Story Excerpts

The Angler’s Guide to Walleye Ice Fishing
by Mark Thielman

Finding the walleye is often the most challenging part of
successful fishing. Understand what goes on
beneath the surface of the lake.
The Angler’s Guide to Walleye Ice Fishing

The key to ice fishing was learning to wait. Mavis’s trip proved the worth of patience. Here at the lake, Bill had awakened. In the beginning, he had been sullen. Slowly, like the morning, the Bill she knew had emerged from his funk. He began peppering his conversation with sexual innuendos. Standard fishing terms became crude jokes. Mavis pretended not to smile. She tried to remember his lines to spice up her conversation with a girlfriend: “hole hopping,” “tube bait,” and, of course, “rod.” In truth, Mavis didn’t have friends like that. Except for Dylan, she thought. She could tell Dylan.

Bill’s puns proved to be only the beginning. Mid-morning, the tip-up flag on Mavis’s fishing pole snapped erect. He dropped another of his dirty jokes as Mavis hurried to her gear. She pulled a twenty-two-inch walleye up through the ice, the best fish she’d caught all winter. To her mind, the fish seemed the perfect size. It was big enough to look good in a photograph, small enough for the filets to fit easily in the frying pan, and young enough to be tasty.

“You’ve hooked the perfect fish,” Bill said. He then smiled and disappeared into his thoughts. He didn’t even make a sex joke. Mavis’s luck had been better than Bill’s. He had only caught two small perch. Bill helped her drop her fish into the insulated cooler beneath his ice fishing chair. Then Bill sat back down. Mavis could see his mind start to drift again.

He had been distracted all morning. Leaving Sioux Falls, Mavis had offered to drive his pickup to the lake. She couldn’t shake the fear that an inattentive Bill might steer them off the road. In the pre-dawn, Mavis looked across the hood of the heavy truck and out over the highway, searching for black ice hidden by a light dusting of snow on the lightly traveled pavement. Her hands firmly gripped the steering wheel.

“The pedal still sticks,” she’d said.

Bill, who’d been staring out the window, turned to her. “What?”

“The accelerator, kinda gummy. I thought you were going to get that looked at?”

Bill nodded. “I will. Or maybe I’ll buy a new truck.”

“Maybe I’ll become a consultant if they make that kind of money.”

Bill said nothing. He just faced the window and watched the passing silhouettes of prairie fences.

“Make sure to get one with a heavy-duty bumper. It’s neighborly to help people who get stuck in the snow.” Mavis thought about the truck’s front end, scratched with the blue and chrome examples of Bill being a good Samaritan.

He nodded.

Mavis drove onto Lake Poinsett and parked, the truck resting on the thick ice. Bill roused. Outside, they augured their holes in the ice, set up their gear, and began the waiting.

 

Transitions, changes from one depth to another, usually prove to be the best fishing locations. Be careful. Changes in depth often bring changes in ice quality. Be on the lookout for rotten ice.

The Angler’s Guide to Walleye Ice Fishing

 

After the excitement of landing the walleye, Mavis felt breathless. She’d exercised little lately. About the time her heart had settled down, Bill stood up from his camping chair and walked to her. He kneeled, the leg of his insulated bibs crunching against the thin layer of snow atop the ice. Bill pulled the glove off one hand and reached into the pocket of his parka. He removed a velvet box. Inside, Mavis saw the small diamond glistening like an ice crystal in the morning. Bill took the mitten off her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. She nodded so enthusiastically that she nearly shook the stocking cap off her head and accepted his proposal. Mavis watched her breath comingle with Bill’s. She wished she had a jar to capture the vapor forever. Many girls had dried rose petals from their engagement. She doubted that anyone else anywhere had the preserved words themselves, proof of an ideal South Dakota moment. The day was coming together exactly as she dreamed. She wanted to remember every detail.

“Ice on the ice,” Bill said.

“It’s perfect.” Mavis kissed him hard on the mouth. She patted her pockets. “I need my phone.”

“We had a deal, no phones today. Don’t make me take my ring back.”

Mavis pulled her mitten over her hand. “I need pictures. My phone is charging in the truck. I’ll keep it in airplane mode, I promise.”

She half-walked and half-skated across the ice to the pickup. Mavis went to the passenger side, knelt, and retrieved the phone from the floorboard. Then she hurried back to Bill. Mavis took selfies of them together, her ringed finger in Bill’s hand and, of course, the walleye. The three trophies she’d captured for the day.

From his backpack, Bill produced a small bottle of champagne. He popped the cork. From out of a nearby ice shanty, a fisherman appeared. Bill had thought of everything except flutes. The fisherman ducked back into his shack and returned with three Budweiser cups. Bill poured, and they all toasted the happy couple.

The fisherman didn’t celebrate long. He hurried off to check his line.

 

Walleyes are less active during the winter. The cold water

and lower metabolic rates reduce their movement. They eat only enough to sustain themselves. Finding the right spot on the ice

is critical to successful fishing.

The Angler’s Guide to Walleye Ice Fishing

 

They were alone again. Mavis sat, a soft smile seemingly frozen on her face. She thought about how her life had changed. She’d been happily married for six years. Then, last winter, Henry died. His car tore through a bridge guardrail and sank into Big Stone Lake. The police ruled the one-car crash an accident. The Brookings County medical examiner had found a trace amount of alcohol in his blood. Mavis protested. Henry never drank to excess. She remembered the motor vehicle detective nodding. Well-practiced sympathy marked his face. Wives didn’t always know what happened when their husbands were out of the house. And if a driver has even a little alcohol, the detective patiently explained, he shouldn’t get behind the wheel. Ice can surprise a driver. The detective acted as if she had been born on the equator. She and Henry had lived their entire lives in snow country. The detective spoke slowly. Henry’s car had front and rear-end damage. The investigator determined that Henry had gotten himself out of control and over-corrected. He slammed into the guardrail before plunging into the water. His midnight blue Impala likely sank quickly into the dark water. Small wonder Henry had been trapped.

Mavis returned to see the detective several times. The more she thought about it, the more inconsistencies she saw.

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Copyright © 2025. The Angler’s Guide to Walleye Ice Fishing by Mark Thielman