Every year, in fact, I make a concerted effort to learn at least one totally new presentation to share with you. It could be a fresh approach to catching walleye, such as the spin-and-swim system or the amazing Bondy Bait tactic for targeting muskies and giant lake trout. And the list of fresh techniques we’ve introduced in these pages goes on, from Czech nymphing to drop-shotting to casting hollow-belly swimbaits.

That said, sometimes the hottest new secret is not the best option. This became apparent as I watched the recent 2012 Bassmaster Classic tournament on Louisiana’s Red River. The Classic is the premier competition in the world of sportfishing, and two of my friends—Kevin VanDam and Aaron Martens—were locked in a head-to-head battle for the $500,000 first-place prize.

Just as conditions are sometimes less than ideal when we go fishing, the Red River also left a lot to be desired during the Classic. High, cold, muddy water, along with strong winds and cool temperatures, greeted the anglers, leaving the prognosticators to predict a tough bite. To further complicate matters once the tournament began, it quickly became obvious that all 49 qualifiers had found the same fish. As a result, they often played bumper boats with one another.

So, what did KVD, A-Mart and the rest of the best do? They each relied on the one or two proven tactics that have made them famous. It was simply not the time for surreptitious techniques, top-secret lures or hidden locations. It was fascinating to watch five or six of the best bass anglers on the planet crammed into the same tiny cove using totally different methods to catch the same fish.

Even more intriguing was the fact they were often fishing so close to one another—within talking distance—that they could see what one another was doing. But not once did they cut off their go-to lure and tie on what someone else was casting, even after watching him land a big fish.

Nor did these pros abandon the strategies in which they have the most confidence. VanDam, for example, stuck with his incredible “power fishing” skills, while Martens finessed a drop-shot right through the entire event. There couldn’t have been two more extremes in terms of lures and presentations, but when the dust settled after three days of unbelievably intense competition, both pros weighed in the identical weight.

This self-reliant strategy was also employed by all the other top pros at the Classic, just as it should be for you and me when the fishing chips are down. If the weather and water conditions are brutal and everyone agrees the walleye, bass, pike, muskies or trout aren’t biting, you need to fall back on your strengths—and the tactics you have the most confidence in.

If you love more than anything else to rig, jig or pull a spinner for walleye, for example, do it. The same goes if your bass-fishing prowess is based on rapidly casting a spinnerbait to shallow shoreline targets, or you’re adept at catching trout by drifting a weighted nymph through dark pools—do it, even if you know someone else is catching the occasional fish using a different technique.

There are few givens in fishing, but undoubtedly you’ll face some demanding days on the water this season, with everyone lamenting the difficult conditions. When that happens, block everything else from your mind and remember the lesson of Kevin VanDam, Aaron Martens and the rest of the Classic crowd—confront the challenge with your fishing strengths and you, too, will be successful.

Location

To win the Classic, Woodgate focused on rocky bottoms in six to eight feet of water. The key was to find gravel and rubble, not huge rocks, Woodgate says. They also concentrated on areas with considerable current. “The faster the current, the better.”

Bait

Woodgate and Swire mostly used spinners. “I make them myself, actually, but they’re like a Lucky-O,” Woodgate says. To make his rigs, he uses gold blades and two-foot mono leaders. “I don’t use braid. I don’t like it.” As for the debate over whether to use live or artificial bait, Woodgate is clear: “I like live bait—big minnows.”

Technique

“It’s all in the presentation,” says Woodgate. “Sometimes, you have to work it really fast and sometimes you have to work it really slow.” So, how do you know when to speed up or slow down? “You try one and if it doesn’t work, you try the other,” he explains. “You just keep trying until you get something that works.”

Persistence

In competitive events, you have to fish in all kinds of weather if you want to stay in the game. “You have no choice,” says Woodgate. “The second day, we got rained on and there were thunderstorms, but you just have to stick it out.” And it paid off. “We caught fish all day both days. The first day, we got probably 25 walleye and maybe 10 the next day.”

