What should you do in preparation for a duck trip? Take it from Ralphy!

I have had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a duck hunter named Ralphy. Two weeks after our Kansas trip, Ralphy was not to be out done. He rounded up his posse and decided to head to Missouri. There are several hot spots in the great state of Missouri, not the least of which includes the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers. Grand Pass is a famous wildlife area and one of their target locations.

Ralphy decided he was going, so he got his truck tuned up two days before their scheduled departure. It wasn't running right. The truck was once a nice dual cab Ford 250 diesel. Now its a 2005 truck he uses to plow snow and spread salt in the winter. Mike and Ralphy were riding back from the Ford garage, and Mike noticed that the front end was shaking pretty badly. Mike suggested that the truck, although fairly reliable, was rusted out and did have 260,000 miles on it. Ralphy admitted he didn't know when he had the front end aligned and agreed to let Mike pull his boat. The other Mike on the trip planned tp pull his boat and followed them.

The next day Ralphy showed up in Mike's driveway pulling his boat loaded down with decoys and equipment to the point that it would remind one of a scene out of the "Beverly Hillbilly's". Mike with a look of astonishment said, "Well it looks like you got everything!". Ralphy proudly said, "Yep! I even dug around in my garage and found some pintail decoys." "How did you have time to put lines on them?", the obvious question. Ralphy, "I didn't. I just threw some weights in the bag and brought a roll of kite string that I found in my basement." Mike was ignoring that comment as he looked over the boat and trailer. He didn't remember Ralphy's trailer being so rusted out. Oh well, it was only 5 years old and Ohio road salt is hard on steel trailers.

Well the party met at Mikes and headed down the road. The guys were talking about how inexpensive their licenses were for being out of state. Ralphy announced that he hadn't done that yet so they would have to wait for him to stop in town and pick up a license. However, he did buy a new Mossberg 835 for the trip. "Oh? How does it shoot?", came a question from the back seat. "Oh, I haven't shot it yet!" The group began to see a trend developing about Ralphy's lack of preparation.

The anticipation of how well they would do on their hunt began to build only two hours down the road when suddenly a trailer tire blew out. So Mike pulled off the road, looked it over and said, "Hey Ralphy, where is your spare tire?" "Oh, I usually don't carry one. That is a wasted expense. We can go to a Walmart and buy a new one." So they did. They unhitched the boat, went to a local Walmart and bought s new tire. They were back on the road in just one hour.

The group had forgotten their misfortune when suddenly the trailer went crazy again. Only two hours after the blown tire, a bearing goes out on the trailer. The guys unhitched the boat and headed to a nearby Walmart. On the way, the other Mike said, "When was the last time you changed the bearings in your trailer?" I don't know, was the answer they all was feared, and heard. As it turned out, the Walmart had bearings! However, when they returned to the boat, they discovered that the only bearings they had were the wrong size. Well the group decided to sleep in the car and wait until the Advanced Auto opened in the morning. The other Mike decided to drive on. Bright and early at 7:00 AM the store opened, Ralphy bought some bearings, and by 8:00 the trip was underway!

Believe it or not, the group traveled one hour down the road and the other tire blew out! By this time the duck posse was ready to become a lynch mob! Luckily, just on the other side of Indianapolis there was another Walmart and they were able to replace the tire. You are not going to believe this, but the same tire they just replaced blew out 30 minutes down the road! "What the heck is going on!", Ralphy was beside himself. As it turns out, the fender well was coming loose from the frame and it rubbed the tire clear through! The boys now had to back track to the same Walmart and buy another tire. Ralphy had a plan. To prevent the tire from rubbing on the wheel well, he bought a smaller tire for that side! As Ralphy was changing the tire, again, Mike pointed out, "This tire probably couldn't rub on the wheel well unless it was wobbling. Did you replace the bearings on this side when you replaced the other ones?" "No, I didn't want to replace good bearings. I only bought bearings for one wheel."

In disbelief, the group headed down the road, again! They left home 24 hours ago, and essentially were 6 hours from home. They had a pretty good run going as they made it all the way to St Louis before the other bearings went out. They were able to get bearings and replace them without too much loss of time. When they finally reached their destination they were worn out. They caught up with Mike and spent the night in a motel.

