Mother Musky: The Spirit Animal of Pregnancy

Mysterious, aloof, intimidating, fickle, epic, thrilling, and addictive are all words that can describe chasing musky on the fly. Frankly, targeting musky on a fly rod is a pursuit for the fool-hearted and sadomasochistic. Musky are intensely frustrating creatures whose burdensome quirks and tendencies are only rivaled by the allure of catching one on the fly.

Casting heavy rods and line along with the large musky flies and figure eighting after each retrieve make fishing for musky a uniquely taxing physical challenge. The other side of the musky fishing coin is the mental fortitude it takes to catch one of these fish with a fly rod. They can eat out of nowhere in the deep, they can be hiding under your boat, they could blow up on your fly right off the bank, or they might follow your fly back to the boat and chase it through a series of figure eights only to disappear back into the depths. Fly fishing for musky tests anglers physically and mentally like no other freshwater fish. They seem to know when you're tired and let your guard down and that's when they eat. None of this is new information to anyone that has targeted musky. However, this is the story of how musky have seemingly become the spirit animal to my wife and I’s first child.

Feathers, Whiskey, and a Safety Kit. What more could you need

I first went musky fishing in the winter of 2019 after the trout guide season had calmed down. We moved some fish and had follows but had no eats. A typical musky trip. This would repeat itself a couple more times that winter. Then musky fishing became an off-season target for my friends and me. This led to planning a multi-day musky trip for six of us in 2021. We had two drift boats, six anglers ready to grind it out, and three days to get it done. Long story short, the conditions weren’t ideal. The water was incredibly high and a muddy brown color. Despite these conditions we did manage to catch one 40-inch musky as a group. The trip was a ton of fun, full of laughs and camaraderie all centered around the common goal of landing a musky.

At this point in time my wife and I had been trying to get pregnant for the better part of two years. During those two years we had gotten pregnant twice and lost both due to miscarriages. I know this is sad and not necessarily what you signed up to read in a fishing blog but I am sharing this with you not only because it's an important part of this story but because the difficulties of getting pregnant, infertility, and miscarriages don’t get talked about enough. Ten to fifteen percent of known pregnancies will end in a miscarriage. The key word there is “known”. The actual number is higher because many miscarriages take place before a woman even knows she is pregnant. Some health experts estimated that as many as one out of every three women will experience a miscarriage during their life. It's very easy and understandable to fall into a deep depression following such a loss. We were no different and things were really hard for a while. I remember guiding the days and weeks after our miscarriage. I was a ghost on those trips. I was there in body but in a different world mentally and emotionally. I excused myself for a moment under the guise of having forgotten a piece of gear in the car. I broke down and cried in my car for a few minutes, then splashed some creek water on my face, lowered my sunglasses to hide my puffy eyes and went back to my clients.

There were days when I seemed to be doing better, but then random things would bring it all back up to the forefront of my reality. If you’re reading this and are going through something similar I want you to know that you’re not alone, it’s not your fault, it gets better with time, and talking about it will help even if it is painful. Please reach out to your friends, family, or even myself if you’re experiencing this. You’ll be surprised by how many people you know who went through the same thing and how much support is around you.

But back to the story...the trip ended, we all hugged, said our goodbyes and vowed to make this an annual trip. I was heading home when I got a text from my wife that read, “I am 100% ovulating today, be ready when you get home.” A welcomed idea after spending three days with a bunch of dudes on a boat. I made it home ecstatic and more than “ready.” Fast forward a few weeks and we had a positive pregnancy test. During our first doctor's appointment they measured the embryo to estimate the date of conception. Low and behold the estimated date of conception was the day I returned from the musky trip. Of course we were excited to be pregnant again but there was a lingering fear of “will it happen again.” Only time would tell and so we went forward into our new pregnancy with cautious optimism. Due date November 16th 2021

Fast forward again. We passed the 20 week mark of our new pregnancy. This is important to note because the chance of miscarriages goes down significantly after the 20 week mark. We still weren’t out of the woods yet, but it was the farthest along we had made it and we were feeling positive.

The summer months of our pregnancy passed by quickly as it was in the middle of a very busy guide season. Before we knew it, fall was upon us. My friend Kevin, who was also on the pre-conception musky trip, had been trying to get me to come up to upstate New York to fish for musky with him for some time. With the due date looming ever closer, we planned a trip for September 29th through October 3rd. This date range was far enough out from the due date that I felt comfortable with traveling that far away. Two days for travel, two days for fishing, and one cushion day for after I got back before I started guiding again. My mindset going into this trip was that it would be the last big fishing trip that I could do before the baby arrived. One last hoorah or some cliche like that. With my wife’s blessing I took off to upstate New York, excited to see my friend, fish new water, and hopefully catch my first musky.

Early fall colors in New York near our campsite

I arrived in Albany and quickly spotted a car with a canoe on top of it waiting in the pick up line, Kevin’s car for sure. A couple of quick hugs and stashing my gear and we were off to our campsite. On the way there we stopped to get some New York pizza and it did not disappoint. We both ate far too much, but with a few hours of driving before we could set up camp it felt like a good time to veg out in the car. We set up camp and drank around the fire while we caught up with each other. The next time we saw daylight it would be gametime.

