By DR. MICHAEL ROSMANN
Farm and Ranch Life 

One of my best friends, Bob, asked me a couple of weeks ago to arrange a fishing trip next spring to pursue northern pike. According to Bob, he is an expert trout fisherman, but I know most of his reports are fish stories.

I’ve fished with Bob for trout many times in the West and here in Iowa for pan-fish and bass. "My life won’t be complete without catching at least one big northern pike," Bob proclaimed.

I gave his request cautious consideration because of his many disasters in the past, like losing or breaking the fishing equipment I loaned him, not apologizing or paying for it and getting lost while river-fishing. I like Bob nonetheless, but I won’t tell him so. He needs to suffer so he develops appropriate appreciation for some of the better things in life, like using my fishing equipment and reimbursing me when he loses or breaks it.

"I’ve caught many pike in Minnesota and Canada, but fewer in Iowa," I told Bob. "They can put up a tremendous fight. They’re slimy; they can cut your hands and fishing nets with their sharp teeth; and they mess up a boat with their twisting and thrashing.

"Usually I throw pike back because they’re bony, but occasionally I keep a big one and roast it over a campfire wrapped in layers of aluminum foil with onions, peppers, tomatoes and spices. They can be really tasty. Pike are a gourmet item in Europe – my Russian friends relish them – but I prefer eating walleyes, crappie, bluegills and trout," I added.

"We have to dispatch any pike we keep for eating with a priest to administer the last rites," I noted to Bob. I had to explain that a "priest" is a wooden club, such as a cut-off oar handle – something any superior fisherman would know.

I told Bob about a fly-in trip to northern Ontario five years ago with my son, Jon, when we fished our favorite remote lake. We’ve named its hotspots Mike’s Honey Hole, the Fish Tank, the Hog Trough and a few other "ahem" designations.

"If we fish for pike, we would have to stay in a cabin located on an island to deter bears," I advised Bob. "But bears are good swimmers. You can’t leave the cabin at night even if you have to use the outhouse."

"So what do you do, use a can?" Bob sputtered.

"No, the scent attracts bears into the cabin," I admonished. "Their olfactory ability is their best sense. You’ll just have to hold it until daylight."

When Bob’s interest turned back to catching pike, I told him how Jon hooked a 2-foot pike in the Fish Tank hotspot. As Jon was reeling his catch in, something stopped it and he couldn’t pull it closer.

Jon and I wondered if he had snagged underlying debris in the river (the hotspot is actually a river, but in this part of Canada many rivers are wide and form lakes), so we maneuvered our boat closer. Suddenly his fishing line started whirling off its spool.

We observed a V-shaped trail on the water surface come to an end along the shoreline 150 feet away. When Jon couldn’t budge whatever was holding his fish, I slowly motored toward the shoreline while he kept steady pressure on his 30-pound line, his rod bent double.

While approaching 25 feet to where Jon’s line was tightened fast, it released with a "whoosh." A 2-foot-long pike flew almost into our boat. Inspecting it, we observed teeth gashes on the fish’s midsection wider than my outspread hand and in the shape of a huge fish’s jaws.

When I told Bob the teeth marks were probably those of another giant pike, he gasped audibly. "You can’t even wash your hands in the water next to the boat if we go fishing for pike," I advised.

As our conversation ended on this precautionary note, Bob said, "I’ll get back to you after I think about this awhile."

Bob emailed me yesterday to announce that he had reconsidered fishing for pike. "I don’t want to take any chances with bears, especially at night, and I’m not going to give up drinking in the evenings after fishing, so that’s that."

I fell off my chair laughing. I haven’t yet told him that I too have been known to tell fish stories. I’ll probably pay for this expansion of the truth, but I’m willing to pay the price.

Actually, everything I said about Jon’s pike adventure is true, but I might have exaggerated a bit about bears, about using the outhouse at night and putting our hands in pike waters to wash off slime. Our cabin was on an island, though, and we emptied our garbage on another remote island so as to not encourage bears to visit our abode.

Rosmann is on the adjunct faculty of the University of Iowa, author of Excellent Joy: Fishing, Farming, Hunting and Psychology, lectures across the United States and abroad and owns a row crop farm in Harlan, Iowa.

He is a founding partner of the nonprofit network AgriWellness, Inc. Email thoughts and questions to him, and find published columns available for a fee, through his website at www.agbehavioralhealth.com