Boat

For tournament fishing, Woodgate stresses simplicity. He removes any unnecessary items from his four-year-old Harbercraft. “Take out everything you don’t need so you’ve got lots of room.” And that includes extra seats and the boat top. “If it rains and you’re fishing, you shouldn’t care anyway because, well, you’re fishing!”

Gear

Woodgate also recommends a back-to-basics approach when it comes to equipment. While he used his depthfinder during the Emo Walleye Classic to navigate tricky sections of the river, he doesn’t rely on it to catch fish. The one piece of gear he does rely on, though, is his electric trolling motor. “You have to have your troller to manoeuvre to where the fish are, and to keep your speed when you can’t use the big motor.”

If that sounds too good to be true, get this: We spent less than 15 hours fishing, burned less than a litre of gas and were never beyond sight of the marina where we launched our boat. And we caught all the fish within view of the good folks of Windsor driving along the pretty river parkway.

So much for the legendary “fish of 10,000 casts.”

Twenty-four hours later, I was back home in northwestern Ontario on one of my favourite crappie lakes, catching so many big, fat slabs it was silly. Did I mention this particular lake lies just 14 kilometres from my front door?

Finally, to cap off the surreal few days, my friend Derek Strub, one of Canada’s best bass anglers, e-mailed me a photo of a giant smallmouth he caught while pre-fishing the Bass Pro Shops Lake Simcoe Open. A four-pound smallie is generally regarded as a trophy—Strub’s fish weighed more than twice that.

With all this incredible fishing, it raises the question: What in the world is going on, and can it last?

Across much of the country, modern, conservation-oriented fishing regulations have replaced the antiquated catch-and-kill dogma of the past. Sensible, modest limits and the likes of slot sizes, sanctuaries, live-bait restrictions, fly-fishing only waters, barbless-hook requirements and special catch-and-release seasons have all played a major role in protecting prime breeding-sized fish.

At the same time, the elimination of commercial freshwater fishing has helped boost the overall population and age structure of many fisheries. This is a no-brainer. At a time when even the best ocean-based industrial fisheries are struggling to catch 20 per cent of historic levels, and species such as bluefin tuna are plummeting toward extinction, it would be folly to allow gill-net fisheries to continue in comparatively small, fragile freshwater ecosystems.

Better fisheries management aside, there’s another major reason we’re catching more fish these days—simply, we’re getting very good at it.

It sounds strange saying this today, but when I first started writing for Outdoor Canada 29 years ago, there wasn’t an angler in the country with a sonar unit on his or her boat. Ditto for an electric trolling motor. As for global positioning systems, the technology was a closely guarded secret of the military. GPS for anglers? Are you kidding me?

Nowadays, however, I have three wide-screen, high-definition, full-colour sonar units in my boat, along with powerful 36-volt electric trolling motors mounted up front and at the stern. And the GPS inside each sonar/chartplotter is superior—no exaggeration—to what astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin used to guide Apollo 11 to the moon.

Imagine: When we went fishing for the day 40 years ago, we spent seven hours or so looking for fish and, if we were lucky, an hour or so catching them. Today, with our GPS units and sonar that scans off to the side, as well as straight down, we routinely spend little time looking for fish and all of our time catching them. And that’s not even getting into the fact we’re outfitted with featherweight graphite fishing rods, spider web-thin nanofibre lines and scent-impregnated soft-plastic baits.

Our ability to catch fish, meanwhile, has also been increasing exponentially, thanks to learning about the latest fish-producing tactics through the pages of magazines such as this one, as well as via television, computers and smartphones. And my, how we’ve learned.

At the 2011 FLW Tour Open on Alabama’s Lake Guntersville, for example, bass pro Paul Elias won the event using a hitherto off-the-wall presentation known as the Alabama Rig. Elias not only netted the $100,000 first-place purse, he also came within ounces of establishing the heaviest four-day total weight ever recorded at an FLW event—a mindboggling 102.8 pounds of bass. This at a competition where the pre-tournament predictions pegged the winning four-day weight at a mere 50 pounds.

