The above photo depicts Oak Orchard Creek little more than a quarter-mile upstream of Lake Ontario. From the creek mouth to Waterport dam, this is a much wider stretch of stream with a more diverse fishery than found upstream. But on this day, with the exception of few bumps at the end of the line, neither the trout nor salmon were willing to cooperate.

Caught this guy this morning at Dewitt Park.  We watched him hit from about 35 ft. out in the water. His colors are Beautiful. We released him for the next time. Were there are 30 inchers,  there are Pike 3 times that size. Yikes!!!! So Go Fishing, enjoy the outdoors and all it has to offer. You won't be sorry.

                                                                                                              Happy Fishing!!

Peter, you should have taken a break with hubby and I, and come fishing. I caught a 3 lb'er, on a Baby Bass Hula Popper. Beautiful strike too!! 

Caught this guy, while fishing the sand quarry last night.  We have never seen a Bluegill this big. He was the size of a small frying pan. Just goes to show you, theres no telling, what lurkes below the surface, when fishing small bodies of water.  He was just about 2 lbs.   Happy Fishing!!

 

(Dewitt Park)

JOE: Good morning Calliope.
CALLIOPE: Good morning Joe. How are you today?
JOE: There's something about the electricity circulating around here today.
CALLIOPE: Tell me about it.
JOE: Yesterday I met with Chris at my local computer center about a few technology questions.
CALLIOPE: And?
JOE: I prepared myself to pay someone, probably him, to help me with adding a shopping cart, some forms and my blog to my website.
CALLIOPE: How did it turn out?
JOE: Good. After quite a discussion, he thought my emerging competence could handle everything I had in mind.
CALLIOPE: And if you get stuck?
JOE: He will be there to help me out of the muck.
CALLIOPE: So what's the problem?
JOE: I tried sweeping out my computer of some unneeded clutter and ended up erasing an innocent looking file necessary to start my computer. Hence a reload.
CALLIOPE: Sounds like a pain.
JOE: You said it. I'm back in business although a few programs don't quite act like I think they should. More work, but I think I'll take a break and go fishing with my grandson today. Talk with you tomorrow.

Not too many years ago, on a sunny Father’s Day, I stowed an ultra-light fishing rod and my hip boots inside the hatch of the family vehicle.  I put two small spinners in a plastic container and headed for a stretch of the Little Tonawanda not far from our home. It was a low-key plan, intended to pass the time wading the Little T, and perhaps entice the bait fish population.

The action began right away, as strikes came one after another, with creek chubs and horned dace  wasting no time inhaling the tiny Rooster Tail as soon as I began a retrieve. Though the fish were small, the surroundings and the solitude were enjoyable.  The sole competition came in the form of a kingfisher and a slow moving snapping turtle, the latter easy to spot in the shallow water.

I came across a shaded area where a tree provided a respite from the mid-day sun. Here a few rusted strands of barbed wire spanned the narrow stream, remnants of yesteryear, lending more authenticity to the rural setting. Being careful not to puncture my hip boots on the barbs, I ducked between strands and continued on.  A short distance downstream was a riffle which emptied into a small pocket of quiet water.  

I cast the Rooster Tail directly into the riffle, allowing the current to take it into the small pool. I hadn’t turned the reel handle two or three times when something belted the tiny spinner. Whatever it was, it certainly hit much harder than the baitfish I had been catching.  The fish was on for a moment before the line went slack. I assumed it was a smallmouth, and made repeated casts with no results.  

I left the little pool, wading a few yards downstream when I felt another hard strike.  The fish provided a good tussle, and moments later I was pleasantly surprised when I beached a brown trout. The fish was vivid in color - dark brown along the back, a smattering of black spots across a golden brown flank. The fish was no doubt a holdover from the previous year’s stocking far upstream in Linden.  After inspecting and releasing the fish I began working my way back upstream, stopping at the little pool with the riffle. There I was rewarded with another brown, identical to the first and maybe the same fish I had hooked earlier.  It too was released. 

Before working my way upstream toward the car, I couldn’t help but savor the moment. Even the aroma from a nearby pasture added to the enjoyment of a Father’s Day in rural America. 

