By Doug Leier
I’m comfortable considering myself “old.” I remember when North Dakota had a closed fishing season, I bought my fishing license at a gas station, with a trout stamp, and signed my name on the side so as not to mark the stamp’s beautiful artwork.
With that I reference the point of view of Greg Power, fisheries division chief, who began with the Game and Fish Department while I was at Wakefield Elementary school in LaMoure.
I may be old. But Greg is older.
So, when it comes to sharing stories about “big fish” from North Dakota, he has some amazing fish tales.
Greg Power First Person Big Fish Tales
My first big fish story involves bluegill and given that the current state record dates way back to 1963, a truly large bluegill tale is noteworthy. Unfortunately, many of North Dakota’s fishing waters are prone to winterkill and a well-established fishery with quality fish may succumb to a long, snowy winter. This was the case 40 or so years ago for Crooked Lake in McLean County.
In April of that year, we received reports from the public of a bad fishkill at Crooked. As is often the case with winterkills, gulls and the general aroma confirmed something of concern before I observed the first dead fish. I walked about a mile of shoreline, noting thousands of dead
northern pike, walleye, yellow perch, white sucker and bluegill beached or still floating in the lake.
At the time, Crooked Lake supported a strong fishery, so many of the dead fish were nice-sized. Just before I had planned to end my walk and turnaround, I spotted a dead fish that stood out.
It was a bluegill much, much larger than anything I had ever seen. Its size was well beyond the often-used “plate-sized” description. Instead, the fish was more the size of a large platter.
The state record bluegill stands today, as it also did back then, at 2 pounds, 12 ounces, taken from Strawberry Lake, which is connected to Crooked a couple miles upstream.
Undoubtedly, this dead fish on Crooked Lake’s shore was well over 3 pounds. While this was before the days of cellphones with cameras, I still wish I had taken more time to document its size.
Then again, this is what makes big fish stories. Even though this occurred 40 or so years ago, I often still see that fish, stored away somewhere in my gray matter.
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My next tale involves a northern pike I hooked but never landed while fishing. A few years back, a fishing buddy and I were jigging for walleye on the Missouri River north of Bismarck. From my perspective, there’s nothing more enjoyable than using lightweight jigs to catch 16- to 18-inch walleye. We had boated several walleye when I snagged what I suspected was a tree. As often noted by fellow anglers who experience the infamous “tree snag,” after a few seconds the tree started to move … upstream. The battle was on.
After participating in a few incidental paddlefish snags with my small jigs in the past, I fully expected the same outcome with the fish at the end of my line. Meaning, the fish would come near the surface and rocket off as my reel would sing goodbye. That was not the case this time. The fish remained deep and kept going against the current. After about two hours (sorry, let’s realistically say about a minute or two), I was able to coax the fish near the surface. As we were hoping to finally lay our eyes on this giant, it again made another deep run. Someway, somehow
my 6-pound test line was holding up, far better than my feeble arms. After another couple minutes, I again managed to work the fish to the surface, and we finally laid eyes on the prize. It was the largest northern pike I’d ever seen (minus a few European photos). Its shoulder width was astonishing. A true once-in-a-lifetime fish that had no intentions of sticking around for a photo opp.
As the pike decided enough was enough and made its final run to freedom, I swear it looked back at me with a smile. The outdoors has a way of leaving one humbled and in awe with both its beauty and wild spirit and this was one of those times.
Although this pike was likely around 30 pounds, as the years have passed, and since this is my story, I now believe it was 50 pounds.
Read more stories about big fish from Greg Power in the online version of North Dakota OUTDOORS on the department’s website, gf.nd.gov.
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