Twelve hours later, in the wee hours of the Monday morning following the event, there wasn’t a single Alabama Rig to be found on a tackle store shelf anywhere on earth. The demand for the simple wire-and-lead umbrella rigs was so outrageous that Paul Elias wannabes were bidding $500 apiece for them on eBay. Such is the power these days of social media, instant messaging and the Internet.

With all this new technology and immediate sharing of information, the fishing today is arguably better than it’s ever been. But make no mistake, it’s not because there are more fish out there. It’s just that we’ve become that much better equipped to catch them. As with a farmer’s field, our favourite lakes, rivers, reservoirs, pits and ponds have a fixed, finite, natural limit on what they can sustainably produce and maintain. In fact, if anything, we’re in danger of losing some of our best fisheries.

While it’s true there are not more fish in total out there, in many waters there are more fish of a single species—albeit at the expense of other fish species. Consider the smallmouth bass situation in Lake Erie and Lake Ontario.

The two Great Lakes, along with neighbouring Lake Simcoe in southern Ontario, arguably offer the finest smallmouth bass fishing in the world today. This is thanks, in no small part, to global warming and dramatic habitat changes brought about by zebra mussels and another exotic intruder that eats them, the round goby.

Gobies appear to like living in Canada so much they’ve displaced most of the native sculpin and darter species in the Great Lakes. In the western basin of Lake Erie alone, there are more than 10 billion of the nest-robbing, fish egg-eating pests swarming the lake bottom. In Erie as a whole, gobies now represent the single-largest biomass of fish.

Fortunately, smallmouth bass relish eating gobies, hence the amazing, accelerated and ever-increasing size of the fish. Many predict it’s only a matter of time before some lucky angler on Lake Erie, Ontario or Simcoe catches an eye-popping 10-pound-plus bronze bomber.

But—and there’s almost always a “but”—unless a fish can live near the lake bottom and feed on round gobies, there’s little else to sustain it. That’s because zebra mussels channel so much of a lake’s nutrient cycle and energy flow to themselves and the gobies that eat them that the bulk of the energy cycle is driven to within a few feet of bottom. This is good for bass, but if you’re a trout, salmon or even a walleye, it’s sayonara. Lake Erie’s walleye population, for example, is already but a mere shadow of its recent self.

Of course, zebra mussels and round gobies are only among the latest in a long litany of exotic pests to find their way into our lakes. Perhaps more worrisome is what may be coming next—bighead and silver carp (see “Carp crusaders”). They’re currently in the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal, less than a cast away from Lake Michigan, and thus all the other interconnected Great Lakes, as well as the Rideau-Trent-Severn waterway.

These two species of Asian carp were originally brought to North America by catfish farmers in the southern U.S. to control weeds and act as natural waste disposal systems. After several escapes, the fish began colonizing the Mississippi River watershed in the 1990s. They have since expanded their range northward to places such as the Illinois River, where they currently represent more than 95 per cent of the biomass. Silver carp, which can grow to 100 pounds, are now so plentiful they pose a deadly hazard—they leap into the air when spooked by approaching boats.

Worse still, both the silver and bighead carp are voracious plankton feeders, which diverts food away from native minnow and baitfish species, as well as from young-of-the-year sportfish. What would the millions of Canadians who fish the Great Lakes and its interconnected waters do if there were no longer any crappies, bass, muskies, northern pike, salmon, trout, walleye or yellow perch to catch?

Invasive species aside, we also have fish-killing scourges such as viral hemorrhagic septicemia to deal with. Then there’s the deadly European strain of infectious salmon anemia, which has decimated salmon farms in Scandinavia and Chile and may now be threatening fish along the B.C. coast. The list of hazards goes on.

When I look back over the past 40 years, I can scarcely comprehend the myriad changes—good and bad—to our sport. And while looking ahead 40 years is all but impossible, I will say this: There has never been a better time than right now to be an angler in Canada.

Or a more vigilant one.