Caught this Pike Sat. Morning June 20th in a Sand Quarry off Rt. 33 in Millgrove. It was our first visit, and  there are fish.  I cast into some weeds, standing on hill  looking down into the water, and this thing came leaping out of the water, rolled on my lure, as he took it down, HARD!!!!!  It was the most amaising strike  I have ever felt. Stronger than a Smallmouth, or Largemouth Bass. My husband was on his cellphone, as my pole bent to the ground.  Northern Pike scare me. They are like a snake with huge teeth.  Mike took him off, and held him for me. We also caught about 6 Largemouth a piece.   Nice morning for quarry fishing.

For the second straight year the Tonawanda Creek Carp Derby resulted in another good turnout. Ideal weather conditions attracted solo anglers as well as those who saw it as an opportunity for a family outing with upwards of forty entrants lining the creek bank for Saturday’s Carp Derby. 

Carp may not be much to look at, nor are they classified as a game fish.  However, once hooked they can put up quite a good tussle.  Several participants in Saturday’s derby can attest to that.  Shortly after the first lines hit the water, the Blecha brothers, Mike and Jeremy were the first to connect, accounting for three carp in a short time span. Their trio of fish ranged in weight from 7 to 10.5 pounds, with the latter specimen temporarily sliding into first place.  

Minutes later the Pietrzykowski brothers, Jake and Jeremy, got into the act.  Jeremy quickly set the hook after a carp inhaled his offering of corn kernels.  Minutes passed before he was able to lead the hefty bottom feeder into the shallows where Jake was waiting with the net. The fish pulled the scales to the 13lbs. 10 oz. mark.

Despite murky water conditions, there were numerous fish caught, all of them returned to the water after a brief weigh-in. The creekside camaraderie made the afternoon pass quickly and at the end of the day Jeremy Pietrzykowski  took home “Biggest Fish” honors, with the award for the smallest going to Randy Demers. 

There was quite a mix of folks lining the creek bank on this day, making for a festive atmosphere and a chance to renew old acquaintances and sample “chef” John Lawrence’s snacks hot off the grill - venison backstraps and pheasant tenders rolled in bacon.

FAMILIAR FACES IN THE CROWD: CARP DERBY PICS

 Joe Lawrence

 The Blecha Family

 Jimmy DeFreze, Jimmy, Sam, Bill & Mike Ficarella

 Dr. Joe Canzoneri with sons Nick & Mike

Mike DeFreze & Ben Buchholz

St. Joe's PE & Health Instructor Vin Romanotto

 Brian Jackson 

Hubby and I love to fish together. We call ourselfs Jacque and Monigue Laflure, {cracks us up}. We try to go pond and or lake fishing on Sunday mornings, or whenever we can.  We compete to see who can catch the most, and the biggest Largemouth Bass, Northern Pike, and Small Mouth Bass.  Small Boat Harbor on Lake Erie, behind the breakwalls is the best place to catch Small mouth Bass, and we've pulled some lunkers out of there.

   It was a Great Day Of Fishing in Upstate Ny today and we are looking forward to many more.

We went to the sandwash on monday.Jimmy caught a pretty nice fish.Is it a blue gill?

These obviously happy anglers are displaying a pair of crevalle jacks.That's my cousin Richard Silver in the stars & stripes windbreaker. Standing alongside is friend and fishing buddy, Ira Kanerick.

I remember hearing Richard once proclaim the waters off Montauk Point on the eastern end of Long Island, and area around Key West, as two of the greatest fishing grounds in the world. That was more than thirty years ago. But long before making that statement he plied the waters of Mill Pond and Black Creek in Byron, and the Tonawanda Creek where it flowed past Parker Grinnel's pasture on Dorman Rd.

Here the captain uses a cast net to collect bait fish.

Richard was born and raised in Brooklyn and it was always a treat to see him whenever he visited the home of our grandparents in fifties. He was a teenager then and I was but a little shaver and sometimes allowed to tag along with him to the above mentioned fishing holes. Later, after first serving with the U.S. Navy, then forming his own business, American Pipe & Tank Lining Co. Inc., Richard still found time to make the drive to Montauk Point where he fished for striped bass with Ira and charter skipper John DeMeo. I fished with this trio on a windy Monday morning in October of '77. We were after stripers but the waves were so bad we retreated into a tidal estuary. I wound up taking home several pounds of flounder from that trip.

Having been brought close to the boat, a shark decides to make bid for freedom.

After the hook has been set, a tarpon puts on an aerial display.

Still full of fight, the tarpon is worked carefully towards the boat.