The next day Mike had a spot picked out to hunt, so off they went for the boat ramp. I don't know what they were thinking, but after all that had transpired, I would be wondering what could go wrong next?! They backed Ralphy's boat down into the water, and what do you think happened? You guessed it! It wouldn't start! The bottom line is he had been having trouble with it so he had a friend of a friend look it three days before they left. He thought it was fixed. Instead of fixed, he had to have Mike tow him everywhere he went.

The good news is the six guys did shoot 41 ducks in three days. They did have fum and they had some success. Let's face it, breakdowns do happen. I have been broken down on the side of the road towing a boat before. It is no fun! I also have had boat motor trouble before, more than once, and it is not recommended! Some things, however, are preventable. Regular maintenance is important, and checking tires, bearings, motor efficiency, decoys, weapons and automobile maintenance before a trip is critical to having an enjoyable time. You can get things repaired that break down on the road, but as the Scout Motto says, ""Be Prepared"! It makes a trip so much more enjoyable and relaxing.

Kansas, My Return to the Central Flyway!

It was our first day in Kansas. We really did not have a clue where to hunt. There was so much good looking duck habitat that we were awe struck! It became immediately obvious that a scouting trip was necessary. So we headed out with a few hours of daylight left. We barely made our way 300 yards when we flushed a flock of more than 100 big ducks! "Looks like a good spot to me!" I shouted. We set up there and threw out a couple dozen fakes. Thirty minutes later we watched a big flock of teal land about a quarter mile away. I mumbled in astonishment, "We are going to need more decoys." We had a good evening, but the next day we were prepared!

Our first evening hunt

Knowing that we were hunting public water, we were up long before sunrise. We needed to get to that spot! We beat everyone to the water that morning. We made our way in the dark to "our spot". We set out two spreads of decoys, thirty pintails just to the west of us, and thirty mallards to the east of us with a hole in the middle as a landing zone. We also set up seven mojos. We were rewarded early and often. By eight o'clock we watched several flocks of redheads land in out dekes and fly off. We could not shoot any more of the beautiful divers. We saw large flocks that morning. In an hour and a half we were two ducks short of our three man limit. With a high wind warning in effect, we opted to avoid the coming 55 mile per hour winds and start picking up! What a day! In addition to the redheads, we shot widgeons, gadwalls, scaup, green wing teal, and a canvasback. Add the mallards from our first evening hunt and we harvested seven species! Not a bad start. We assumed that the forecast kept the other hunters home, and that is why we did not see anyone. 

The next day it was pintails! We had multiple big flocks of sprigs swooping in. It was quite a spectacle for some boys from Ohio! We see a few pins and usually shoot one or two, but we never see big flocks like that. Day two also brought mallards, ring necks, goldeneye, a few shovelers and a ruddy duck. We were shocked that we still did not see any other hunters! In Ohio, if you are shooting ducks, you get company and plenty of it! We limited, but not until 10:00. When we got to the ramp we met a local guy and his sons. He was belly aching about how there were no birds yet! They shot 14 ducks and were complaining! They asked where we were from. We said that we made the trip from Ohio. He looked at us in disbelief, "Don't you have ducks in Ohio? What are you guys doing all the way out here!" We explained that we had a terrible first season and our season wasn't open right then anyway.

A couple bull pins and a nice baldpate

On day three there were trucks and trucks with boat trailers in the parking areas. Oh no! We thought! Here come the hoards! We knew it was only a matter of time. Oh well, maybe no one took our spot. We did hear some shots that day, but we could see no one. There was no interference, nobody shooting when ducks were cupped up working our blocks. It was great! There is so much room it is unbelievable! This day brought Spoonies! Hundreds of them! My two companions each shot very nicely plumed drakes, both were stuffed.

At the risk of sounding redundant, just let me say that we did well every day. We collected 13 species of ducks. We hunted rivers, fields, lakes, swamps and all were productive!

Our last day in Kansas

Our merry band of waterfowlers managed to collect 95 ducks, 3 mergansers and a goose in 5 and a half days. We also managed to wear out two Labrador Retrievers.

Gunner (top) and his dad

Not too shabby! The Central Flyway comes through again! I would like to express a special thank you to all the Kansas residents we met. They were kind, friendly and helpful. One gentleman even shared with us the location of his favorite spot. Now that is friendly! To all of you who are unfamiliar with Kansas, I highly recommend Cheyenne Bottoms Wildlife Area! It's the bomb!

