Origins

Over the years, they have become the fish I target most through the ice. For one, the chance is always there to pull something really special up through the hole, but also because they fight well and the water they inhibit here is some of the first to freeze and last to thaw. They are gorgeous fish in their own right and formidable predators with a mouth full of sharp teeth. My style of ice fishing for them is primitive, which is a nice change of pace from the more technical fishing I do for other species. Without a doubt, northern pike are impressive and enjoyable creatures.

Esox lucius are not native to Connecticut. Like many species, they were introduced at some point in time and have thrived ever since. Wherever pike roam in the Nutmeg State, they are indeed the apex predator of that body of water and can grow into giants. The current Connecticut state record stands at 29-pounds, taken from Lake Lillinonah in 1980. Just to our north and east, the records in Massachusetts and Rhode Island are both 35-pounds respectively. It’s no wonder why targeting trophy pike in open water and through the ice has become so popular in the Northeast.

Northern pike are predators that eat almost anything and everything they desire. 

Starting in the 1980s, fisheries biologists from CT DEEP have done an outstanding job with the state’s northern pike management program, building it to the point where significant natural reproduction is happening in the marsh systems of a few of our more popular pike fisheries. After graduating college, I was able to witness the success of the program firsthand by taking a seasonal position within DEEP’s inland fisheries division. It remains the most interesting job I’ve ever held. One of the more fun responsibilities it entailed was helping capture and stock northern pike fingerlings.

The capturing part took place on a DEEP-managed marsh along the Connecticut River. When it floods, northern pike (and other fish) make their way into this marsh and a culvert pipe, their only exit back to the main river, is blocked off. While inside, some of the adult pike spawn successfully and the marsh is drained months later after their offspring reach the desired fingerling size, about four to six inches. It was one of my tasks to sit on the river side of the culvert and catch these fingerlings in a large net as they exited the pipe. There was no knowing when or what was coming through. Sometimes large pike would shoot out like rockets—a startling experience on a good day, even more so with a hangover—and I would have to wrangle them from the net and release them back into the river. The fingerlings, however, would be carefully counted, sometimes fin-clipped, and placed in tanks on stocking trucks and driven to various pike management lakes around the state.

On one evening that summer, I remember releasing some of these little guys in the shallows of a favorite northern pike fishery—it must have been like ringing the dinner bell because immediately a larger fish (my money is on largemouth bass) blasted a few unlucky ones hanging out just below the surface. A bunch of these fingerlings, I’m confident, survived the odds and grew up to be trophy-class fish.

Aaron Swanson with a trophy CT northern pike.

Fast forward 15 years to the subpar Connecticut winter we are experiencing now. A recent catch, it turns out my final of the short ice season, got me thinking again about the origins of the pike swimming in our waters. As soon as it came topside, I knew this fish was a little different—it had a pattern unlike any pike I’d seen to that point. I immediately thought it was a cross between a pike and a pickerel because of the chainlike markings along its lower flanks. It wasn’t a very large fish, but it was healthy as a horse and surely unique. Looking for clarity if it was a hybrid or not, I later sent a photo to biologists involved in DEEP’s pike management program. I am glad I did because they shared some interesting info I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

The biologists acknowledged its unusual markings, yet could not make a definitive call on whether it was a hybrid or not without an up-close look at its opercle, the plate-like bone also known as the gill cover. It turns out that scales are present on the upper half of a pike’s gill cover, but are absent on the lower half. On pickerel, however, the opercle is fully covered with scales. And on hybrids, scales cover exactly three-quarters of it. The biologists added that in the 30 or so years that DEEP actively trap-netted adult pike for broodstock, a pike/pickerel hybrid was captured almost every year, sometimes up to two or three of them were netted. I found the possibility of catching my first hybrid pretty cool, but the story doesn’t quite end there.

My final fish of the 2019-2020 ice season and an interesting one at that.

One of biologists circled back with an interesting twist. He had seen pike with similar markings before while collecting fingerlings from Connecticut marshes and believed my catch stemmed from a past stocking of fish from New Jersey. “For a number of years, we’ve been receiving free pike fry from New Jersey that we’ve raised in our marshes, or at Burlington hatchery, to fingerling size and have then stocked in a couple of our pike management lakes,” he said. The neat part, I thought, was that they could tell exactly what body of water in New Jersey the pike originated from.

The biologists had sent my photo to their counterparts in New Jersey’s Division of Fish & Wildlife, who recognized it straight away. Evidently, there is one reservoir down there where the pike exhibit similar chainlike markings. Several of the adult pike from that reservoir were used as broodstock back in 2016. Fingerlings that were raised from the New Jersey fry were later stocked in the very lake I caught my fish in, which made sense because, based on its size, was thought to be in the range of three to four-years-old.

