only option. I handed Adam the line and rolled up my sleeve as far as I could which was still not going to be far enough. I grabbed the line and felt my way down. My first grab I managed to grab the hook in her mouth and she took off on another run. I played her back up and buried my arm in the icy water again. Up to my shoulder, I was able to slip my hand under her gills. I slowly pivoted her under water so she would come up mouth first. When I felt her bottom lip slip past the bottom of the ice I started to pull her up. At that point I had Adam and Paul right at the hole with me. As I lifted her out I couldn't get her all the way out without standing up. I put her on the ice and gawked at the GIANT! I pulled out my tape measure and Adam and Paul assisted. 40 and change.


I let out my Superman war cry.


Everyone on the lake that day heard it.


As I unhooked my homemade quick-strike rig, I notices she had a mouthful of jewelry. A large bass hook in the corner of her mouth with part of a steel leader still attached, and a newer tingler minnow spoon on the tip of her bottom lip. She was a warrior beast indeed!

Paul proceed to take better photos than I could have asked for.

As the events started to really sink in I would go into giggling fits. Paul wanted to finish off the limit of walleyes so we could get off of the deteriorating ice. It took a little under an hour to complete the grand slam weekend. We had our second limit of walleyes on the weekend and a booner pike. I told Paul I wanted a group photo with the three of us together. After packing up all of our gear I set the cameras on to of the sled and we took our time with great photos in unbelievably good lighting.

I continued to giggle on the walk out. As predicted it was starting to get goopy at the access. Thankfully it is so shallow in there that all we had to worry about was some mud. We made short order of the pack-out and we headed back home. I of course showed her off to the Mrs. whom I know loves me after informing her of this taxidermy bill. While Paul cleaned the walleyes, Adam and I carefully wrapped her up and placed her in the freezer. The only way I could get the fish into the freezer what diagonally. I enjoyed a wonderful celebratory cigar on this 60 degree day. I have fished cooler days in June than what we had ice fished today.



I have fished hard for this beast. I have read articles, and upgraded gear, and read more articles, and put time on the ice. The stress of trying to shoot a booner buck marred hunting for me back in Iowa. I needed something else. My drive for big manifested itself by chasing giant pike. Even back in Iowa I loved pike fishing. It was one of my favorite things about fishing up at my Uncle Rick's when I was kid. When I figured out there were big pike up here in South Dakota, that was it. Adam and Paul still got to catch their walleyes, but I fished giant bait while they did their thing. It has paid off many times but I told myself it had to be a beast before it went on my wall.


This; this is a beast.

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Oh the Adventures We have on Cottonwood

Friday the 17th after work, I headed out to scout lake conditions as the warm weather was taking its toll on the ice. Upon arrival there was indeed a river of water around the access area, but it was still navigable. I worked my way out on the ice cautious about the potential hazards. What I was finding out was, yes there was some run-off occurring but the ice on the lake was just fine yet. Things do change fast, but as of then, we were still in the clear. I went straight for the back corner where Michael's group caught fish. After a hour of soaking tippers and only tripping one, I knew I was in for long afternoon. I ended up hooking one small pike on the rod so I didn't leave skunked!

That was all I managed for the afternoon bite, and I even stayed late enough for the walleye bite that never came. I was frustrated with this lake, and really wanted to explore other options as the pike bite just seems so reduced from last year.


Saturday morning Adam and Paul made the trek up to in the morning, and of course they wanted to just catch their walleyes on Cottonwood. They lagged a little and we didn't end up getting on the lake until 11:30. There were 20+ trucks there by the time we had arrived. We made the sketchy walk out of the access onto the main lake and I hauled out to get onto a spot. I set up shallow and started drilling holes. When Adam and Paul finally caught up I had most of my holes drilled already. It took way too long for me to find a pike of any sort. Again, nothing huge, but I was icing pike with deadbait. It took Adam all of 12 minutes to ice a walleye in 2 feet of water. I won't say the walleye bite was hand over fist, but by 2:00pm we had just short of fulfilled a three man limit. I was even able to contribute to that! I never did catch a pike worthy of a plug nickel, and I was started to become frustrated. I just want a big pike. It doesn't have to be the Mystical Beast, at this point anything at or above 30 would satisfy the hunger.


By 3pm we had our fish and decided there was really no purpose in us staying out longer than needed as we had our fish.

