I opened a paper a few weeks ago and found a special section – not on terrorism in the world or violence in the schools or ethnic cleansing (why do they call the murder of an entire group of people “ethnic cleansing”?…it sounds like Norwegian day at the Laundromat.) –   no, this special section of 18 pages was concerned with the opening day of walleye season in Minnesota.

          Now, I was born and raised in a town on the banks of a major reservoir.  Many of my younger days were spent hydrogenating various bait species, often in pursuit of the shore-elusive walleye.  Of course, at that age I didn’t care if I caught a walleye or a bluegill; I was a kid – I just wanted to catch a fish.  As I grew older I was distracted from one prime purpose to another.  Adolescent hormonal changes caused me to troll instead for the beach-bound-bikini-beauty.  I really should have stuck to walleye – I got more bites and they’re easier to get along with.  Young love (read:  “temporary mental lapse”) and then parental responsibilities caused me to further neglect my angling studies.  By the time I rejoined the monofilament community I was way behind.   I was forced to take remedial casting courses and was threatened by Game & Fish with winter school so as not to pose a danger to other anglers and fish of all species.  I finally realized I needed help while rigging up a trolling bottom-bouncer during an evening of shore fishing.  This history has helped me become an angler firmly rooted in below average ability.

          I think the walleye edition is printed for fishermen who are a bit more, um…zealous than I.  These extreme walleye fishermen have a complete science and specific branches of study built from the pastime of fishing for walleye.  There are different techniques of bait casting, jigging, trolling and set fishing.  In addition, there are infinite points involved in fishing structure, fishing different seasons, different times of day, various weather patterns, water types, astronomical effects, zodiac indications, fish mood swings and walleye hair color, to name but a few.  The calendar with the little shaded fish on the good fishing days just doesn’t cut it anymore so put away your bamboo pole and safety pin hook.

          Fish are more sophisticated today in response to the technological pressures placed on them by modern anglers.  A friend of mine who fishes, yet still has time for the hobby of diving (largely brought on by his poor boat operating abilities) became curious about a school of fish always found, by use of his depth finder, in the exact same spot.  While investigating he found a group of decoys floating suspended at a depth of 15 feet.  When he attempted to prove his find to other divers, he found that the fake fish had been moved in response to his discovery.  This is proof that fish are becoming more intelligent – sometimes more intelligent than the fishermen.  It also points to the problem of boat operation while consuming large amounts of alcohol, but we can touch on that at another time.

          This continuing leisure-time attention has spawned (pun intended) the rise of the sportsman’s sportsman, the tournament fisherman.  The average tournament fanatic is an advanced amateur, usually someone in a professional vocation that generates enough income to allow him to pay and exorbitant amount to do something he could do for free any other weekend.  Quite often these tournamenteers travel from tourney to tourney around their region, if not the country, trying to win back their gas money.  Michael Jordan could take up tournament fishing as an acceptable substitute to betting on his golf game.

          The professional, on the other hand, is not so much another breed as he is a mutant of the fanatic…probably an excellent salesman who came up with the idea – “Hey, wouldn’t it be great to do this all the time and get paid for it?”  Most professionals have become connected with some type of informational media, either radio or television broadcasts or magazine and newspaper articles.  Thanks to the single-mindedness of some of the fishermen mentioned earlier, sales of ad time associated with these productions can be quite lucrative.

          It is also this religious fervor toward walleye and other types of fishing that enables these people to produce one of the most powerful narcotics in America today – the television fishing show.  These programs are tied with barbiturates and telecasts of pro golf tournaments as the strongest sleep inducing items that can be taken non-intravenously.  An acquaintance of mine shows them to his elementary age daughters to get them to go to sleep…although care must be taken since an overdose can induce a coma-like state.

          From the cross-section of fishermen we have looked at today I feel it might be a good idea, maybe even necessary, to organize clinics for the treatment of compulsive fishing disorders.  It may be possible to arrange Fishermen’s’ Anonymous meetings on a weekly basis.  Whole support groups would be very helpful:

“Hello, Bob?  It’s Wally.  I hate to bother you at this hour but I…I really want to bait a leech on a lindy rig.”