Richard and Ira recently made a two day trip to Islamorada, in the Florida Keys and they were kind enough to pass along these photos. A variety of species, including but not limited to tarpon, shark, grouper and crevalle jacks, were more than accommodating. Along with the pictures was a note stating "The action was nonstop. If it swam, we caught it." Knowing these two long time friends, that's nothing out of the ordinary.

In the early sixties, Silver Lake provided some of the best fishing in New York.  In hindsight it would seem that Y Camp - $30 a week at the time - was an inexpensive fish camp, if fishing was your thing,

In the summer of 1964, in a week spanning late June and the beginning of July, five campers lived a young fishermen’s dream. Each day at dawn, occasionally mid-day and again prior to the sun going down, they experienced a bass angler’s delight - or beginners luck. It also signaled a time when those five young men graduated from worms to artificial lures.   

The first day of camp Mike Hintorn, Dave “Bongo” Barton and the Doody brothers, Dan and Joe and I were on the dock two hours before reveille.  With everyone else in camp still sound asleep we had the waterfront to ourselves. 

Soon we would discover the excitement of surface fishing for largemouth bass. But before any of us reached for a topwater lure we began with an old standby – juicy nightcrawlers.

For the better part of an hour we flipped worms, but the only takers were bluegills, sunfish, stunted perch and one or two small bass. The problem seemed to be the aquatic growth. Dense beds of milfoil and foxtail prevented our baits from sinking down to the cool, dark recesses where the big fish lay in wait. Growing weary of the pan fish, we began to pay attention to periodic surface activity in the form of splashes and swirls. 

Hastily we bit through monofilament fishing line, removing hooks and worms. Mike Hinton, Dave Barton and Joe Doody reached into their tackle box searching for surface plugs. Dan Doody pulled out a Jitter Bug. I opted for a Hula Popper, a lure that, up to that moment, had gone unused. It was still in the box with instructions. I didn’t take time to read them. As things turned out, the fish didn't seem to mind.  For the next hour we experienced a barrage of surface strikes.

Later, after reveille had sounded, a camp counselor spotted us on the dock and came down to investigate. I remember his exclamation when he lifted our heavy stringer of bass. As he held them up for inspection, the soft light of early morning enhances their colors - deep red gill rakers standing out in contrast against dark green backs. The fish are all big, much larger than any of us had ever seen, much less caught. The counselor eased the stringer back into the water and for several moments we stared at the fish, watching their pectoral fins move ever so slightly, their gills open and close slowly. With campers beginning to cluster around the flag pole for morning calisthenics every fish was released.   

That morning signaled the end of worm dunking. And that was only the beginning of what turned out to be a memorable stay at Y camp. Each morning at dawn the five of us were on the on the dock anticipating surface strikes. And our efforts weren't limited to the early morning hours. After the evening meal until just prior to sunset, we were back on the waterfront. And the results were quite similar.

Later in the week we began probing the waters in front of the arts & crafts building. From there we moved further along the shoreline. Adjacent the camp infirmary was another dock, this one quite smaller, a bit dilapidated and largely unused – until Mike Hinton decided to give it a whirl. On that morning Mike was casting a Zara Spook. A floater-diver, the “spook” floats on top when still, then dives just below the surface on retrieve. That morning, Mike used the “spook” to fill a stringer with largemouth that would be the envy of today’s tournament anglers.

  In close proximity to the small dock was a black willow. Growing at the waters edge, it was an older tree with two trunks, one of which extended out over the lake. One afternoon I saw Dan Doody perched in the tree with his fishing pole in hand. Situated on the large branch reaching out over the water, he was using a jitterbug like you would use a jig, bouncing it up and down onto the lake surface. Below him were two sizeable bass. They were lying motionless on the bottom in waist deep water, probably on their spawning beds. Dan never did entice those fish to strike, but the fact that he shinnied up that tree with fishing pole in hand then clambered out over the water indicates just what a spell those bass had on us.     

Evening was time for singing around the campfire. Later, after returning to our cabin for the night, we would sit on our bunks talking and looking up at all the names on the rafters and the ceiling. They were telltale signs of the campers from bygone days. All had left their mark the same way - printed in toothpaste. We had done likewise, breaking out tubes of Gleem or Colgate. Soon afterward it would be time for lights out followed by vespers. When all the giggling stopped and the whispers had died down, there was only the sound of the lake at night. Bullfrogs called from the swamp a few hundred yards distant, their throaty chorus easily carried across the water. There was the occasional sound of an outboard, maybe a walleye fisherman heading to his trolling grounds. Without a doubt each of us probably fell asleep with fish on our minds, eager for daybreak and big bass hiding among the weeds. 

