8/11/04 Kankakee River Area 7

[Ken G]

Air temperature 63 degrees, water temperature 75 degrees, mostly cloudy skies, water normal, visibility about 18 inches, 12:30 to 5:30 p.m., jigs and twisters.

The high water on the Kankakee this year has kept me away more than I like. Thought it was time to give it another try. Total:

29 smallmouth bass,
1 rock bass.

This morning as I stepped out to get the newspaper from its usual spot on my driveway, I could see my breath as I breathed. The day before I was out on the Kankakee River. It was fall. Or at least that's what it felt like. Even the gray clouds and brisk wind coming out of the northeast lent itself to the allusion. The only tip off that it was August in Illinois was that the woods lining the river were a deep dark lush green. The weather was telling me I should be out hunting. Squirrel could be had at some state parks and what better kind of weather to be wandering and sitting in the woods than a cool kind of weather day. But no, I went fishing instead.

My first half hour on the river got me 13 smallmouth bass and fingers tingling from the cold. Reports I had read were telling me that the fishing on the Kank was going to be slow. Maybe they're used to 20 fish in a half hour. I considered heading back to the car for my finger less wool gloves, but it was August and I already refused to let my wife turn the heat on in the house so how could I justify wearing gloves? Also, with 13 smallies in a half hour, why waste time. I'd eventually get the feeling back in my hands when I got off the water in a few hours anyway.

I knew that if I fished around the old limestone bridge pylons I could continue to catch fish at the rate set up by the first half hour. I started across the river. Hmmmmm, things seemed a little higher than I remembered. I know I crossed here in the past, but maybe the river was just a little higher than normal. I turned back. No point ruining the day in the first hour. Getting wet on a cool day like this would be extremely uncomfortable. I decided to go fish the inside edge of the first pylon. Good looking water. As I got closer I realized the river bottom was going down a bit. No big deal, I'll just back out. I then realized the chute was pushing harder than I thought and I was suddenly committed to walking down and through the edge of the chute. I got up on my toes and hoped that would be enough. It was, just barely. I glanced back quickly at the good looking water as tripped over a huge rock and went airborne. Or I guess that would be waterbourne. Whatever, all I know was that neither of my feet were touching anything that resembled ground. I drifted a few feet, somehow keeping the top edge of my waders above the water line. I felt ground and kicked off to the side where I knew it had to be shallower. A few seconds later I was sitting on a butt sized rock collecting my senses and taking an inventory. One wet elbow and one missed good looking spot. I came out ahead on this one.

I knew this fish catching ratio was too good to be true and I settled into a rhythm that would get me the occasional fish from the usual spots. At least I now knew what kind of water to avoid. I started with jigs and twisters and that's what the first 13 came on. A pearl 3 inch twister was what was tied on my line, so I left it till the fish destroyed it. Then I switched to other colors. It was pearl they wanted and I only had one more on me. I decided to keep trying other things so I tied on worms, senkos, twin tails and a few topwaters. Major disappointment. I put on my last pearl twister. Back to catching fish. I was tempted to go back over the water I had already fished, but it would have been some extensive back tracking. I kept moving along.

I stopped by the duck blind I had hunted out of last season and had got my first Illinois goose. The weather today was no different than on one of the days I hunted last year. I sat in the blind for a few minutes to take a break. The blind was in good shape in spite of the high water. I imagined sitting with shotgun in lap, scanning the skies for anything that resembled a goose or a duck. This weather was putting the hunting urge into high gear. Back to fishing.

I wandered back and forth across the river, checking out another duck blind on the way. The fishing wasn't hot and heavy, but consistent enough to keep me fishing. On one of my sojourns around the edge of an island I interrupted a deer snacking on the shore line grasses. We stood and stared at each other. She bent down and grabbed another mouthful of grasses, looked at me one more time, then quietly walked off into the woods. Venison chili was all I could think about for the next 10 minutes.

I fished past my usual put out point knowing that I would probably see another fishermans path further down. I decided to quit fishing when I caught 30 fish. The fish didn't cooperate. At 29 all the hits stopped and I was too tired to continue down river. I looked up the path and up the hill I had to climb. There were skid marks on the path on the hill. Only they weren't human feet, but animal feet. You could see where deer and raccoons had skid down the hill. Somehow I don't think it was for fun. The ground was dry and I made it to the top without losing any ground.

In the car and on the way home along Route 113, I kept an eye out for pheasant as I drove along the Kankakee River State Park. I had already heard one in the woods while out fishing and also heard a few quail. They seem to like to head back and forth across this road toward the end of the day, I've seen them do it before. There it was in the road, a pheasant. Only it was dead. It wasn't there a few hours ago when I came the opposite direction. I slowed and looked in my mirror. Damn, a car was behind me. I considered pulling off the road. It was road kill, but it could still be warm. Pheasant soup, pheasant thighs wrapped in bacon and grilled, pheasant in a gravy and served over biscuits steeped in butter.

But it was road kill. I kept driving. Such a shame to leave such tasty critters lying to rot on the road. What are the legal ramifications of picking up road kill? Do I have to report everything to the IDNR? Man, I gotta get out hunting soon. Thinking like this was starting to get to me.