The coldest day

By V. Paul Reynolds

“That’s it,” I told my wife Diane more than 20 years ago on a bitter February day on Seboeis Lake. “I think this will be my last ice fishing trip.” The thermometer was hovering about 10 degrees. A stiff north wind was whipping up the surface snow and leaving a whiteout on the lake. Trying to replenish the live bait on a hook with bare hands was no fun. By noon, wind flags were about the extent of the action.

The following winter found Diane and I in a mobile home in the Florida Keys, where the fishing conditions were exceedingly more user friendly. We spent 20 good years escaping the Maine winters.

By the way, all of my ice fishing gear, including an old 12 hp Skidoo, was bequeathed to my son Josh. You know that when you swear off ice fishing and give away almost a lifetime accumulation of gear that your pledge is serious, that you mean business.

Fast forward to 2025 and President’s Day weekend. There we were, my sons and I, ice fishing at Seboeis Lake. I had surprised myself, the committed snowbird, with a newly purchased used snow sled and a half dozen overpriced ice fishing tip ups, and a few other ice fishing doodads.

So much for promises made. Life is full of twists and turns and the wise person remains guarded about never saying never, or banking on what seems to await you down the road.

Wintering again in the great state of Maine, this aging, ex-patriot ice fisherman just could not resist the overriding tug of lingering good memories — some nasty weather days, yes, but so many wonderful times during years of Maine ice fishing. “So you have some years on you” I mused to myself, “your sons will do the heavy lifting. They want you there. Go for it.”

Wouldn’t you know it. The weatherman was waiting in ambush just for me. The first day back on the Seboeis ice in over 20 years, Feb. 14, Valentine’s Day, was one of the least desirable ice fishing days you could possibly imagine. Blue skies and bright sunshine; however, the wind, my friend, was gusting out of the northwest at 50 miles per hour!

But, hey, we were there to fish, right? And fish we did. If you are an ice fisherman you have some idea what a 50 mph wind looks and feels like roaring down a big snow-covered lake, not only to your bare hands when baiting up, but also to your freshly-augered ice holes.

Yes, we caught fish that day, too many pickerel, but a few fat splake as well. The following day the wind subsided some and the fishing got even better. And we ate well. Scallop chowder and Scotty’s sumptuous broiled splake fillets were rewards for a windburned face, a sore back, and chapped hands.

The biggest reward came on the last day as we witnessed, not one, not two, but seven bald eagles soaring above us in the northwest thermals. They were surveilling from above a pickerel or two that had been left on the ice. The big birds took turns hovering and making low level passes over the dispatched pickerel. As the sun sank beneath the ridge line, the low light emboldened them and they put down on the ice, all of them, near a pickerel at our farthest ice hole. Then, a hierarchical struggle ensued among the birds for the fish meal that they had been coveting from the air most of the day. We could see that the pickerel, due to its size, could not be airlifted to a safe perch in the shore side hemlocks. So a sort of combative dance erupted around our ice hole as each bird vied for the right to partake of pickerel sushi. As is usually the case in nature’s battleground, the largest of the birds earned a seat at the head table. The smaller eagles stood off awaiting any leftovers.  

All of us had seen bald eagles, once up close and personal a few Junes ago when an eagle swooped from the sky over the Big Eddy on the West Branch and actually stole a salmon we were about to net. But never had I seen that many of these impressive raptors in one group! There was a day when these majestic birds were listed as an endangered species.

It was good to be back on the winter ice after all these years, despite the single digit temps and the bitter winds of Valentine’s Day. We are all eager to make a return trip before the inevitable melt that will visit the lake in late March.

The author is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal. He is also a Maine Guide and host of a weekly radio program “Maine Outdoors” heard Sundays at 7 p.m. on The Voice of Maine News-Talk Network. He has authored three books. Online purchase information is available at www.sportingjournal.com.