Nobody thought to take a picture that week. But that's okay. I doubt there ever was a need for a photo. I’m sure each of them has a mental picture permanently filed away somewhere where it can never be lost.

Early on I learned the northern pike is not only willing to strike, they often do so with gusto, ambushing their prey in a quick and vicious manner. This, combined with their toothy, menacing appearance easily captures a young angler’s imagination.

In the first Pike Dreams segment I briefly mentioned my uncle, Jim Nigro, who first introduced me to fishing before he moved away. I was in high school when another uncle, Jim Soccio, visited from his home in Coral Gables, Fla. He invited me for a days fishing on Seneca Lake. I was told I need bring only a lunch. My grandmother made me a bag full of sandwiches – pepper & egg, steak & peppers – lots of them.   

Our quarry would be lake trout and we would be fishing with Bob Cass, then the Chief of the Geneva, NY Police Dept. and a part time guide on Seneca Lake. We boarded Cass’ boat before dawn and motored down the lake to a small bay where Cass dropped anchor. He rigged five poles with sawbellies, large minnow-like baits favored by lake trout anglers.  

I was about to discover my uncle was not a fan of northern pike.

The sun was barely above the horizon, the lake was flat calm and my uncle and Bob Cass were making small talk when the drag on the bow reel started screaming. Cass scurried along the gunwale and the cabin, grabbed the rod out of the holder and set the hook- or tried to. A moment later the line snapped, sounding like a .22 being fired.        

“Wow. What was that,” I shouted.

“Probably a big pike,” replied Bob Cass.

I looked at my uncle.   “We gonna fish for pike now, Uncle Jim?” I was no doubt bug-eyed, the adrenaline pumping.   

“What are we going to do with pike? They’re no good,” he said with disdain.

“Too many bones” chimed in Cass.

Later Bob Cass showed us an article in an Outdoor Life magazine. The story was about a pair of young men from New York City who had ventured to Seneca Lake for a day’s fishing. The photos depicted two smiling anglers holding numerous northern pike, every one of them much larger than any I had caught up to that time. Their guide had been none other than Bob Cass. I couldn’t help but wonder if he bothered to mention all those pike bones.

It was about that time I reached into the bag of sandwiches. The bag would be empty before we returned to the dock.

We caught two lake trout that day, the first came in the morning while still-fishing sawbellies. Afterward the day basically turned into a long boat ride. The second lake trout was the bigger of the two, weighing 6 lbs. and was caught while trolling Seth Green rigs, the forerunner of today’s downrigger.

I came away from that outing unimpressed with lake trout. No small wonder, as I couldn’t forget the sound of the drag singing out early that morning as a big northern ran with the bait. It was but another moment which fueled my pike dreams in a big way.

And dream I did, one of which I remember quite well.  I was in a boat, stream fishing in a place much like Whiskey Run, a noted stretch of Tonawanda Creek. Obviously the fish on the end of my line was a large northern pike. One moment I was able to see it below the surface, its white belly clearly visible as it twisted and turned in the depths. The next moment I was holding it aloft in the boat. It was absolutely huge! It was longer than I was tall with a girth to match its length. It was the pike I had long sought, the trophy for the wall. But as dreamscapes are so often surreal, there was one minor glitch - the pike had a gaudy silver zipper running the entire length of its belly.  

Strange dreams aside, the pursuit for big pike continued, years later leading to some memorable adventures in the Canadian far north. And it was in those sub-artic waters where my perception of the lake trout took a drastic, yet positive change. I’m looking forward to sharing those experiences with readers soon.

Friday night's rising air termerature and  warm  winds created a two inch layer of slush on the mantle of ice at Silver Lake in Wyoming County. Considering its early February, the conditions may have played a role in the number of ice-fishermen who turnout Saturday morning. Nonetheless, there were a few hardy individuals refused to be denied a day on the ice.

 Shortly after daybreak Saturday hard-water anglers were set up on the south end of the lake adjacent Macks Bait and Tackle. Maybe a dozen or more ice fishermen – and women – were scattered across the frozen expanse amid pop-up ice huts.   

As we were walking out onto the ice, we met a pair of ice-fishermen who had decided to call it a day. Tony and Tom Loor, of Niagara Falls, have been fishing Silver Lake for decades, both through the ice and in the open-water season. On this day the brothers were rewarded with a catch of 30 panfish, mostly bluegills and sunfish taken on mousie grubs. The Loors also fish the lake in warm weather as well. “We’ll be back in the spring,” said Tom, noting the warming trend. “Come spring we’ll be working this area by boat.” As they do in open water season, the Loors concentrated their ice-fishing along the east shoreline.     