“Okay Wally.  You make some coffee, alright?  And I’ll be there as soon as I can get dressed.  Just promise me you’ll stay away from your boat until I get there, alright?…alright?”

          This could be a business opportunity if I could get co-payment from the medical insurance community.  With a good salesman to sell the concept I think it could work.

          Maybe I’ll talk to a professional fisherman – I bet he could sell this idea.

A local geological landmark in my area is undergoing a name change.

Now keep in mind, when I say “in my area” I’m not talking about your average urban neighborhood.  What I’m referring to is, oh, maybe a 3 or 4 hundred mile radius.  These are local concerns.  Granted, there’s a lot of space in between but it makes perfect sense if you consider population density.  Let’s compare, for example, the Crown Heights area of New York City.  This is just one neighborhood within the city.  It covers an area of about 1.5 square miles, depending on the source you consult.  For this article, I checked with the lady at the library (SHHHHH!) and some guy hangin’ around outside the Home Depot.  Anyway, where I’m from, 1.5 square miles is about the same as the walk home from the nearest pub.  The walk to the pub is measured in linear miles but, depending on the time spent and the volume of intake, the trip home is better measured in area.  That said, this one neighborhood of NYC contains a population greater than all but the largest city of the state in which I live…and that covers a much larger area than 1.5 square miles.

Where were we?  Oh, yes.

At issue in the effort toward renaming the mountain in question, which could be considered a geological landmark since it’s just kind of sitting there in the way, is the offensive nature of the person for whom the mountain was previously named.  It seems that this person, a general from the Mexican-American War era, was also one of the early military leaders of the Indian wars, and was himself a great Indian fighter.  The real problem, particularly in today’s society, is that he was also a “not-so-great” Indian fighter, as in the fighting of women and children who weren’t fighting in the first place.  These members of early Native American society were not called “Braves.”  I guess, as mentioned, they were called “women and children” and those who aspired to become “Braves” never got the chance.

In an effort to neutralize the awkward discomfort of the modern “political” (which is actually “social”) incorrectness of the name, it was decided the name should change.  Naturally, the problem stems from associating the name with someone who is presently unpopular.  Heck, even some members of the guys’ family wants the name to change.  So…  What do we call it?

Naturally, if the mountain were named after a going business concern which had paid for naming privileges, it would make no difference if they were worthy of the honor.  The only honor necessary is that someone profited from the naming.  Expansion of this practice would make it much easier to decide what to call things.  Just name them after whichever entity ponies up the most bucks:  Exxon Bay, Coca-Cola Canyon, Lake BP or maybe Apple Forest (or possibly iForest).  We have a great deal of experience with that in our “neighborhood.”  Let’s just say that it’s not any easier to hide skeletons in a closet full of money than it is to hide them in a regular closet – it’s just that the skeletons in the money closet don’t look as dead… Or maybe they look like they died of natural causes.

Getting back to point, the problem with sponsored naming is that if sponsorship is dropped, the designation would change and we’d have to learn a lot of new names for things.  Finding your way would be difficult because you know your GPS is never going to be that up-to-date.  Stopping to ask directions wouldn’t likely be much better:

“Hey, my friend…can you direct me to Premier Pond?”

“Premier Pond?  What’s that?”

“You know; it’s that small lake, lots of maple trees and a nice dock off the north end.  They catch all the Perch there…”

“Oh, you mean Dyson Dam.  Used to be Ford Fjord.  They change that again?  Anyway, yeah.  You go west of town till you get to Victoria’s Secret Hill and then…”

“Till I get to WHERE?”

You can see the problems inherent with this type of system and why we have permanent (kind of) names for things.

We could take the randomness and favoritism aspects out of naming things by assigning them numbers or, more scientifically, referring to them by their GPS coordinates.  Aside from being very difficult to remember, the mystique, romanticism and downright usefulness of the name would be severely diminished if not entirely eradicated.  Lover’s Point loses a little in the translation to 43. 5581938 x 96. 7483478.  Actually, I just used that as an example.  Those coordinates will actually take you to the local Buffalo Wild Wings and while the consumption of alcohol may lead to Lover’s Point, the coordinates I have listed will not.  Nor will the eating of buffalo wings.  Just try to look amorous and generate sexual interest while eating sauce-saturated chicken wings with your fingers and you’ll see the source of that determination.