Now, I know this is going to raise some eyebrows. And it’s not meant to diminish the advantages of controlled-depth fishing with downriggers or trolling with wire line, planer boards and segmented lead core. Those are terrific trout techniques. In fact, I used a downrigger to catch my two biggest lake trout: twin 40-pound leviathans. And I love the precision made possible with metal line.

But remember, I said “efficient, effective and effortless.” Downrigging requires a hefty upfront investment in a boat, motor, downriggers, sonar and GPS, not to mention specialized rods and reels. Ditto the paraphernalia for lead core and wire line. On the flipside, you can vertical jig for lake trout with your favourite bass and walleye tackle, and it doesn’t matter what you fish from: canoe, kayak, car topper, bass boat or family runabout.

So, do I have downriggers on my boat? You bet. And I’d never give up my line-counting wire and lead-core reels. But many—dare I say most—summer days I can catch as many or more lake trout simply jigging a four-inch white tube jig, soft-plastic swimbait or lipless crankbait on my bass and walleye rods. And you can, too.

Where to Fish: Vertical jigging is perfectly suited to catching lake trout in the summer because the fish concentrate in and around well-defined locations that are easy to find—if you know what to look for. Start by identifying any bottom structure that’s solid, firm and different from its surroundings, such as long, protruding underwater points, boulder-strewn reefs, sunken shoals and isolated rock piles.

Next, add in a good helping of confined open space. It may sound contradictory, but “confined open space” is how I describe the main lake area immediately adjacent to the structure—its zone of influence, you might say. Essentially, the structure serves as the rendezvous point for the lake trout that cruise the area, especially the ones suspended off the edges, in the confined open water.

After finding suitable bottom structure with confined open space, most anglers stop searching and start fishing. But you can take your detective work one step further and find the sweet spots on the spot—pinch points. These are the canyons, valleys, gullies, box draws and ambush sites that lake trout use to corral, confuse and consume baitfish.

Think of the classic Hollywood western, with cowboys chasing their foes into the dead end of a high-walled canyon, where there’s no chance of escape. That’s precisely how lake trout use structure, confined open space and pinch points in Canadian Shield lakes to funnel, herd and corral schools of pelagic, open-water roaming ciscoes, smelt and shiners (see “Laker magnet: The pinch point”).

After trapping their prey, the lake trout feed on the confused baitfish, often creating feeding frenzies. And that’s one of the reasons why I call them pinch points—they’re so good, when you find them and start fishing, you have to pinch yourself to make sure it’s not a dream.

What to Fish: Once you know where to find open-water lake trout, catching them is a piece of cake. It’s often no more difficult than dropping a tube jig, swimbait, grub or lipless crankbait over the side of the boat. These are the very same lures you would use for lakers in the winter or to catch walleye, bass and northern pike in the summer. If you want to pare back your tackle selection to the absolute bare minimum,

in fact, you could do worse than fishing the entire season with a four-inch white, scented Berkley Power, Mr. Twister Exude or Trigger X tube over
a ¹/₄- to ³/₈-ounce cylindrical lead head.

]]> http://outdoorcanada.ca/20255/fishing/tips-fishing/time-to-stop-trolling/feed 0 http://outdoorcanada.ca/20308/fishing/tips-fishing/tips-for-tackling-catfish http://outdoorcanada.ca/20308/fishing/tips-fishing/tips-for-tackling-catfish#comments Thu, 03 May 2012 21:08:45 +0000 Jonathan Lepera http://outdoorcanada.ca/?p=20308 When I caught my first hefty channel cat, it felt as though I’d hooked onto a speeding transport truck. A big girl pushing 18 pounds, she actually towed our anchored 18-foot Lund a short distance along Ontario’s Grand River. Not that I should have been surprised.

These are decidedly not dumb, sluggish bottom-feeders. Rather, they’re a highly intelligent fish whose apparent goal in life is to punish anglers daring enough to hook them. And that’s exactly why I can’t wait to tackle into my first catfish of the season once the ice leaves my favourite catting holes. Here’s how you can get in on the action, too.

