March, 1919 
FOREST AND STREAM 
117 
T he huts are hauled to the scene by 
horse and cart, or by auto delivery 
wagon, and they are moved from 
one location to another on the ice by the 
same means, for it is seldom that a fish- 
erman remains a great length of time 
on any one spot. As .long as the fish 
keep running he remains, but when the 
run seems to have stopped he goes to 
another position. The habits of the fish 
regulate the habits of the fishermen. 
The fishing is done both by spears, or 
gigs, and by hook and line, short drop 
lines or handlines. Pike are speared; 
pickerel, yellow-ringed perch and sun- 
fish take the line, with live or frozen 
minnows as the bait. Spearing and 
hooking may be done simultaneously 
through the same hole. The perch and 
sunfish run in schools. One may catch 
a bushel of them in a very short time, 
and then again the catch may be only 
a few in a day. Their weight ranges 
from one to four pounds. But invariably 
the bulk of the catch is perch and sun- 
fish, despite the' steady regularity with 
which the fisherman may be able to plant 
his spearpoint between the ribs of the 
voracious pike. 
Pike, perch and sunfish are caught at 
short distances out from the shore; the 
fisherman must go farther out to get 
pickerel, out to 28 or 30 feet of water. 
Quite often bass are caught, too, but 
these must be thrown back into the wa- 
ter because it is illegal to catch them. 
The bass generally are found in deep 
water, usually where* there is a current. 
I T is the pike fishing that furnishes 
the greatest amount of excitement and 
requires the greatest amount of skill. 
The fisherman uses wooden minnows, 
which he prefers to whittle out himself. 
The shop minnow seldom, if ever, suits 
him. There are old-timers in the Put-in 
Bay district who spend many hours of 
their spare time in the fall and summer 
whittling out these minnows and experi- 
menting with them in a tub of water, 
for the minnow must be made to do cir- 
cus stunts, to dance like a jack-on-a- 
stick at the end of a piece of cord. When 
the whittling is completed, the minnows 
are sandpapered, a bit here, a bit there 
until they reach a state of perfection 
satisfactory to the fisherman. The min- 
nows one fisherman cuts out for him- 
self never would do for another fisher- 
man. Each has individual whims about 
the manner in which the decoy should 
behave in the water. There is no swap- 
ping of products, no dependency on one 
another except that one man might listen 
to another’s suggestions, then ignore 
them or accept them as he saw fit. 
When the whittling and sandpapering 
is completed the minnows are painted a 
shade resembling a live fish, or some dark 
color. The minnows are about six in- 
ches long. Each fisherman generally 
has a collection of them — the one he 
used last summer, the one he made this 
summer and others he has had for a 
varying number of years. The spirit of 
improvement on one’s own handiwork 
is a constant stimulus to steady annual 
output. The casual fisherman, out only 
for the sport of the thing, gets his de- 
coys either from these hardy native sons 
or buys them in a sporting goods store, 
and all things considered, gets along 
just as well with them, I dare say. At 
least, he is generally satisfied with the 
results. 
The decoy minnow must be kept on 
the move. Attaching it to a cord the 
fisherman drops it into the water to a 
depth of about two feet. There he keeps 
it darting around in a circle. And he 
poises his spear, which is of the five- 
tined type. The pike gets inquisitive 
about it. At lightning speed he darts 
forward and strikes the minnow, and 
goes by. A minute or two later he 
comes back slowly, to find out what sort 
of strange animal he has encountered. 
He noses his way slowly. Spear poised, 
the fisherman nails him. The aim is 
generally amidships, so that if the aim 
is poor, or the pike starts his getaway 
for some reason earlier than usual, the 
spear has a moment’s more time in which 
to impale him. The barbs of the tines 
hook under his bones and hold fast. His 
doom is sealed. 
Some of the fishermen put a three- 
gang hook on the minnows to bother the 
pike a moment until they have time to 
spear him, for the spearing must be done 
with tremendous rapidity. But the old, 
practised fisherman wants none qf the 
three-gang hook. 
L ast winter, the fishermen said, was 
the best in the history of the sport. 
On one day, with the “wind from 
the west when fish bite best,” 200 pike 
were taken in each of two huts near 
Lakeside, and big catches were general 
throughout the season. Five pounders 
were not uncommon and very few of 
the pike weighed less than two pounds. 
The biggest pike of the season weighed 
six and one-half pounds and measured 
four feet, a veracious fisherman asserts. 
It is a poor fisherman who cannot get 
at least twenty-five pike a day. Com- 
mercial fishermen grew rich on the kill 
last winter. Their market was steady 
and certain, and in many cases *they did 
not even have to take the trouble to 
deliver their catches. Automobiles run- 
ning out over the ice constantly took 
up all the supply they had and paid 
them spot cash if demanded. These prof- 
its lured many newcomers to the field, 
made many commercial fishermen out of 
men who combined business with pleas- 
ure — men from the little towns and cities 
along the lake, postmasters, storekeepers, 
lawyers, doctors, all sorts and conditions 
of men who tried their luck for two or 
three days at a stretch or two or three 
weeks, whenever they could spare the 
time from their regular pursuits. 
The cost of the hut, spear, lines and 
all other requisites ranges between $30 
and $40, and are easily obtainable, par- 
ticularly in the villages in the Put-in 
Bay neighborhood. 
Among these appurtenances not thus 
far mentioned is a small scoop net with 
which to pick up the scum ice that may 
have been ground away somewhere, or 
(continued on page 140) 
I 
The hut in the foreground is one of the best types, warm, and comfortable in the coldest weather 
