Of fathers, sons and big predator fish at Hennepin and Hopper lakes
HENNEPIN, Ill. — Justin Seibert and I earned time to chat June 6.
We had caught muskie and northern pike.
I wondered how he felt about his following his dad, which isn’t a frivolous question. A few hours later, I left to help my brothers spread our dad’s ashes over a 200-mile swath. I know the weight of fathers on sons.
As we sat in his dad’s johnboat at Hennepin and Hopper lakes, Seibert said: ‘‘I have big footsteps to fill. My vision of where I want to go to . . . you know, I want to keep certain things the way they were and I don’t want to change a whole lot, but I definitely want to have my own path.’’
Seibert replaced his dad as the site manager at Dixon Waterfowl Refuge. Rick Seibert was the best hire The Wetlands Initiative made to begin the audacious restoration of the Illinois River backwater of Hennepin and Hopper in 2001. Rick, who retired last year, bridged the gap between locals and the ‘‘carpetbaggers from Chicago.’’
Paul Botts, TWI’s president and executive director, had reservations about hiring Justin because of nepotism. But the younger Seibert’s résumé fit the job.
‘‘I honestly feel like this is just meant to be, like I was meant to take over this job,’’ Justin said. ‘‘And just, like, I don’t know all the things I would like to happen to this point.’’
He had multiple fisheries positions out west, including with the Spokane Tribe of Indians. For three years, he owned Heartland Lake and Land Management in central Illinois. He was a fisheries researcher at Southern Illinois and an intern and technician (when young) at Hennepin and Hopper. His master’s thesis from Southeast Missouri State is on aging structures of silver carp.
He knows fish.
Before we fished, Justin texted: ‘‘I have been catching fish mainly on bluegill-colored swimbaits with Rage tails, spinner baits and buzzbaits: chartreuse and white or light blue and white. The Rage tails are 4.75 inches and bluegill or green pumpkin color.’’
The big Rage tails ‘‘keep them above the weeds a little better.’’
A few casts in, a big muskie blew up on my ChatterBait but missed. Then Justin caught a 29¼-inch northern pike on a spinner bait. I followed with a 31-inch muskie on a ChatterBait.
After a dry spell, Justin said to look at the wake behind his spinner bait. I turned to see the muskie slam it. It was 40œ inches, the biggest of his life.
Justin had one last spot to fish.
‘‘Fish where it’’s open,’’ he said.
Aquatic plants had filled in quickly in the month since opening day. There’s lots of sago pondweed, ‘‘which is why there’s so many gadwalls [ducks] out here,’’ he said.
I fired a frog perfectly over a weed corner, and a massive largemouth blew. Overly excited, I yanked the frog out of its gaping maw.
Justin’s follow-up with a swimbait hooked the 5-pound-plus largemouth, his best of the year.
It was time.
The wind built to 35 mph, and we struggled to get back. I ran the back trolling motor, Justin the front. At times, he poled us.
Fishing runs through Labor Day from sunrise to 30 minutes after sunset. No gas-powered motors are allowed; only electric trolling motors or kayaks and canoes. There is no shore fishing. The only live bait allowed are red worms, wax worms and night crawlers.
Details are at wetlands-initiative.org/dixon-waterfowl-refuge-hh.
Wild things
Readers and friends report more rabbits than usual eating their gardens around Chicago. I wonder whether climate change has things sprouting or being planted earlier.
Stray cast
WNBA matches prickly pear.