 Despite the thawing conditions there was still a thick mantle of ice and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Some were jigging for panfish – bluegills, sunfish and perch. Others were intently watching tip-ups, hoping for northern pike, or maybe a walleye. Some, like Ron Skelly, employed both methods.

 A Perry resident Skelly, kept his children Abigail 10 and Ryan, 8, busy jigging mousies and wax worms while he rigged tip-ups with shiners. Their strategy paid off as evidenced by a bucket of hand-sized bluegills and a few plump sunfish. The shiner-baited tip-ups resulted in pair of decent northern pike, as evidenced by the photo.

When I asked if he had seen anyone take any really big northerns, the elder Skelly replied, “No, but when I took a peek through my Aqua-view I saw a fish under the ice about this big,” he said, stretching out his arms. He said the big pike never eyed his bait, but kept swimming.   

 For updates on ice conditions contact Mack’s Boat Livery at 585-237-5983 or email at fmalone@macksboatlivery.com  

There is a world-wide slaughter going on, which is not known to the public. Big fisheries and countries like Costa Rica, Taiwan, Indonesia, Japan, and Spain, are killing between 100 and 150 million sharks every year. The Maldieves pretend to be a marine sanctuary when they lure tourists to their islands but when nobody is looking, they torture sharks by cutting their fins off while the animal is still alive. It is a corrupt government that only thinks about money. Japan kills tens of thousands of dolphins & one thousand whales each year. Sharks also get their fins cut off and are thrown back into the sea, where they die an excruciating death. Dolphins are being hacked to pieces by Japanese fishermen, who behave worse than the most primitive cave men.

That is barbaric and needs to be stopped. The shark fins go to China for shark fin soup. For every affluent Chinese wedding, 30 to 40 sharks are brutally finned. The dolphin meat is sold in Japan as whale meat. This way they are not only looting our oceans, they are also cheating their own people by selling dolphins as whale meat. 

Please keep in mind, that the oceans are our life support system; if we lose the sharks we'll lose the oceans. Sharks maintain the biological balance in that very complex ecosystem and without healthy oceans, we humans have no chance of survival because the oceans produce 70% of our oxygen. ..My website: www.sharkprotect.com will give you more details. If we don't stop this slaughter we might soon be looking at one of the greatest ecological disasters of mankind.

Sharks are not killers and man eaters, that's what many in the media want us to believe. They do not want to hear what I have to say, because they prefer the horror stories of lost limbs, blood and dead people. 

Unfortunately, the Discovery Channel is not helping with their ridiculous "Shark Week", which is one big lie. Sharks are not as dangerous as people think. In order to prove it, I swim with sharks all the time. I have been in the water with as many as 30 Caribbean reef sharks at one time; I swam with tiger sharks, lemon sharks, bull sharks, black tips, hammerheads, et cetera. In more than a hundred twenty shark dives I have never been threatened by a single one of them. Of course, sharks are predators and we need to respect them. They are wild animals and not pets.  Some times sharks bite and kill but so do dogs, polar bears, mountain lions and many other predators. Sharks don't eat people; we humans are not on their menu.

Just imagine, sharks have controlled 2/3rds of our planet for over 400 million years. They were already 130 million years old, when the first dinosaurs appeared on this earth. That is hard to believe but true. How old is the human race in comparison to that? I don't think we have lived here as humans for more than maybe 2 million years. But in the last 30 years alone we have managed to bring over 100 of the 500 shark species to the brink of extinction. Stephen Spielbergs horror movie "Jaws", after the book by Peter Benchley, started a world-wide slaughter of sharks. Even Mr. Benchley said: "If I had known then what I know now, I could never have written that book. The monster I created is pure fiction."

Sharks need as many friends as they can get. We need young people to cry out against this senseless and brutal slaughter. This is your world; you and your children have to live with the terrible things my generation is doing to the environment. Keep in mind: "If we lose the sharks we'll lose the oceans" and when that happens, we'll all die because without the oceans and the oxygen they produce, we have no chance of survival.

That's why we should not kill sharks for money, fun or for macho photographs.  If we continue this kind of looting, we are digging our own grave.   And for what?     For money, greed and fun!   Is that really worth it?