The Texas Duck Circus

My buddy Greg was on his way out the door to go see a movie when he glanced at the calendar. Oh my! Bill's plane is landing today, as in right now!" he yelled. Out the door he went and off the airport. I gathered my gun case and luggage from the baggage claim area and headed outside. I was there for only seconds when my friend pulled up and said, "Ready to go?" Totally in the dark about how close I came to spending hours at the airport, I jumped in and said, "Now that's service!"

We had just enough time that evening to make the trip from San Antonio to Three Rivers, Texas. We gathered our tools of the trade, hooked up the boat and made the 80 mile excursion to Choke Canyon Resevoir. We only had about an hour and a half to hunt. I asked Greg if he thought we had enough time. He was rather cocky in his response that we had more than enough! He was right. It was unreal. We had our limit in 45 minutes! This included the circus of the revolving ducks!

At one point we were shooting ducks so fast that Greg's yellow lab, Gator, had a difficult time keeping up with the retrieves! Greg made the comment that we should be over half way to our limit. I reached down to grab more shells just in time to see Gator drop a gadwall in the bottom of the boat. Gator then ran out the back of the 17 foot jon boat and jumped in after another bird. At the same time the feathered Houdini, with a broken wing, ran out the front of the boat! I quickly surveyed the duck pile, and to my surprise only found five ducks! I loaded my gun in time to finish off the escapee! Gator was able to retrieve two other "would be" escape artists. What a circus! I learned to pay closer attention after that! After all, Gator was busy enough retrieving our birds without having to do it twice! He was happy as could be. He loved every second of it as any good retriever would!

We added five different species to the duck pile that evening. I was impressed, but more impressed as we harvested 11 species total in three days! That just does not happen in Ohio!

I made four trips to Texas to hunt ducks and was never disappointed! I brought back a beautifully plumed blue wing teal that we will never see in an Ohio autumn. The taxidermist also mounted a Ross's goose, and the best gadwall drake that I have ever seen! We shot our limit of ducks each day the first three years. The last trip was slower, but the last day we were there, the flights arrived. We harvested a three man limit in two and a half hours. I vowed that I would return to the Central Flyway, if not to Texas!

A Fantastic Hunt, but Nearly Our Last!

I remember as a young man listening to the more mature hunters talk about duck hunts of old. It was awesome. As the grizzled hunter would stare off into space as if in a trance, I wondered if he was remembering things the way they were or the way he wished they were. Of course I will never know, but it really did not matter. It was the passion that shined through the story and clung to the tattered hunting coat and brown duck cap that made the tale come alive.

I am not yet collecting social security, but I have had more seasons in the old duck boat than I have left on this earth. However, I have had some fantastic hunts, and I have had some hair raising experiences. On one particular day, my duck partners and I had both.

It was late December on a bitter cold morning and I was home from school on Christmas break. I was drinking hot chocolate with my brother while trying to find something good on TV. I remember thinking, wow it looks cold and nasty out there, I am glad to be inside! Just then, the phone rang. It was my college roommate, Larry. He got right to the point, “Dad is down at the garage (by the lake). He said it sounds like World War III out at the break wall! They must be tearing ‘em up! Get your butt up here we are going out!” (He was referring to the break wall at Edgewater Park, Cleveland.) “This late? We won’t get out until 1:00 and it gets dark at 5:00!” “Dad said it won’t matter! You comin’ or what?” was the last thing he said. I told him I’d be there in 1 hour and 15 minutes. Having been a Boy Scout comes in handy! I had all of my gear packed and waiting in the basement. I asked my brother if he could handle being alone by himself. He his reply was something about how many cookies and how much pop was on hand. I gave him my reply as I ran out the door with two bags and my brand new model 1100 Remington.

The drive seemed like it took forever! “Tearin’ ‘em up”, he said, “World War III”. I tried not to get too excited because we have all experienced the anticipated slaughter which became an attack on all the sandwiches and snacks we brought. 

Larry and his Dad were pulling the boat out of the garage using a company dump truck when I pulled in. The garage was on the end of an access or canal that was connected to the Cuyahoga River.  From the river, it was a short run to the lake.