Back to the case in question, I believe one of the frontrunners in the name change is that of a Native American leader and Medicine Man.  I think this is an excellent choice for a name.  It maintains the local, historical reference, it’s familiar, since some other things in the area contain the name and, while we have a great deal of information about the person, we have no evidence that he did anything offensive, generally stupid or foolishly socially incorrect.  Thank God there was no iPhone video available at the time or we might still be looking for a name.  It’s difficult to put a bad spin on the act of taking extra buffalo skins for political favors if the only remaining evidence is a faded painting of the act on a rock somewhere.  That’s not photographic evidence, it’s just hearsay – kind of like this article.  In addition, anything he may or may not have done can be taken as a normal action or attitude in another culture or society – unlike this article.

Another suggestion is the name it was referred to by the Americans who were here before we got here.  I think changing the name to a different language which is used by a tiny percentage of people, regardless of race, gender, color, sexual orientation or whatever someone is offended by today, is a bad idea and a good way to have people resist the change.  This idea is paramount to using a Latin name (a language used nowhere outside Academia, which, by the way, is nowhere near this mountain).  Perhaps we could name the peak using the name and language given it by the tribe who lived here before the tribe who lived here when we got here.  You see where I’m going with this, I’m sure, and because of that I’m not going there.

Now, I don’t know who it was exactly that decided the name should change (you and I both know it was “them” because “they” decide everything!) and, until I read about the effort I was unaware that the mountains’ namesake was unworthy of the honor.  Nor did I care, to be honest.  If “they” had started telling people that the mountain was so named because it was traditionally called that and no one knew why, the nomenclature would probably still be fine.   The name was so far removed from the man that, in modern times, the rock took ownership of it.

“So,” you’re wondering, “why is this topic under a Naturalist’s Corner flag?”

Well, that’s what I’m wondering and I’m the one writing about it.  The basic point really IS the  “ownership” of the name.  It’s a cultural argument.  It’s a personal interest argument.  It may be a political argument.  It can be debated and changed numerous times in the next thousand years but, when it comes down to it, it’s our petty perception problem…

The mountain just doesn’t care.

I have recently observed yet another climatic change.  Oh, not like the dramatic warming or cooling of the global environment.  Just your standard yearly temperature increase due to the coming of spring.  Not that I have really been paying attention to anything but the last home heating bill, which I originally mistook for the fuel statement of the most recent launch of whatever orbital system NASA is using now.  The signals which tip me off to the coming of spring are much more subtle.  Things such as the noticeable reduction in the climb over the snow pile I left in the driveway because it was, after all, already February and sure to melt soon.  Also, in the spring it’s easier to track the kids through the house because the mud melts more slowly than the snow which preceded it.  Finally, a change in the center of balance of the chairs in the kitchen is a foolproof system.  This occurs in most households as the winter coats, which for some reason cannot be placed on a hanging-type device in an actual closet, become stacked so high on the backrests that the chairs assume positions lying around the table at perpendicular angles.

          I have also noted that the fishing habits of a lot of my friends have changed.  The ice is going out and the seasons’ ice fishing is drawing to a close – except for a few individuals who:  a) are extremely cautious, b) are extraordinarily stupid or c) are filled with a desire to swim in large, frigid pools with small doors.  Each year as spring approaches, there is some moron who takes his life in his hands and drives out onto the middle of the lake because the ice at one point seems to be thick enough… or they’re too lazy to walk.  More often than not this is a waste of a person who, while they should have known better, could have been trained.  It’s also a loss of a perfectly good vehicle.  Worse yet is when the person behind the wheel escapes from institutionalization long enough to take someone else with them.  This should be a question on the drivers test in all northern states and Canada:

                                                                                         yes           no

                     Are you an ice fisherman?                           [ ]           [ ]

                     Are you an idiot who doesn’t know any      [ ]           [ ]

                     better than to drive on the ice in March

                     because you’re too damn lazy to walk?