Timing: Catfish are creatures of habit. Once the ice comes off and spring arrives, they’ll be looking to feed on minnows and suckers, and searching for prime spawning areas. Anne Yagi, a biologist with Ontario’s Ministry of Natural Resources, explains that the fish’s appetite increases as temperatures rise from winter lows to summer peaks. And depending on their winter habitat, they may move from large waterbodies into rivers and estuaries to spawn.

While opinions vary on the best time of day to fish for cats, I’ve had the most success in the two hours after the sun reaches its highest point in the sky. I’ve had mornings with nothing but nibbles and dropped bites, but once the sun rose high, the fish would literally rip the fishing rod from my hand. As famed U.S. catfish angler Tim Scott observes, cats feed most aggressively around noon, when the sun has heated the water and prompted them to become more active.

Location: So, where do you find the cats? Using your electronics, search out hard bottoms laden with chunks of rock, especially areas adjacent to depressions or holes. Using the side-scanning feature on many of today’s sonar units, anglers can get a 3-D perspective of everything beneath the water. Side-scanning also enables you to survey a wide swath of the bottom without driving over fish. As well, you can zoom in on specific pieces of structure. On my waters, I start looking in 25 feet of water and work my way back toward 18 feet—the magic usually happens within this range.

If you don’t have side-scanning, slowly run S-patterns through key areas so you can view the bottom contours on your sonar from a variety of angles. This helps identify key catfish-holding spots. According to Scott, cats feed in the area just above a depression, not in the hole itself. And big cats are often found solo. They’re easy to identify, too, because they appear as large arches on the screen. If the fish become inactive, search outside the key area you’ve been targeting; they may have simply repositioned themselves.

Although structure is a big piece of the puzzle when hunting for early-spring cats, nothing is more important than finding current that flows through the structure. Manitoba catfish guide and outfitter Donovan Pearase agrees that current is king. “How they set up and feed all relates to the current,” he says. “Find the current edge—the seam between fast and slow water—and you will find the cats.”

]]> http://outdoorcanada.ca/20308/fishing/tips-fishing/tips-for-tackling-catfish/feed 0 http://outdoorcanada.ca/20314/fishing/tips-fishing/2012-hotspots http://outdoorcanada.ca/20314/fishing/tips-fishing/2012-hotspots#comments Thu, 03 May 2012 17:19:01 +0000 Scott Gardner http://outdoorcanada.ca/?p=20314 We’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again (and again): There’s no better place on earth to go fishing than this vast, beautiful, diverse land of ours. And we now have numerical proof to back up the claim—1,328 hot spots from every province and territory, to be specific. That’s how many great destinations our various panels of experts have recommended over the years, complete with tips for catching more than 60 different species of fish.

But what are the best of the best, the angling must-visits that have made the most repeat appearances in our Fishing issue’s annual tally? From the Atlantic to the Pacific to the Far North, here they are—40 of Canada’s all-time favourite hot spots (and hot fish).

A tube fly? To the uninitiated, “tube fly” is a generic term for patterns tied on a cylinder, rather than on a hook. The leader is then passed through the dressed cylinder and attached to the hook, which remains separate from the tube itself (see “Tube tying”). Why include this unconventional style in your arsenal of flies? Here are just some of the major advantages.

Effectiveness: Long-shank hooks can lever themselves loose during an extended battle, but tubes use short-shank hooks. Plus, the tube rides up the leader after a hook-up, which also helps keep a good grip on your catch. Indeed, I’ve had fewer lightly hooked fish when using tubes. The pattern is also useful on waters where it’s mandatory to use barbless hooks, particularly when fishing for species that go airborne—the short-shank hooks are much less likely to be airmailed back to the angler.

Versatility: You can make a half-inch fly by cutting a longer tube or a 10-inch fly by stringing several tubes together—there’s no need to mess with tandems. Some anglers think tube patterns must be tied in the round, but this is false. Standard patterns are easily tied and, with the hook and wing providing stability, orient themselves properly. And since the hook remains detached from the tube, you can easily switch it out for either barbed or barbless options, or a different size altogether.