“I have to change yet!” I yelled as I got out of the car. “Get movin’ man. We‘ve got ducks to kill!” Larry’s dad said with a chuckle. I made a bee line for the door. I could not believe how much more snow they had than we did in North Canton. It was cold, but at least there was a south wind. Those cold north winds can make your bones shiver! I wasted no time getting my long johns and wool socks on in  preparation for the frigid winter air on Lake Erie. It was cold enough that I couldn’t smell the pungent odor of the Cuyahoga River. That’s odd, I thought. When I got up beside my partners in crime, they were frantically putting blue bill (scaup) decoys in the boat and untangling lines. Al, Larry’s dad, was barking out orders, “Bill get over here and help me with this line. Larry, get that extra bag of shotgun shells out of my truck, and then get the extra gas can out of the garage.” Al, had just filled the tank for the small outboard. We bought that boat from some guy who needed the money. It was a 16’ aluminum boat with a covered bow and a wind shield. We felt better about having a deeper boat for Lake Erie, and retiring the 14 footer. It can get rough quickly, even inside the break wall. Larry joined us as we got the anchor and lines ready for the deep water rig. We used one large boat anchor and ran two 15 decoy lines off of a two foot steel spreader to create a “V” shaped decoy spread. We placed our singles at the point of the “V”. Al handed Larry a sledge hammer and told him to ride on the bow. I found out why I could not smell the water, it was frozen! Larry pounded away as we carefully motored out the slip. I looked up to see that the river was frozen as well. My heart sank, but SUDDENLY, as if by a miracle, a tug boat punched its way through the ice in front of us! The two men in the back were waving for us to follow them! We let out a big cheer and away we went! The tug boat blasted its way through the ice ahead of us. What luck….or providence!

The tug turned right and we saw ice everywhere! The lake was all frozen inside the wall. Outside the wall it was frozen for a half of a mile. The only open water was where the barges passed through the opening in the break wall. Because we had a south wind, the ice flows were moving out slowly toward the main lake. I could see that there was no way to sit on the wall itself. Al informed us that the plan would be to put the decoy spread in the only open water and run the boat into the ice to secure it in place. We went to work immediately setting the lines. We had worked this rig enough that we were pretty good at it. I took my glove off for an instant, bad idea! My fingers went numb, glove back on. As we finished our spread I looked up and saw the biggest swarm of ducks that I had ever seen, all scaup. They were coming in like a hurricane as Al drove the boat into the ice. Larry and I already had our guns loaded. The eldest of our crew advised, “Pick out ONE bird! Don’t shoot into the flock!” I picked out a bird and squeezed the trigger. To my amazement two birds fell! They were so thick that I hit two with one shot! However, to my dismay, my 1100 froze. I had a single shot. Larry had an advantage over us with his Browning double barrel. Two shots from him and two birds down. Five birds on the water total. Another flock descended. I missed, Larry dropped one at twenty yards and now Al’s gun was a single shot. Two more birds lay in the water. I worked in vain to get my semi auto to work properly. I lined up seven shells on the seat in front of me, planning to load faster. I looked up in time to see a “small” flock of 30 birds cupped into the wind. Two rapid fire blasts immediately sounded as two birds joined the dekes in the ice cold water of Lake Erie. I shouldered my gun and crumbled one at ten yards! “Yeah!” Al yelled! I reached down to grab a shell, but there were only five. I scooped up one only to see my roommate help himself to two of the remaining four shells. “Hey!” I yelled, “Slow down. You’re closing in on your limit!” I put four more shells out for “us”. Suddenly I feel a burning on my leg. I looked down and there was gasoline spraying out of the fuel line all over my pant leg. I yelled, “We have a leak in the fuel line. It squirted gas all over my leg. What do I do?” Al’s reply seemed unconcerned, “Wrap something around it, and move your leg!” “Bang”, he shot another duck. He turned to Larry and said, where is that other bag of shells that I told you to put in the boat?” Larry looked stunned, “Oops!” I quickly grabbed the five remaining shells off the seat. “I don’t believe it!” Larry looked at me in disgust. Al and I quickly finished our limits while Larry watched. He already had his limit. It was perfect timing. I wrapped a rag around the fuel line, which slowed down the leak.

After the high fives went around the boat, we went out to retrieve and count our birds. Three limits in less than thirty minutes! Unreal! As we were scooping up ducks we failed to notice the wind shift. It switched from south to north. The shift pushed an ice flow into our spread, and made an awful mess of our lines. Then it happened, the motor sputtered and stopped. Al turned the crank, “We must be out of gas. Larry, where is that gas can I told you to put in the boat?” “What gas can?” my shell stealing friend replied. He followed that up with, “Well at least the wind will blow us in instead of out.” His dad said, “Oh man. We have to hurry.” I did not see the urgency right away, but eventually I saw what Al knew was coming. The ice flows were coming, and they blocked our path to shore.