This is not groundbreaking stuff, but it was cool to learn the backstory of my catch. It’s not often we, as anglers, get that sort of insight or closure on the fish we spend so much time and effort perusing. This exercise reinforced my appreciation for the work of our inland fisheries staff and furthered my understanding of the gamefish I am fortunate to target each winter. With the growing respect for the species within the angling community and increasing use of proper catch and release methods, Connecticut’s northern pike management program has a bright future ahead. And hopefully I run into another 2016-year class Jersey fish down the road. 

Another example of a 2016-class pike that originated from broodstock from the same New Jersey reservoir.

Early Ice Trout

CT DEEP's Inland Fisheries Division stocks a number of our lakes with trophy Seeforellen brown trout, a fast-growing German strain that thrives in deep, cold water. These big lakes are typically some of the last to freeze over leaving anxious trout anglers keeping close tabs on long-term forecasts each winter. With last week's arctic blast, we had high hopes that the lake was locked-up and ready to go. On Thursday a friend scouted and fished there, confirming our suspicions and saving us a 3-hour recon trip. By Friday morning, we were walking on three inches of black ice above 80-feet of water.

 

Derrick and I walked out to a virgin piece of ice and got to work.  I took my time jigging while setting tip-ups, while Derrick quickly put in his limit of traps.  When the sun came up, the bite turned on and we chased flags for the next two hours. The action was hot and heavy and we had trouble keeping our lines in the water.  At one point there were six traps on the ice that needed to be reset, but that's a good problem to have.  We both iced some nice specimens on the tip-ups during the morning window, though Derrick had the hot hand and put on a good show.    



Photo credit: Derrick Kirkpatrick

A friend and trout guru, Capt. Alewife, soon ventured out to meet us, but unfortunately the fierce morning action had cooled.  We did have a slow pick of fish throughout mid-day, but nothing like only a few hours earlier. The weather conditions changed, most likely turning off the bite.  A low pressure system moved out and a high, which would park itself over us for the next few days, rolled in.  The wind we knew was coming finally reared its ugly head and the one-man shelters came in handy. 

Throughout the afternoon, we made adjustments for the finicky trout, finally breaking their lock jaw with some finesse jigging.  We eventually pulled most of our traps and focused on jigging with electronics to put more fish on the ice.  We settled into a nice groove by late afternoon before packing up for the long ride home.  It would only be a few short hours before we got up and did it all over again.  The lack of sleep and hefty gas bill didn't matter, we were about to experience some of the best ice fishing we ever had. 

Day Two

Taking what we learned from the day before, we tweaked our game plan slightly for the next outing.  We were the first ones on the ice again, this time joined by Aaron, who was chomping at the bit from being stuck at work the day before.  We set tip-ups right off the bat, without early jigging to slow us down.  We did not set as many however, nor did we spread them so far apart.  I think we all knew the jigging would produce a higher number of fish collectively, but the traps were hard to neglect, as any flag could produce a trophy.  With all of the traps nearly set, a gust of wind came through signaling that it was time to set up base camp and lock her down with ice screws.  The wind blew a consistent 10 to 25 all day, putting the wind chill factor near zero.

With the tip-ups in and base camp locked down, we sat three abreast in the roomy Eskimo and began to call in the trout.  Right from the start, we were marking many targets on our fish-finders, right off bottom in over 70 feet of water.  It is almost hard to describe the fishing that occurred in that shelter for the next couple of hours, but it was nothing short of stellar.  There were several double hookups and even a rare triple.  Hoots, hollers and high-fives were commonplace for the day.  There wasn't a span of five minutes where a rod wasn't bent over.  With the wind blowing outside, it was hard to venture from the shack, even for tripped flags.  However, knowing the caliber of fish that roam this lake, every flag must be tended to, and it just so happened that the largest trout of the day came on a trap.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson



As productive as trap fishing can be, they can be burn valuable time due to maintenance.  Unraveling 70-plus feet of braided line in temperatures hovering near zero degrees is a slow and painful process.  When the fishing is "on", time is of the essence and this is where the jigging rod can shine.  We had the trout in a frenzy on the bottom of the lake and we had to keep them interested.  One at a time we pulled our traps, which helped us from losing our hands to the cold.  We left a select few tip-ups out with rather large baits for the trout that never came.  We continued to pluck quality fish from the depths until the action came to a halt in the late afternoon.  Nothing of serious size came through the holes in the shelter, but 16 and 17 inch trout became the norm, with multiple 18 and 19 inch fish iced too.



Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

The action dwindled as the day wore on, but full advantage was taken during the early ice melee.  We hadn't achieved the size class of Seeforellens we were after, but the sheer numbers of fish iced certainly helped.  It was all smiles during the long pull back to the trucks.  We had a great couple days on Connecticut's trout-Mecca, along with good company and many a long laugh.  The weather conditions were brutal, but equipped with the proper gear, we made it happen. I already know where I'll be next weekend and with any luck we'll crack into a bigger class of trout.