Despite all the trappings associated with muskie fishing, a good part of our success still hinges on being in the right place at the right time. Northwestern Ontario was the right place to be and the 1980s were the right time to be there. New frontiers in tackle were arriving at the same time that new muskie waters, harboring huge fish, were being discovered daily.
Legends in the sport—guys like Doug Johnson and **** Pearson—were camping out or sleeping in their boats, miles down remote lakes. Pearson wouldn’t stop casting long enough to eat a sandwich back then. His wife, Betsey, no slouch in her own right, would hold them for **** so he could grab bites between lobs.
And long before the rest of the muskie world even heard about places like Lac Seul and Wabigoon, the muskie brigade was using code words to refer to the secret waters as they chatted away on two-way radios while cruising down the highway.
I recall the mayhem, not only because I was caught up in it on the fishing side, but also because I was the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources District Manager in Kenora trying to deal with it. With a foot in both camps, I can offer principled perspective.
I count, among my major accomplishments, proposing and then writing up the legislative package to increase the muskie size-limit on Lake of the Woods from 40 to 48 inches. It was seen as a bold move at the time. The first 4-foot-minimum muskie size-limit imposed anywhere in the world. It worked better than anyone could have imagined.
Almost immediately, anglers reported seeing a startling increase in the average size of the fish they were catching. Even the technicians and biologists, checking the trap nets, were surprised at the number of muskies that were suddenly poking their noses on the 48-inch limit.
Elsewhere, in lakes where the fishing pressure had increased to extraordinary levels, the downward spiral was stopped. In Wabigoon, so many giant fish were killed in such a short period of time that famed muskie researcher, Dr. Ed Crossman, feared the 350 estimated surviving mature muskies might not find each other in the spring to spawn.
As things calmed down and high-quality muskie management became the norm rather than the exception, the minimum size-limit was raised even higher. Today, the region’s marquee muskie waters—places like Eagle Lake, Lac Seul, the Winnipeg River, and Lake of the Woods, containing genetically pure wild strains of native muskies—are protected by a 54-inch minimum size-limit. As a result, almost every fish under about 50 pounds is too small to keep—not that many muskie anglers today would kill one even that size.
So, what better time than now to consider the status of the region’s muskie populations? Has fishing pressure peaked? Has the catch of big muskies gone up or down or stayed about the same? Do the regulations need fine-tuning? Have tactics changes? And what does the future bode?
State of The Muskie Union
“Eagle is crawling with 48- to 50-inch muskies these days,” says Scott Jaeger, one of the hot young guides on the lake. “I’m seeing lots of big fish. I caught six over 50 inches, including two 53-inch muskies this past summer. People used to kill everything, especially the non-muskie anglers who would catch a fish accidentally. But the regulations now protect the population, they’re spawning successfully, and there’s a pile of 38- to 42-inch muskies coming into the fishery.”
Doug Johnson has been the dean of muskie anglers on Lake of the Woods for years and has long participated with the Ontario Ministry in a comprehensive muskie diary program. So, when Johnson quotes statistics, they’re more than anecdotal.
