Peering at the Past Stinky fish, chicken livers and nightcrawlers

August 14, 2023 by Lee Epps Leave a Comment

Part two of a series

About 1950, some Rushford students received permission to be a couple of hours late to school, so at the break of dawn, mostly men and boys could be at nearby streams, hoping to catch the first trout of the season. It was the fishing opener, the opening day of trout season. The Minnesota Governor’s Fishing Opener has been a time-honored tradition in Minnesota since 1948.

“Opening day of trout fishing was always a big event,” according to Caledonian Paul Wagner. “The preparation for and the anticipation of this day usually made the last part of winter rush by… we would check the steam weeks before… We knew almost to an art where the best catches would be.”

In the early years, the starting time for the trout season was 10 a.m., which gave farmers time to complete chores before arriving at the creek in time for the countdown. “I remember once at Zenner’s bridge, there was an actual countdown by my Grandpa Nic… and the season began.

“During other opening days, we would ‘stake our claim’ at our favorite spot that we had previously scouted. Sometimes this meant being there two or three hours before starting time. This time of waiting was spent often in very cool April weather. Many opening days would be just before, after or during a snowfall. The weather would never delay the fisherman’s desire to make that first cast. After the initial start of the season, most fishing becomes a solitary time in the countryside.”

Fishing was affordable even in tough times. A bamboo cane pole was inexpensive as was a large package of various-sized hooks. Instead of purchasing fishing line, the dark blue thread for mending overalls would suffice. It was much heavier than colored threads used for most sewing and mending. “Instead of buying a bobber, there was usually a real cork lying around,” said area historian David Beckman.

In Rushford, fishing season was announced when the H. M. Smith Store displayed cane polls, which were held upright inside a metal ring attached to the outer wall of the building. However, the bamboo poles limited how far you could put your line into the water. So, it was a rite of passage and a matter of finance for Rushford area youngsters when they could purchase their first rod and reel at the Gamble Store. The fishing rod was only about four feet long but allowed casting out farther than a single-piece, 10- to 12-foot cane pole. And it was difficult to transport a cane pole while riding a bicycle. But with a can of worms in the bicycle basket, one could carry a rod and reel in one hand while pedaling.

“Fishing for redhorse with our new-fangled rod and reel and only a six-pound test line exposed us to what was known as ‘sport fishing,’” said Beckman. “Feeling the fish tugging on the line, then starting to make its run was a thrill we had never experienced.”

For bait, most used worms – nightcrawlers, angleworms (earthworms). Throughout Caledonia, many young entrepreneurs displayed signs declaring “Nightcrawlers for Sale.” On the farm, the best place to dig for worms was around a manure pile either in the cow yard or by the hog house – but not the chicken coop. “Chicken manure had a very high content of nitrogen which was like breathing pure ammonia,” said Beckman. “The strong stench of the chicken coop made my eyes water.

“There was always the question as to what was a ‘keeper?’ I thought everything I caught was a keeper but Dad made the final decision. The only exception was if a fish was hooked badly and would not have survived when thrown back it was added to the stringer. Wasting food was never an option. The stringer was a heavy cord purchased at the Vathing Hardware Store in Houston as were the hooks.

“The knot on the stringer, where it was tied to a small tree, was checked periodically to make sure it was still tight before throwing the stash of fish back into the slough. Having a stringer full of fish slip into the depths of the slough would have been a disaster. Occasionally, a large snapping turtle would swim over and try to steal a fish. A quick call to Dad got the stringer retrieved and the turtle chased away.”

One Rushford area fisherman was known to make cornmeal balls to fish for carp. If trying to attract pike, one might use metal lures, such as spinners, jigs or daredevils. Catfish liked chicken livers, which in Rushford, could be purchased at Johnson’s Meat Market. Some were said to put dead chickens or chicken parts in a gunny sack and throw it into the river.

As a teenager in the late 1950s, Beckman would go catfishing with future father-in-law, Maurice Knutson, who for bait, used limburger cheese that had been sitting out for days. “There is no doubt that wrapping a hunk of stinky limburger cheese in a small piece of gauze was an outside job.”

They would head off to the Root River near Houston to put out setlines. It was preferable to select a place where the current wouldn’t keep the bait from settling to the bottom. Knutson would cut off a suitable length of sapling and sharpen the large end to a point. A 30-pound test line was tied to the small end along with a large hook with a hunk of cheese. The sharpened end of the pole was pushed at an angle into the side of the river bank, and the wad of bait was thrown into the river. “The bait smelled so bad the catfish were lining up before it even hit the water.” After positioning about 10 poles, they would head home “to wait for the big catch.”

They returned after dark with a “feeble” flashlight. “A few catfish were caught, but most lines were empty with the bait gone or were taut with a dreaded garfish.”

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