If they answer yes to the first question they should be required to take a free course on ice driving safety.  Should they answer yes to both questions the tester should deny them licensure while staring at them as if they have mayonnaise on their eyebrows. 

          Come this time of year, most of us will move into other fishing venues.  If the ice is out far enough – say 12 feet from shore – some individuals will attempt to fish from the boat.  These are usually the same fellahs who’ve recently lost a vehicle through the ice.  They will normally spend an hour and a half getting the boat in the water around the ice and troll 400 feet of beachfront in 3 ½ feet of water.  This is, of course, a much more active endeavor than standing on the shore pulling in fish like all those other guys. 

          Personally, come ice-out, I like to wander to shore and fish for the really big northern pike.  This change in prey requires a change in fishing style.  My first change in technique is basically to stay awake.  This is not because of the increase in the volume of action or the subtle approach of the northern pike in nibbling your bait.  Mostly it’s because you could wake up and find that a northern in the twenty-pound range ran out your hi-tech line and took your graphite composite rod and $127 bait casting reel for a spin around the bottom of the lake.  Since northerns live, at best, to be the age of small children, as evidenced by the fact that they can’t remember where they found anything, you will never see that particular rod and reel again.

          This leads us very naturally to our next point – anchorage.  No, I’m not referring to fishing in Alaska.  What I’m talking about is the systematic fastenage, if you will, of your rod to some solid, well-set fixture.  A tree works well if available, or possibly the bumper of your vehicle.  Personally, I use a steel carrying tube for my rod.  This doubles as a tool to pound in metal fence posts, which I can use as a rod holder.  It looks stupid, but I haven’t lost a rod and reel in years.  When fishing around a reservoir it’s possible to use a driftwood log.  It’s always hopeful that this will serve a twofold purpose – that is, if it doesn’t keep the fish from pulling your rig into the water, it will at least act as a bobber.  Since most of us are not likely to catch a fish quite that big, I’m guessing you could be fishing a bit too high in the water and you should scan the vicinity for that guy trolling the thin water strip.

          Another major change I make from the usual walleye and perch fishing I do through the ice is a change in line.  Of course all you proficient fishermen will know this and probably change your line quite frequently anyway.  Still, when fishing for an aggressive fish like the northern or muskie it’s surely a good idea to go to a heavier line.  Now, this fish is not nearly as picky as a trout or even a walleye.  Because of this, your line selection need not be particularly specific…actually, ¼ inch nylon rope works pretty well.  The downside of that is the resulting size of the spool.  Even a heavy rope, however, is little protection against the rows of razor sharp teeth carried in the mouth of these aquatic predators (i.e., big, hungry fish).  A few shakes of the head and any line will be sawed clean, allowing the pike to escape with your bait, your treble hook and a really bad case of indigestion.

          For these reasons, the employment of a leader is called for.  If, however, you can’t find a competent leader who is knowledgeable in this type of fishing, you should at least use an 8 to 12 inch spacer on the end of your line, which is harder than the teeth of the fish and thus resistant to abrasion.  This is also a leader and generally a steel one is used to prevent the escape of these game fish.  For set fishing I like to use a 3/16th inch cable.  It’s definitely heavier than needed but I don’t have to replace it very often and it does away with the need for a weight on the end of my line.

          The final note in technique for pike fishing is simple and stems from the fact that these fish are, even as fish go, rather crude.  They have no real style and are more or less the rednecks of the fresh water fish world.  Truth be told, there really is no “technique” to pike fishing once you find out where they are.  My grandfather used to use large nuts for sinkers, homemade treble hooks, braided line and bailing wire for a leader – all on the cheapest rig he could put together.  I always thought it was kind of funny until it occurred to me that Grandpa had caught a number of northern in the mid to upper twenty pound range.  My best in expensive gear in a number of the most productive lakes and rivers is nearly 10 pounds beneath his average.

          My point?  I’ve spent a lot of time reading articles and stories by the most respected fishermen in the world and I have learned a great deal – only to forget the most important lesson about fishing that my grandpa taught me:

          Find yourself a good spot, relax and enjoy yourself.