Without panic, Al picked up a paddle and two poles from the bottom of the boat, and explained the plan. “We have to pole our way between the ice flows and hope that none of them get under the boat and tip us over.” He didn’t have to say it. We knew that if the boat tipped over, we were goners! So we poled ice flows for five hours! Three times ice flows got under the boat and each time we dodged the bullet. Finally, we made our way to the pier. There was a rail from an abandoned railway exposed above the rocks. I reached up and pulled myself up like I weighed two pounds. Larry and I were never so glad to stand on dry ground! We hiked backed to the garage, called Larry’s mother, and grabbed that gas can Larry was supposed to get ten hours ago!  It was a fantastic hunt, but it could have been our last!

The Most Versatile Bird Dog

We pulled into the parking lot and I could hear the gravel under the tires as we made our way to the lodge. The noise of the gravel was quickly drowned out from the excitement of the 106 pound yellow lab anxiously anticipating a chance to stalk a cock bird. The cold December air immediately hit my face as I stepped out of the warm Ford Expedition. My friend and I both reached for our heavy orange hunting coats on the back seat to make the walk to the lodge door. The freshly fallen snow was barely stomped off of my hunting boots when the aroma of freshly brewed coffee activated the olfactory senses. The next sent was that of pine logs that the proprietor, Bill, was feeding the wood stove. Ah…what a moment, the warmth from the fire, coffee, and the mystique of the lodge was worth the trip by itself. The lodge is a perfectly decorated cabin with multiple duck mounts, old duck decoys and seven monster bucks. Oh, we can’t forget the pheasant mount! As you walk in you see the beautifully finished wooden table with every magazine you would want to read about all shooting and hunting topics. There is a refrigerator by the front counter stocked with soft drinks, water bottles and candy bars. Next to that is the all-important room of the porcelain receptacle.   There always seems to be a least one small group of hunters drinking coffee and laughing about the ineptitude of their shooting prowess! I could write about this place for pages, and someday I may, but not today. We signed in, received our field assignment and headed out to gather our guns, ammo and Gunner.

The fresh snow was the reason we called Bill’s establishment that day. New snow makes the birds hold their position better for the dog. If we get a runner or a cripple, we can see where he is headed is the white powder.. My lab wasted no time working that field. He was back and forth on the prowl. No commands were necessary. He know why we were there. He worked in front of us about 20 to 25 yards. His walk was more of a bounce with a quick trotting pace. He lifted his head and sniffed the air occasionally then back to the snow, head working side to side. Suddenly, his head jerked to the left and his entire body fell in line! His tail went up, neck stretched out and he froze like a statue! “Point”, I yelled over to my companion and I let him get into position. Gunner held point as I walked into the brush. A large rooster erupted into the air with a cackle! One thunderous response from my orange clad hunting partner, and Gunner made his first retrieve of the day.

We released 8 birds that afternoon, shot 9 and had 11 flushes. Gunner worked the field magnificently. The birds held for him and yes he held point! He is a “pointing lab”. I am told that some labs have a  genetic predisposition for pointing. I am not here to argue that point (no pun intended), but I know his father and grandfather do not point. I can tell you that as a 10 month old pup, I took Gunner pheasant hunting with my friend’s English Setter. The setter was a seasoned pheasant dog. We took the dogs on two public land hunts. Both times Gunner followed the setter for 4 hours, when Apollo would go “on point”, Gunner would stop and sniff what was ahead. The bird would flush, we shoot it, and Gunner would retrieve it. This went on for two state land hunts and one pheasant farm hunt.  We thought we had a good team. Apollo pointed and Gunner fetched, for some reason, Apollo would not fetch. The fourth time out I got the surprise of my life. Gunner went on point! He has been pointing ever since. The second remarkable thing was that by the end of the pheasant farm season, Apollo was fetching birds!

I have no idea if this was bred in him and Apollo just brought it out, or if Gunner just flat out learned it from Apollo. Furthermore, I don’t care! Two weeks before the pheasant hunt that I described in the opening paragraphs, we were on Buckeye Lake duck hunting. Gunner jumped in the water with skim ice on it and retrieved 5 ducks. I tried to keep him dried off, but he had icicles hanging from his vest and fur and he didn’t care. The next week we went goose hunting. We couldn’t find a good field so we walked out on the ice. I have a snow camouflage poncho that I use on Gunner. He loved it, and we appreciated the long retrieves across the slippery frozen lake water!