Day one: Toasted egg bagels with smoked salmon for breakfast. Then we launched the canoe loaded with our gear for the day. We progressed down river while casting, retrieving, and talking tactics for the day. A warm up as we headed closer and closer to the better stretch of the river. “Here’s where it gets good,” Kevin says as he slows the canoe down. Kevin tells me that we will move one here and he was right. I moved two musky off the left bank. No eats, but encouraging nonetheless.

Then we start to work up the far right bank. I move a smaller one to the boat and it chases the fly through a couple rotations of the figure eight, no eat. As we continue up the right bank I cast into some deep water near a drop off. Strip, strip, strip and the line goes tight. I strip set into this fish three times before I lifted the tip of the rod. I feel a couple head shakes as I gain ground on the fish. A dark shape comes up to the surface and a musky head erupts out of the water gills flaring and the fly shakes loose from its mouth. It was a little disappointing to see the fly come unbuttoned but my spirits were still high. I had just moved a few musky in a short period of time and gotten an eat. After that experience I was sure we would get it done that day. I was wrong. We moved more fish here and there but none ever committed to eating the fly. The sun was high, bluebird skies, and an unusually warm day for fall in northern New York shut the bite off towards the end of day one. Day one was a good day where I learned a lot under the tutelage of musky man Kevin. We ate some dinner and returned to camp to rest and recuperate before day two.

Day Two: Similar to the temperamental nature of musky, the weather for day two did a hard about face from day one. The forecast was rainy and thick cloud cover for the entire day. This forecast got our hopes up that the big predatory fish would be on the hunt for some food. We slid the canoe into the river and Kevin rowed us upstream to work the near bank. I cast out and the fly lands a couple feet off of the bank and something blows up on it. A small musky more than likely. We keep fishing and retrieving until we have a mysterious boat side blow up. It was either a large smallmouth or a small musky. Inconclusive since neither of us saw what ate but the activity level of the fish was encouraging.

Today felt different. We headed downstream and Kevin told me about a large musky he had moved a few weeks prior in this particular cut out bank. The canoe slowed as we got into position. Before I casted out Kevin urged me to be ready just in case it was still there. I hauled out the cast, landing the fly about a foot off of the crescent-shaped cut out bank. The first strip sinks the fly a few inches under the surface. Pause. The second strip moves the fly deeper. The pause causes the fly to turn sideways. Then I see the mouth of a large musky open as it T-bones the fly. With the image of the musky from day one shaking my fly loose in my mind, I strip set over and over again until our canoe was being pulled by each strip. Finally, I lifted the rod tip up into the air feeling confident that I had the fly pinned in its mouth.

Violence ensued. Our 11 weight rod was doubled over under the weight and strength of the fish. The fish was pulling our canoe around without a second thought. I began to add more pressure and the fish broke the surface and jumped cartwheeling out of the water. The glare on the water had hidden the fish’s true size until she showed her hand during the jump. We were both dumbfounded at the size and strength of this fish. There was still a lot of work to be done. The fish fought with massive head shakes and surging pulls. Just when I thought I was gaining the upper hand the fish quickly circled behind the canoe causing me to pivot awkwardly while standing in the canoe. Once I had regained my bearings she dove under the canoe and I had to put the brakes on. I felt the massive head of the fish turn back towards the pressure I was giving and I realized she was getting tired. A few moments later Kevin slipped the net around her and we had done it!

We pulled the canoe over to a muddy bank. Then we precariously positioned ourselves on the unreasonably slick bank. The rain and low temperature caused my lens to fog up pretty bad but we snapped a few photos. This fish had an undeniable presence and gravity about it that rendered time to a stand still. With great reverence we said goodbye and released her back into the tea colored water. Silence. We looked at each other in shock of what had just happened. We embraced each other in a moment of pure joy and disbelief. Not only did we catch a musky on the fly, but it was a giant one. I’ll never forget that moment and I can’t thank Kevin enough for having me up and putting me on that fish.

I laughed sporadically as we rowed out to the take out. Musky had seemed like this unobtainable thing for so long. I could not believe that my first musky would be of that caliber. The whole experience felt so surreal and serendipitous. We headed back to Kevin’s place before my red eye in the morning. The two of us celebrated our success with a spectacular dinner that consisted of a Wagyu porterhouse steak, homemade pierogi, and plenty of drinks. I left the next morning completely content and ready to embark on the next phase of my life as a dad.

Musky have encompassed the beginning and end of our pregnancy. The first musky ushered in the conception of our child. As we released the musky I caught in New York I had the overwhelming feeling that the musky gods were blessing the imminent birth of our first child. Could I be over romanticising these series of events? Sure. Even though the dagger toothed musky is not what most people would imagine as an anthropomorphic guardian of their child, because it bookended our experience as fledgling parents nothing seemed more suitable to us.

There were many uncanny parallels between the odyssey for my first musky and our journey to become parents. Both took around two years to come to fruition. There were highs and lows along the way. Parenthood, like musky fishing, will test us physically and mentally and I’m sure it will be frustrating at times. However, just like when that first musky hit the net, parenting will be fulfilling when it all comes together. My experiences in the pursuit of these fish have readied me for the new phase of my life and looking forward, I feel up to the task. Thank you Mother Musky.