Burbot spark lakefront fishing in winter
It's not unusual to have crowding in late afternoon in downtown Milwaukee.
Mostly, though, it pertains to commuters in vehicles on the interstate system.
Thursday at 3:30 p.m. there was a happy twist on "rush hour," this one thanks to a tenacious native fish and the community of anglers.
Dozens of fishermen congregated along the Milwaukee River in the stretch below I-794.
In a physically-distanced arrangement that is based in civilized outdoors code but would also please Anthony Fauci, every 15 feet or so a rod rested against the red railing atop the bulkhead.
The anglers stretched from the footings of the Hoan Bridge east about 200 yards to the red light house that marks the river's mouth.
What, you may ask, were they after? Yellow perch? Brown trout? Steelhead?
All are favorites of Wisconsin fishermen, and all are found periodically in this stretch of water, but none have drawn such a crowd in more than a decade.
These anglers were after a resurgent native species that is increasingly valued by the fishing public for its sport and food quality: burbot.
At 3:35 p.m. one of Jay Mei's rod tips quivered and then bowed deeply toward the water.
"That's a bite!" said Mei, 55, of Chicago, as he raced to grab the rod.
Mei reeled and pulled; the fish bulldogged toward the middle of the river channel.
After 7 minutes of to-and-fro the fish was at the surface and a nearby angler slipped a long-handled net under its sleek, spotted body.
"That's a beauty," Mei said as he unhooked the 28-inch-long, approximately 7-pound fish.
It was a burbot, also known as eelpout, lawyer and freshwater cod.
Mei wasn't the only successful fisherman in the group. A look down the line of anglers revealed four others battling fish at the same time. All landed burbot. It was enough to make my heart glad. I grew up in Racine and spent many days of my youth casting into the Lake Michigan waters in that city's harbor and along its shore.
At the time yellow perch were my primary target. The golden-flanked fish, for decades a staple of the commercial fishing industry, were arguably the most important native fish species in the Big Pond.
From the late 1970s to the early 1990s, good catches of perch were routine for anglers on piers in Lake Michigan.
Seasonally coho and chinook salmon and brown and rainbow trout also provided good shore fishing opportunities.
But the lake's perch population has been decimated over the last 30 years by the significant changes in the ecosystem wrought by invasive species, especially quagga and zebra mussels.
Once hundreds of fishermen lined the Milwaukee piers to catch perch; now it's rare to see more than a couple at a time.
And as the filter-feeding mussels have made the lake's water clearer, shore fishing for trout and salmon has become tougher.
So to see a large gathering of anglers in downtown Milwaukee for any reason was a positive. To see them catching fish was better yet.
And to have the burbot the center of attention was best of all.
Burbot haven't garnered many headlines, but it's a species that deserves our respect.
Burbot and lake trout were the two top native predator fish in the Great Lakes, according to the U.S. Geological Survey.
Historical records indicate burbot were among the catches of early settlers of Jones Island in Milwaukee and were later targeted by commercial fishermen.
But after sea lampreys entered the Great Lakes, the burbot population in Lake Michigan collapsed between 1930 and the early 1960s.
Once sea lamprey control was implemented, burbot began a comeback.
But unlike lake trout, which were raised and stocked by the tens of millions by federal officials over the decades, the humble burbot was left to fend for itself.
Its recovery has increased in the last couple decades as the population of nonnative alewife (which eat burbot fry) has dropped.
And, in a piece of poetic, natural justice, the rise in burbot numbers in recent years has been fueled by the native fish's ability to feed on the round goby, a relatively new aquatic invasive species that has inundated benthic, or bottom, habitat in much of the lake.
Diet studies in the last two decades have shown burbot feed heavily on gobies.
"Burbot just vacuum the gobies up," Jude said. "They are responding to a new opportunity."
So burbot not only survived the onslaught of invasive species over the last 75 years, but have successfully adapted in the face of change.
Some may not think the eel-like burbot is attractive. I happen to think they are beautiful.
Each has a unique, mottled pattern on its smooth skin. A single barbel dangles from its lower jaw.
The barbel, as well as thin extensions on its pectoral fins, help detect prey in deep, dark waters.
The burbot is one of only three Great Lakes species (the others are bloater chub and deepwater sculpin) to breed in winter.
So this time of year they are found in higher numbers in the Milwaukee Harbor and river as part of a spawning congregation.
As anglers have learned, burbot are active feeders and fight hard.
I caught my first one incidentally 25 years ago on an ice fishing outing for brown trout and walleyes on Green Bay near Sturgeon Bay.
But I've also targeted them on Minnesota waters, where the fish has been revered for 40 years at the International Eelpout Festival on Leech Lake. The threeday event typically draws more than 10,000 people to tiny Walker, Minnesota (pop. 1,069).
And over the last decade I've taken a few early winter outings each year at the mouth of the Milwaukee River to cast for the feisty native.
The most productive tactic is very similar to what is commonly used for channel catfish: a stout rod and 12-pound or heavier line to fish cut bait on a large hook. The rig is typically weighted with 1 ounce or more to keep it on the bottom.
Large shiner minnows, cut in half and with both pieces on the hook, are a productive burbot bait. I've also had success with large fathead minnows and frozen smelt.
Burbot action is often best at dusk and into the first couple hours of darkness.
In all my years of fishing on local waters, however, I have never seen as many anglers seeking burbot as I did Thursday.
Justin Hoffman, 25, of Oak Creek and his brother Noah, 15, of Tichigan, were set up near the base of the Hoan.
About 3:40, one of Justin's rods began dancing and he set the hook to a lively resistance. Minutes later the Hoffman's had landed the first burbot of their lives.
"I'm a big walleye, bass and northern guy," Justin Hoffman said. "But if these burbot provide a new opportunity, I'm all for it."
The Hoffman brothers were looking forward to a meal of burbot with a timetested recipe: cut the filets into chunks and boil them briefly in 7-Up. When served with drawn butter, the fish tastes like lobster.
The word is spreading among the angling community. Burbot are back.
If I could change one thing about the status of burbot, it would be their classification as a "rough fish" in Wisconsin.
There is no way this native survivor belongs on a list with Asian carp, common carp, goldfish and sea lamprey.
It's time for the Department of Natural Resources to add burbot to the list of sport fish in the state.
As the crowd assembled along the Milwaukee River attests – this fish has got game.