Despite the lack of big pike it was a spectacular afternoon on the ice pulling in far more walleyes than I thought possible. I know Paul was enjoying himself as he laughed every time he iced a fish, and Adam was on such a hot streak we kept trading holes and gear with him. As usual, that didn't faze his success rate.
Upon leaving the lake I could see a sheriff cruiser parked behind Adam's truck. I didn't really think anything of it as I wanted to talk to him about some of the guys on the ice that day, and upon coming up to his window I ask him how his day is going. He informs me that he is doing fine and he was just finishing up the ticket for my truck....Uh oh...


I start talking to him and I honestly do not remember seeing the signs on the road for no parking on the road. Apparently the locals get pretty up in arms about it. I happen to be fiddling with my phone when I see a message from my cop buddy in town. He was asking if I was related to an Adam Livermore as the sheriff was running his plates...I told the sheriff that I had just gotten a message from Officer Nate in town saying that our truck was being run. Boy does it pay to know people. He asked if we were leaving right now and I said we were leaving immediately. He ripped up the ticket on the spot. I continued to talk to him about other things and he gave a CO's number to call in some idiots on the lake. I told him I will NEVER park on the road again, and that I would have blamed him if he still gave us the ticket. No harm no foul, but did it pay big to name drop!

We headed home feeling like free men, and were treated to a wonderful Chinese dinner made by the hands of my beloved wife. I cannot thank her enough for what she does for us. Anyone that comes to visit knows that yes, I may take them out fishing, but Rachel is the brains/brawn/sanity behind the entire operation.

As we lounged on our awesome plush couch watching cops, we planned our expedition for the morning. As we had the numbers thing down, I convinced the guys to give Indian a try in the morning. I want that giant pike and that lake is my best bet. Our plan was to get up early and try and ice a walleye or pike in the morning. It didn't take long and everyone was fading off as everyone does after a meal in the Livermore house.




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Dickhead Parker

Upon awaking in the morning to make biscuits and gravy, they guys slowly made their way up. The first to greet me in the kitchen was Michael. I almost lost it as I questioned him about his evening.
"So how late were you up?"
"I don't know? Maybe 3?"
"So you must have passed out in the chair then?"
"No, I just fell asleep earlier then the rest of the guys."
"Huh. OK."
I followed Michael back to the bathroom so I could hear him when he discovered it.
"I HATE ALL OF YOU!"-is all I heard from the bathroom.
Michael made the party foul of passing out first, and a permanent marker dick to the forehead was his penance!
To say the rest looked rough was an understatement. Our plan of getting back on the ice again was shot down for a couple more hours to sleep and sober up.

I allowed the guys to clean up the kitchen and their six million beer cans before they left. I also packed away a cooler full of odds and ends for them to take home. Fish, beef, venison, duck, and even some dove. Hopefully they get some enjoyment out of it.


Rachel and I are more than happy to share our home with whomever wants to visit us. We used to do a lot of the visiting, but her job is far more demanding than I had expected, and we have to stick around a lot more. The trade off is an open door policy. I am glad that Michael took advantage of that and introduced me to fine gentlemen. I can honestly say that if these guys wish to make another trek north, we will do it all over again.




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Indian in the Rain

After getting up early enough to make the heathens breakfast, we took a different path this go around and hit up Indian Springs. I told the guys that the quality of the fish we be better on Indian but we likely catch far less of them. We basically drove the length of the lake before settling on an old road bed with a fantastic weedline. we set out our tip-up madness as usual and waited.... It took a go-pro camera down the holes to see what we were up against. The weeds were far taller than expected, but our tippers were right where they needed to be, and yet we sat there all morning without a flag. It was just before noon before we finally had a flag trip. A decent pike, it was about time we put one on the ice.

Paul, Adam, and Cathie showed up just as we decided to pull the plug and find new location. We headed back to another corner with good weeds that looks like a dynamite spot, but again we sat for a couple of hours without so much as a nibble. I was starting to get frustrated with this lake especially when I had guys from out of town. They were far less concerned about it than I was, but I needed something to happen.


As the tournament on the lake came to an end, we had a couple of guys give us a 31" pike they caught. They were just going to let the thing rot so we took care of it. As the onslaught of people came off of the lake, Adam made the decision to move again where there was a giant group of guys out in the middle of nowhere. We relocated and set tippers out into already drilled holes and some supplemental. We were finally able to find a few fish! A couple of perch here and there was enough to pacify the group. Just as the flag were going off here and there, and the perch were cooperating somewhat, the front came through and it began to rain. It never rained all that hard, but it was a steady spit for the next four hours. These guys were diehards so we said screw it we were fishing in the rain, and so we did. Paul, Adam, and Cathie had their shacks, and we had trucks to warm up in if desired but Michael was really the only one that didn't like the rain so he took a looooooong nap while we picked off a few fish here and there.