Castability: Tubes flies are light, which makes them easier to cast than flies on large hooks—and no more nasty raps on the back of the head when a gust knocks down a backcast. They’re also effective when it’s essential to get a large fly down deep with full-sinking or sink-tip lines. While large hooks can catch the bottom, a plastic-tube/small-hook combo rides higher and is less likely to snag. With tubes, I’ve contributed considerably fewer flies to the bottom’s decor.

Convenience: These flies are easy to store. Although you can buy special tube-fly boxes, a simple plastic box with divided compartments is all you need. You can even carry them in your shirt pocket—say goodbye to barbless flies falling out of a fly-patch. Just toss the wet flies, without their hooks, into your box and open the lid at the end of the day to let them dry out. So much for rusty hooks, too.

Affordability: Some of the plastic tubes I use cost less than a penny each. And you only need a few hooks for thousands of flies. Plus, an array of hook styles can be replaced by a smaller variety of styles in just a few sizes. Now that’s economy.

1. Not treating fish as wild animals

From a fish’s perspective, you are the predator and it is the prey. And since fear always trumps hunger, a fish will consider it a life-threatening situation if you suddenly appear on the scene. This explains the one rule of angling that can never be broken: If you scare fish, you won’t catch fish. So, don’t barge into their world with noise and commotion. Instead, approach the water slowly and quietly, doing everything you can to avoid alerting the fish to your presence. On moving water, this might mean approaching from downstream to stay behind the fish, out of their sight. On still water, it often means shutting off the motor early and rowing or paddling quietly into position before casting.

2. Not using the proper presentation

Many anglers just grab a lure or fly that appeals to them, or one that worked the last time they were out, and start randomly firing it into the water. This is what makes fishing a hope-for-the-best proposition for so many people. But you can vastly improve your chances for success by first gathering some general information about your quarry’s habits and habitat, and supplementing it with specifics on what the fish are likely to be feeding on when you’ll be on the water. By consulting magazines, books, DVDs, friends, fishing shops and the Internet, you can then make an informed decision about what fly, lure or bait to use, and where to use it.

3. Not fishing deep enough

If the fish are feeding on the surface, you’ll know it by the disturbances they make. But if they’re not up top, it’s a safe bet they’re on the bottom. A general rule in fishing is to make it easy for the fish to eat what you’re offering, so if the fish are deep, do what you must to get your fly, lure or bait down into their dining room. You may need to use a heavier lure, or add weight to your leader if you’re fly fishing. Whatever the case, you’ll have far more success putting your offering right in front of the fish, rather than expecting them to swim 10 or 20 feet up the water column to take it.

4. Not paying attention to conditions

Water levels and clarity play a large role in determining where fish will be found and when they will feed. And because fish are cold-blooded, water temperature is the one factor that trumps nearly all others—fish feed very little if the water temperature is significantly above or below their happy zone. The weather also affects the behaviour of fish, as well as their prey. For example, certain aquatic creatures that fish eat are more active and available on cloudy days than on sunny ones. Remember, though, that weather and water conditions affect different species of fish in different ways, and a little research into this will pay dividends.

5. Not switching things up

The worst thing an angler can do is stay in one spot for hours and repeat a method that’s simply not producing fish. If what you’re doing isn’t working, change something. Try switching lures or flies, or varying your retrieve or the depth you’re fishing at. You can even change your tactics altogether and move to a different part of the lake or stream. If the fish are going to respond to what you’re offering—and how—they’ll usually do so within your first few casts, or not at all. Long-term repetition rarely changes their minds. Trying something new, however, just might.

Here is what Jason wrote: “My friends and I brought a couple lake trout home and while cleaning one of the fish I found a small white growth embedded in the meat.  It was pure white, shaped like a jellybean, and was about the size of the fingernail on my pinkie finger.  I removed the growth, squeezed it and it did not pop – it was firm.