The bottom line is, I don’t know what else you could ask from a dog! I do not pretend to know what the best bird dog is for every hunter. But you better believe that the next Lab I get is going to be spending some quality time with a good pointer!

Toothy Critters from Lake St Clair! Musky or Pike?

My friend Doug, and I, headed to Lake St Clair last week on what we thought was a small mouth bass trip. We caught fish and had a great time. In spite our effort to target smallies, we caught quite a variety of fish! Much to my surprise we were blessed with quite a few bites and catches of the toothy variety! Three times our Lake Fork swim baits were chomped in two! Three other times the hook set was followed by our line going limp, bit through! Doug landed the first "razor mouth" on the first evening. We are not experts on the subject so upon returning to the motel room, we began our inquiries as to what this fish was, We asked several fisherman at the motel and I sent pictures to numerous fishing friends to seek assistance in identifying our mystery guest.

Doug and his first catch on Lake St Clair.

Most of the fisherman at the motel were small mouth enthusiasts like ourselves. One fellow had some experience in Canada with our long toothed buddies. Then, lo and behold, we found a crew who were Musky Hunters! They were most helpful. One hint they shared with us is to look at the pattern of coloration on the fish. If it is vertical, it is some kind of musky, if horizontal, it's a pike.

Example of the horizontal pattern on this pike I caught on LSC.

Note the vertical pattern on this "Barred Musky" that I landed.

I am told that Lake St Clair has all three major Musky varieties; Clear, Spotted and Barred. Another identification key is when looking at the posterior dorsal fin and tail (caudal) fins of a Musky, you will find that their outline comes to a point. On a Northern Pike the fins are rounded.  

Pike Tail

Musky Tail

When comparing the two pictures you can clearly see that the outline of the Musky tail comes to a more pronounced point than that of the Northern Pike. You can also see the vertical pattern of the coloration on the Barred Musky, and the horizontal pattern on the Northern Pike. This only works when there is a pattern present. I heard conflicting reports from people about the color of the fish aiding in identification. From what I have read and from limited personal experience, I have concluded that color only confuses the issue. Apparently, it can be helpful in a specific location, but a poor "rule of thumb". 

If you catch a fish with a vertical pattern and rounded fins, it is a Tiger Musky. This fish is a cross between a Musky and a Northern Pike. 

Just to make things interesting, Lake St Clair has Musky, Tiger Musky and Northern Pike. I do not know if the Tiger Muskies made their way up from Ohio, or if they were stocked in Michigan, or if they are a natural hybrid. Doug, a biology teacher, informed me that Walleye and Sauger will naturally cross and produce Saugeye. This natural cross is not common place but it does happen, Since it happens with Walleye and Sauger, why not Pike and Musky?. I have caught both Pike and Musky in the same weed bed.

I enjoyed the fishing trip and the identification research as well. Perhaps this will be helpful or interesting to a fellow fisherman. If you are so inclined as to consider Musky hunting, I am told that a fluorocarbon leader is a necessity. The line is tough enough that they don't bite through it and it is nearly invisible. The next time I go up, I will use a leader on all of my rods just in case. The steel leaders are a bass deterrent, not a good plan for a smally fisherman.

I highly recommend a trip to Lake St Clair. It is a beautiful lake, and full of fish!

NOT Ohio State Record Walleye!

This blog is primarily devoted to my first outdoor love, waterfowl hunting. However, I have posted information about pheasant and deer hunting; as well as bass, perch, and walleye fishing. So, I can not help but share this picture that my friend sent me! This is John Baker holding what he tells me is a new state record walleye. It is NOT, however. It was weighs 15 pounds! The big girl was caught on Lake Erie through the ice. I know that the current official record is 16.19 pounds.  Congratulations to John, a darn good duck hunter, a good guy, and obviously a great walleye fisherman!

THERE IS A REASON WHY THERE ARE PROCESSES THROUGH WHICH ONE SETS AN OFFICIAL RECORD. THIS FISH, THOUGH LARGE, IS NOT A RECORD. MY APOLOGIES FOR "JUMPING THE GUN" ON MY REPORT.