We never did end up with anything huge, (Tanner snapped off on a big one) but we caught some fish and enjoyed the company on the ice. As dusk crept up on us we decided to start the process of tipper pick up. We were then halted of our progress as Officer Kyle stopped out to check our luck and licenses. He gave us the scoop on the perch and the waldos, but I could not pry the good pike lakes from him; he pike fishes as well... I will get it out of him some way or another.


We packed up the rest and did our tipper count. I was missing two. We found one but were unsuccessful of retrieving the second (upon later inspection I was actually missing two and they were never recovered).
I figured they were just 10 dollar tip ups I was not about to keep these guys out in the rain any longer so we blasted on back to the house.


We were greeted again to a fantastic aroma of pork shoulder and pork ribs. These would end up being shredded into pork tacos. Rachel made some homemade corn salsa, and yogurt sauce. Restaurant quality food on our table. It was spectacular!!!


We spent the rest of the evening sharing stories and drinking a fair amount of beer. As all of my family members faded on to bed, the college guys burned the midnight oil. I found out later they were up until almost 4am.



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Pike Slime and Chicken Legs

Having moved into our new home has its obvious perks. We have ample space to house anyone that is willing to make the trek north to visit us and share the variety of outdoor activities. Michael Parker asked me last summer if he could get a group of his friends up here to chase some fish on the hard water. With little to no coercion of the Mrs, we had a weekend set and they were going to make the trek up a day early. Friday the 10th could not come soon enough. I spent the week prepping gear and food for the six college guys that would be joining us. Thursday evening I grilled a boatload of chicken legs for lunch on the ice. When the first load of guys arrived it was a little before 1am, with the second truck about a half hour behind them. To say we were all jacked for the day was an understatement. We blasted out and were on the ice a little after 8:15am. The bay that always has guys in it was almost void of guys, with only one diehard far up into the bay. We set up camp and starting dropping our mine-field of tip-ups.

It took far longer than I had hoped before we hooked into a pike, but Trent stuck the first one, and the best one of the day.

We spent the majority of the morning hopping from hole to hole and watching the tippers.

We rotated guys on the tippers, and even survived the dozen or so tippers that Keaton was unable to land a fish on over the course of a couple of hours.

It was fantastic when he finally did land one so we could all have a chance again!!!

Through the morning I kept my eye on the guy on the interior of the bay, and whatever he was doing was on the ticket as he was putting a lot of fish in the bucket and was throwing back a fair number of walleyes. I told the guys to not get too close as to push the guy out as he was here before we were. As the morning wore on I was not the only one keying in on this guy as another truck just about ran over our tip ups to get close to the action. I had my eye on him as well. When the first guy finally had his fill and packed up, I wasted no time honing in on his spot. I sat down in one of the last holes that I saw him land a fish in.


It took me all of 5 minutes to land a HOG of a perch!

The other guy was after the perch and landed ten or so waldos while I was sitting there trying to get the attention of the other guys in our group. Mr. Blue pickup packed up his gear and left as he was not catching perch. He was not even out of the bay and I had our guys pulling their pickup in his place. We reset a bunch of our tippers and drilled some more holes. It didn't take long and we were on the fish! Walleyes and perch with an occasional flag here and there. It was a splendid afternoon indeed!!!

As seems to be the case with this lake, I did not want to miss the evening bite. These guys were here to fish so we stayed until dark. We took a great group sunset photo before the evening bite was in full swing.

We ended up doubling our walleye count by the time we called it to head home.

Upon arriving home, cold beer and hot food welcomed us with open arms. Rachel had a later day at work, so dinner was later than expected, but that allowed us to get the fish cleaning done so we didn't have to do it after gorging on Rachel's legendary chicken noodle soup. Having borrow a giant stock pot from the bar in Willow Lake, every time someone opened the door, a giant waft of soup filled the garage. It was divine torture. When the last fish was cleaned, Rachel's head popped in the garage and told us it was good to go!!!
We did indeed gorge ourselves on the largest batch of chicken soup I have ever seen.

I figured the guys would party hardy the rest of the night, but it did not take long for he numbers to fade and we had day one under our belts.




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