“Have you ever heard of this type of growth before, or have you heard of any instances where lake trout are not safe to eat?  Do you think it would be best to discard the meat, or if I cook it thoroughly will it be safe to eat?  Any insight would be greatly appreciated.”

Well, Jason, unbeknownst to most anglers, is the fact that fish are susceptible to any number of parasites, grubs, bacteria, viruses, growths and diseases. The good news is that when we’re cleaning fish and see one of these things we tend to cut it out.  And even if we miss a couple during the filleting process, as we often do, few are harmful to humans.  Especially, if you freeze the fish and / or thoroughly cook it.  Indeed, this is the reason most Federal and Provincial Health Codes require that any fish that is to be served uncooked, as sushi in a restuarant, must first be frozen at a very cold temperature for a set period of time.

While it is only a guess, it’s likely that what you saw was the common tapeworm called Triaenophorus crassus.  The life cycle of this parasite is fascinating because the tapeworm matures only inside northern pike. The life cycle goes something like this.

When a mature worm lays its eggs inside a pike’s intestine, they are excreted into the water. This usually happens in the spring when the pike are spawning, as happened over the last few weeks, depending on where you live in Canada.

Obviously a tapeworm’s eggs are much too small for us to see with the naked eye.  But they’re not too small to escape detection by the trillions of microscopic animals (zooplankton) that live in the water.  When a zooplankton eats a tapeworm egg it becomes infected.  (By the way, the tapeworm egg has to be eaten within 48 hours or it dies.)

Once inside the zooplankton, however, the egg transforms itself, changes its shape and grows for about two weeks. Now, as you probably know, zooplankton are a favorite food of many smaller fish species.  Especially ciscoes.  But, whitefish and lake trout also eat them, especially younger trout.

When a fish eats an infected zooplankton, the gastric juices inside the fish’s stomach free the tapeworm embryo.  It, then, punctures a tiny hole in wall of the stomach and penetrates the flesh.  When it does this, however, the fish’s response system encapsulates the worm, almost like a cocoon, and forms a cyst.

By the way, the worm, or Plerocercoid larvae as it is called, can live in the host ciscoe, whitefish or trout for many years.  But they can only fully mature and develop eggs inside a northern pike, which is what happens when a pike eats an infected ciscoe, whitefish or trout.  The mature larvae attach themselves to the wall of the pike’s intestine and live off the digested food of the pike. The larvae finish maturing over a period of almost a year.  Then they develop and lay their eggs and the cycle starts all over again.

Ciscoes, which lake trout and pike devour, often host tapeworm larvae.

As I mentioned, if an infected ciscoe, whitefish or lake trout isn’t eaten by a pike the larvae can remain in the flesh for five or six years.  Eventually it will die, however, and when that happens the tapeworm is absorbed into the flesh and the wound heals.  What you saw was likely the scar tissue.  But, as I mentioned, if you removed it during the filleting process, or prior to cooking the fish, you shouldn’t have any worries.

Bon appetit!

To consistently catch trout on dry flies, you need to be ready to imitate practically everything they eat off the surface: caddisflies, stoneflies, chironomids, the most common terrestrials and the mayfly’s emerger, dun and spinner stages. You also need to consider the water itself. A fly that floats well in rapids or pocket water, for example, might prove overdressed for a spring creek. This may sound as if you need to carry a lot of flies, but you can keep it simple by narrowing down your choices to the following 10 patterns, each designed to fill a role in your dry-fly arsenal. Some are specialists, while others have many uses, but they all share one key feature: adaptability. By following the basic designs of these flies, and tweaking the sizes and colours to match local insects, you can raise brookies, browns, ’bows and more from Newfoundland to B.C. to Nunavut.

The following fly recipes include typical fly-tying materials, but not necessarily those appearing in the accompanying photos of completed flies (tied by Tim Hiltz and Paul Marriner). When tying these flies, only use dry-fly-quality cock hackle, except where noted.