Muskie Madness

“Fish such as these can propel anglers toward muskie madness.  In freshwater, perhaps only a muskie is capable of creating a life-altering experience without actually being caught.” {from the May 2013 edition of In-Fisherman magazine}

Well, I’m a little disappointed in their use of the “freshwater” qualifier, because that implies that saltwater offerings include other, equal or more powerful options.  Mako sharks come immediately to mind, and I’m sure that legions have been haunted by various billfish, tuna, shark, tarpon and grouper encounters.  Maybe muskies aren’t the Ultimate Fish.  But I’m here in Michigan 99% of the time, so I’ll content myself with what’s at hand.

As an approximate 9-year-old, my life was first irrevocably altered by the appearance of a fish.  It was a huge, bucket-mouth bass that somehow ended up in my possession.  I can still see that fish, and feel the pride associated with hoisting it up for others to see.  But it was simply a dream.  I don’t know what spurred the dream, and I don’t know what brought me to share it with my Dad.  But what do you know, that night we were procuring bait and tackle for our first fishing trip together.  While it took me some time to get to hoist my trophy, that dream bass (and my Dad's subsequent actions) altered my life's course.  In a positive direction, I might add.

But don’t forget the Amazon Basin's Candiru.  This little freshwater fish will change your life by swimming up your urethra.  Need I say more?

Candiru; i.e., Toothpick Fish.  Beware!

From the Web!

Candiru; those barbs are designed to get in and hold!

In general, I’m in current, total agreement with the opening statement.  You’d think the "First" or the "Biggest" or even the "Next" would be the "Best".  You might even think that landing a fish would be better than simply encountering one… but I’m haunted and driven by the fish I missed.  The lingering image of the cubicle-sized explosion of frothy, thrashed water, the memory of the power of the couple of head shakes during which we were connected, and the pure savagery exhibited by the strike, all supplemented by the near-constant reminders from the store’s various trophy mounts, dominate my fishing thoughts.  I’ve subsequently given up a lot of bass, pike and salmon fishing this season, in exchange for empty days on the water in pursuit of muskies.  Giving up on bass, pike and salmon; a sure sign of my madness. 

A life altering encounter?  Maybe not, and in the end it probably doesn’t matter which fish I’ve chosen to pursue or how I waste my time.  But the muskie has been a near-constant companion for the last 6 months, and I don’t see her being displaced by any local candidates any time soon.  Maybe I’ll even be able to whittle down that “without actually being caught” part of the quote.  In the meantime, I'll have to remain satisfied with the memory of yesterday's muskie tracking down my bucktail and following it for a few turns in my figure 8 before she disappeared.  She's given me more to think about!