Northwoods Sporting Journal > Articles > Featured Articles > March: The Second February

March: The Second February

BY Mike Maynard

“April is the cruelest month…”

– T.S. Eliot

 

March. If only it were that simple. There isn’t much to recommend the month; it’s a mistake. March is a cold and empty nothingness; a malignant iceberg in the sea of winter. The kindest thing I can say about it is that it’s that much closer to April. Not that April is any prize either; not up here anyway. My happiest memories of March, and there are a couple, are the days at the end of the month that gave us the brilliant blue sky, blazing sunshine, and temperatures that put one in mind of May. The ice was still solid and I was drilling holes in a T-shirt (drilling holes in the ice, not my shirt).

There have been very few days like that over the years, but those few float through my memories like flashing neon. To paraphrase the song, the future was so bright we had to wear shades. Ice blindness and the first sunburn of the year are the things I carried home from those weekends. We walked out of camp in the morning and never went back inside until the light finally played out. Magical stuff. I have no memory of catching fish on those bluebird days; the fishing was secondary at that point.

I can remember the gist of the conversations though. Sitting on the old wooden tote sled, drinking beer, and gassing away about opening day, just a day or so away. We were so young. So much optimism. We babbled about the new patterns that were tied over the winter and how we couldn’t wait to use them. We talked about trolling newly tied streamers along the last of the ice shelves. We made plans to fish every lake and pond in The County.

A Mirage

But it was all a dream, a mirage. I woke up that Monday morning, still riding the endorphin high of the weekend, and March punched me in the face on my way to the bathroom; it was -10 below zero and winter hadn’t gone away after all. Back then, I would take a black Sharpie and scribble out the word ‘April’ on the calendar, and write ‘February’ in its place. A useless and futile gesture, but it had to be done. I might even start doing it again. I’ve always made the long trek down Rt.1 to Grand Lake Stream every April first, for many reasons. Firstly, because of the tradition. Secondly, because there is no fishing to be had up here. None. By the time April 1st rolls around I’ve already chewed one arm off in desperation and I’m working on the other one.

Now, that’s not to say that opening day at GLS is a picnic, it isn’t. I’ve showed up there in rainstorms that bordered on the Biblical. Hurricane wind-driven sleet. I’ve shown up when I had to do my best Sir Edmund Hillary imitation just to get over the snowbanks and down to the water. Usually I’ll make a few half-hearted casts, and then hire a sherpa to help me back up the mountain of snow and ice. I like to sit on the tailgate drinking coffee, watching other people fish, and talking to old friends who I only run into once a year. Or maybe twice a year if we all show up at the Cabin Fever Reliever in Brewer. I almost never catch anything, but it doesn’t matter. The important thing to remember here is, it isn’t March! The long, painful slog through another County winter is drawing down, …maybe. Yes, just 4 hours north of GLS it’s still behaving like February but the end is in sight, or so they tell me. I used to believe them; now I want proof of life.

I have friends all over Troutdom who like to rub my nose in their late winter fishing. My son is the worst. He likes to shoot me pictures of where he was fishing previous year on April 1st. Last year it was the Deerfield . Nice picture, kid; oh, and by the way, you were adopted. One year on opening day I sent a picture back to him. It was a picture of me holding a fly rod, and standing on the still completely frozen and snow covered Beaver Brook.

April Fishing

I get so jealous. The rest of the world are fishing in March. And absolutely everybody is fishing in April. Except me. I sit here, staring out the window at this bleak and desolate March hellscape, and I pine away for the sight of bare ground; even just a small patch would give me hope in this, the hour of my deepest despair. I want to smell the wet, damp earth and see the first signs of spring. I want to see the first hint of skunk cabbage poking up through the thawing soil. Is that too much to ask?

“Why no, it isn’t too much to ask.” Say the Trout Gods. “Ask of us anything you wish!” …and then they giggle.

The Long Lake fishing derby, back in January, had -20 below temps and 35mph north winds all weekend. Do you know what the difference between those days and March 31st is? If you said, “None!” you’re right. God, I hate March.

For more articles about hunting, fishing and the great outdoors, be sure to subscribe to the Northwoods Sporting Journal.

Reader Feedback

The Northwoods Sporting Journal is the largest hunting & fishing magazine in the Northeast.

"Just want to complement all of you on an excellent magazine. I have my subscription sent to my office and have found that clients grab the Northwoods Sporting Journal first over the dozen or so other magazines in our waiting area.
I have enclosed subscriptions for myself and five friends that I think will enjoy your magazine. I especially like the Outdoor News sections for keeping up to date with statistics and changes going on in the state."

Jay Deane

"I used to subscribe to several outdoor magazines in the past until one day I picked up a copy of the NWSJ at LL Bean in Freeport, Maine. After reading the journal I have to say I never subscribed to any other outdoor magazine. The journal had it all and the thing is it only gets better every month! The articles are informative and very well written by what I consider experts in the field. I have to say if one does not subscribe to the journal or picks up a copy of the journal “they do not know what they are missing!” Unfortunately, I am not a resident of Maine but after reading the journal I feel I know more about your great state than my own regarding the opportunities of hunting and fishing, very good writers."

Tony Ostrowski

"Good morning, I have to write this…because your magazine deserves it.  Every couple last winters my family has gone up to Maine after Christmas for a couple days.  This always coincides with a stop at KTP, where I buy a copy of your magazine. Well, this Christmas I asked my kids for one gift, a subscription to NWSJ. I’m 57 years old, I grew up cutting and chopping cords of wood every year for my family’s two vermont castings stoves, and fishing and hunting extensively. especially loved tying my own flies and selling them in my local Connecticut hardware store when I was 12.  When not doing those things I was salivating over field and stream, outdoor life, fin and feather, you understand…those were great mags, but I don’t like how they’ve changed over the years…they’re selling to the masses now, not to who I think is their core audience. You guys are different, and good different.  You’re old school.  You actually do not care what people think of what you’re writing, and that reeks of important values like HONESTY, COMMON SENSE, PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY, AND KNOWLEDGE. Your articles are SO good that I refuse to read more than one at a time.  no joke; I leave each issue open on my kitchen table, and read one article a day.  Why? Because every single article is fantastic!  I don’t want to ruin the digestion of the last one by reading the next one too quickly…yes, you guys are that good. So here it is, my first feedback; you have the best outdoor magazine I have ever read..and will continue to read it till I can’t read. "

Alexander Pflomm

"I enjoyed reading Ms. AuClair’s article on Mount Katahdin. 
I had also enjoyed the mountain and knife-edge trail twice when I was in my late 40s - early 50s. It’s an unbelievably beautiful environment. The quiet is God-like. Thanks very much. Keep up the great reading. I look forward every month to the Sporting Journal."

Warren Seddon