“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.” — Robert Frost
A lone fisherman is out on the snow-covered pond this morning, his distant outline somewhat incongruous to this landscape. He’s dressed for the cold in a tan, one-piece thermal suit and has the usual ice fishing requisites with him ”“ folding chair, ice auger, red flags and a small sled to pull everything out on. I’m told I may see a few shacks out there, too, at some point. But so far, this is the first sign I’ve seen of anyone seeking to harvest what swims beneath the ice.
I know precious little about ice fishing, or fishing in general, for that matter. But I am nonetheless fascinated by the fact that more than a few stalwart souls still venture out at this time each year in search of what nature provides even in the dead of winter, to use an old saw. Nearby Kennebunk Pond is already sporting a few shacks and will probably acquire more in the days to come, especially if this mild temperature respite is a short one. January is the month of the deep freeze, when ponds develop thick crusts that are safe to walk on or drive out across and to support small temporary shelters that, come an early thaw, are left to bob comically in open waters until someone retrieves them.
Not being quite sure as to exactly what types of fish are involved in this sport, I did a bit of research and came upon a few interesting facts. It seems that the primary catches in Wadleigh Pond and nearby Roberts Pond are largemouth bass, pickerel and black crappie. Both ponds feature a predominance of shallow spots that are home to thick growths of aquatic plants, and the fish common to them spawn and care for their young in this dense vegetation. Neither pond has any means of public access, so whoever fishes these waters either lives here or knows someone who does.
Contrary to widespread opinion, fish living in ponds and lakes do not freeze in the winter, no matter how cold it gets. The biggest threat to overwintering fish has nothing to do with cold temperatures and everything to do with the amount of oxygen available to them in the ice-covered water. Whereas cold water retains more oxygen, this process is impacted by several factors, including the solid ice cover that prevents oxygen in the air from mixing with the water and less sunlight that significantly reduces food production among aquatic plants. This process, called photosynthesis, produces oxygen as a byproduct, which, during warm weather, remains in the water and is constantly being produced. As daylight decreases, the process stops altogether, which is why trees shed their leaves and annual flowers die back each year, thereby also greatly affecting the amount of oxygen in pond and lake water that fish need to survive. In cases where temperatures remain well below freezing for extended periods of time and a pond’s ice cover remains in place well into spring, fish may die from oxygen deprivation, but some are able to enter a dormant stage during which all their bodily processes slow to a crawl. The practice of ice fishing itself helps somewhat by opening passageways through the ice that somewhat enhance the exchange of oxygen between water and the atmosphere.
The solitary fisherman has walked to shore and back a few times and has cut another hole in the ice a few feet from the first one. There he sits in his chair, waiting, an activity of which ice fishermen (and -women) do an awful lot. Like all else in nature, fish aren’t in a hurry to do much of anything, least of all get caught on the end of someone’s ice-fishing line. As avid anglers will tell you, fish aren’t so dumb as to snap at the first thing they see descending from the water’s surface. Hence the huge industry built around as simple a device as a fishing lure, with the emphasis being on the word “lure.”
The man is gone now, having packed up his gear and towed it to shore, evidently calling it a day. Whether he caught any fish or not is unknown, as I observed him only intermittently throughout the morning and early afternoon hours. Perhaps catching fish wasn’t the only thing on his mind, and he also sought the calm that surely must prevail halfway across a frozen pond on a bright winter’s day. Did he make use of all that spare time by considering his relationship to that great open space, humbled by its vastness and its stillness, knowing how impossible his presence there were it not for the ice? A solitary man set out this morning to seek some sort of bounty from beneath the ice and, from this distance, was but a speck against the white world that is a pond in winter.
— Rachel Lovejoy, a freelance writer living in Lyman, who enjoys exploring the woods of southern Maine, can be reached via email at rachell1950@yahoo.com.
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