It was a beautiful day as we launched the boat from the public ramp at the Fort Ouiatenon Park just outside West Lafayette, Ind.
Fishing in the area for shovelnose sturgeon had been fantastic for the past several days, but John and I knew the barometric high pressure weather front would make the fishing slow, at best.
What the heck – a bad day on the water usually beats the best day at work.

Just before we left, my sister-in-law Bobbi packed us two of her Dagwood-oversized sandwiches, along with sodas, bottled water, a full tray of brownies and a new, unopened can of Pringles. Along with a thermos of coffee, we were set for a hard day on the river.
Motoring up to the flats in behind the Lilly complex, John picked out a likely spot, and we dropped the two bow anchors, baited our lines and began to pass the time waiting for a hungry sturgeon or two.

The bite of a shovelnose sturgeon is little more than a tiny tap, like a very small fish. The shovelnose hovers over the nightcrawler and literally sucks the bait right off of the hook. Most people miss catching a sturgeon because of its light bite; the only hint of activity is a tiny flexing of the very tip of the fishing pole.

The first time I fished with my brother-in-law, John Malady, I thought he was going bonkers when he would suddenly rip the pole from the holder and attempt a hook set on the slightest of nibbles. As it turns out, John knows what he’s doing – hard sets on these tiny nibbles are the only way to catch a shovelnose.

Finally, John reared back and had a solid connection. I readied the net as John fought the 32-inch sturgeon to the boat. With a quick scoop, the fish was in the boat.

John turned to me and said, “Now, it’s your turn.”
Naturally, John caught about three more before I hooked my first. Having fed almost two dozen worms to critters swarming the bottom of the Wabash, I finally connected.

The rod strained and I could do little to even budge the fish. The drag was freely playing line, and I thought I had the granddaddy of them all.

Finally, I fought the fish to the surface about 15 yards behind the boat, only to hear John say, “You got a little one, and you foul-hooked it in the tail.” Sure enough, a scrawny 23-inch, sub-legal-length juvenile shovelnose hit the net.

After John unhooked it and verified its small length, he pitched it back, laughed and said, “Nice fish … maybe the next one will be more than 25 inches and you will hook it in the mouth, not the butt.”

Always the optimist, I baited up and pitched the rig back into the water.

Sipping coffee hadn’t done much to cure my hunger pangs, so I began shuffling for something to eat. Opening the big plastic travel box where John stores supplies and rain gear, I reached for an open can of Pringles and shoved a large handful into my mouth.
I quickly crunched down, swallowed and shoved another handful into my mouth. Suddenly, I noticed an unpleasant taste … a mounting and increasingly unpleasant taste, like Styrofoam soaked in rancid grease.

As I choked down the second mouthful, I said, “John, these Pringles don’t taste very good. I think they have gone bad!”
Snickering, John said, “I wouldn’t know why, Jack – those Pringles were fine when we opened them at deer camp two years ago.”
Gagging, I immediately gargled a hot mouthful of coffee, spit it over the side of the boat and set about re-baiting my fishing pole. As I cast, the line got caught on my finger and it flipped the bait around the boat. My second try made a splashdown about 40 feet behind the boat.

Still suffering hunger pangs, I rooted through the lunch supplies and found the pan of oooey-gooey brownies. By my second brownie, I was getting a little thirsty. Glancing down at my coffee mug, I saw there was a big string of gooey brownie goodness on the lip of the cup.

Always one for being tidy and mannerly, I picked the cup up and licked off the edge of the mug. Immediately, I began gagging.
John said, “What’s wrong now?”

Snort, hack gag! I went. “YUCKKKKKK … I just licked up a big wad of nightcrawler guts off my coffee cup!”

Seeing a bite, I then grabbed my fishing pole, gave it a hard yank and again foul-hooked a short fish in the butt. By now, John seriously doubted my angling abilities, as well as my dietary choices.

The score at the end of a great day on the water saw a total of nine shovelnose sturgeon. The two largest were a 32-inch female and a 33-inch male.

River-fishing for shovelnose will continue for a couple more weeks in the river flats around West Lafayette. My best advice for fishermen looking to tackle shovelnose on the Wabash River is to take plenty of bait, watch for very subtle bites, check the sell-by-date on your Pringles – and watch what you lick.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments can contact Jack Spaulding by e-mail at jackspaulding@hughes.net or by writing to him in care of this publication.