Louise Dolan, The Walleye

The ice remained on the surface of the lake until late spring.  Underneath, the stillness imposed by the frozen cover lasted into the days when the minutes of light outweighed the dark.  Deep below, the walleye swam lethargically amongst the dormant grasses and plants waiting for the first indicator that the long winter had come to a close; a shaft of light in the water from a crack in the ice along the shore.  That’s where it usually began, in water that was too shallow for the walleye to swim.  Sometimes a column of light might flash in deeper water only to vanish with the refreezing overnight.  But once sunlight began to filter in through fissures along the shoreline, the lengthening vernal days made quick progress on the rest of the lake.  Booms and piercing creaks signaled the rapid change from solid to liquid.  It wasn’t unusual for the ice to shift dramatically, large pieces moving in one direction and even heaving up upon themselves in a brisk wind.  This spring the sleeping lake awoke like a raging monster, bellowing and cracking, angrily resisting the rays of the sun that transformed it finally into a peaceful, serene body of water.

The sun always wins.  The light penetrated down into the crevices between rocks and down into the hollows behind crisscrossed logs that carpet the floor illuminating tiny particles suspended in the water and whetting the appetite of the walleye who feels hunger for the first time since the icecap darkened the lake last fall.  The walleye swam with newfound vigor and bit on anything that floated past her.  Her caudal fin flicked energetically, slashing through her icy world as she dove along a beam of sunlight that lit the rocks below. 

At the end of the first full day of light, the walleye found the wooden rowboat that had sunk many years before.  She stole up inside the overturned hull to rest, rocking gently on the lake’s almost imperceptible currents until her nocturnal appetite woke her to forage for food.

Soon different noises signaled the return of the other species that occupied the water during the summer months.  The visitors to this northern Wisconsin lake never ventured down into the depths where the walleye preferred to roam, although the man who lived near the sunken boat swam every morning, and in the late afternoon fished from the end of the dock where the floor of the lake dropped precipitously.  The walleye often visited the dock while he fished.

It was the same man every year.  He had pale skin and long thin appendages.  He swam with a surprisingly even stroke as he slid through the water.  The walleye trailed him, noting how his skin shimmered in the early morning light when he churned the water with his kicking.  The walleye swam in this effervescent stream, the bubbles tickling her.  When he emerged from the water, she ventured close to the surface alongside the dock and peered up at him.  

As he dried himself, she flicked her caudal fin and rippled through the water very near the surface, flashing her yellow eye and silvery greenish-yellow skin at the man.  Sometimes she even allowed her dorsal fin to rise above the surface of the water causing the man to point her way with his finger.

Each spring, the walleye stole up under the sunken boat and waited for the man to return.  Each year, she hovered alongside his dock, trailed him as he swam in the morning, and then in the late afternoon, when the light slanted into the water at a sharp angle, watched him fish.  He sat on the bench at the end of the dock and flung food bits into the water.  Other fish bit these morsels, and he hurled them out of the water to join him on the dock.  She wondered what it must be like for them to see him without bubbles swirling around his feet nor streaming from his nose.  How soothing to be held in his hands, stroked by his fingers, warmed by his body.  She dove deep, deep into the lake, wondering if she had the courage to bite his food bits?

After a series of dark days when water had streamed into the lake, the sun again sprinkled diamonds on the surface.  That morning, the man dove into the water and swam at a faster pace.  The walleye noticed the days were shorter, and the longer nights were cooling the water temperature.  When the man emerged from the lake and stood on the dock, the walleye hovered just below the surface, waiting for him to spot her.  

With a flick of her tail, she signaled to him.  

He pointed, smiling and nodding.  

Later that day, the man arrived before sunset.  He set his tackle box and bucket on the dock, and thread a plump, wriggling earthworm onto the lure.  Standing with his right arm raised above his head, he drew his fishing pole backwards then forwards in one sweeping stroke, releasing the bait into the water.  It sank slowly to about ten feet where it remained suspended with an exotic purple fly fluttering around it.  

The walleye peered from behind the last post of the dock, brushing her flank against the velvety algae.  In the distance, she spotted an approaching northern pike, streaking silver and flashing his teeth.  Knowing well this pugnacious marauder, she leaped forward, propelled by her strong caudal fin, and swallowed the bait.  A sharp, piercing pain burned inside her throat.  A line was connected to the food, and it pulled her up toward the surface of the water.  She pulled back instinctively, trying to dive deep, but the line kept jerking her toward the dock, toward the surface, toward the man. 

The man reeled the walleye in close to the end of the dock.  Reaching for his net, he crouched down to scoop the fish out of the water.  When he realized what he had caught, he went down on both knees and drew the fish out carefully.  Once he had her in the net, he lifted her out onto the dock.  The last rays of the sun glistened on her slimy, yellow-green body.  She flicked her gills as she gasped for breath.  The man carefully removed the hook and then stroked her long body.  He smiled, gently lifted the fish, then leaned out over the water to slide her back into the lake.

The walleye was stunned.  Dizzy from the lack of oxygen and still feeling pain from the hook, she swam down to colder water that would soothe her throat and slow her racing heart.  In the darkness she slipped through grasses that swayed gently as she passed.  She wondered why he had thrown her back when he’d never rejected any of the others?

Before long, the shortening days led to winter.  The walleye rested and dreamed and waited.  With spring’s arrival, the walleye rediscovered the overturned boat and nestled underneath.  The man returned and swam and fished.  The walleye decided to bite the food bit sooner this year.  As the man baited the hook that first afternoon, she swam impatiently in and out of the dock posts.  The minute that food hit the water, she charged at the bait.  Again, she resisted the line instinctively, pulling furiously toward the dark water below.  After a short struggle, the man pulled her into his net and lifted her from the water.  He smiled, laying her out on the dock where he gently removed the hook from her throat.  Stroking her side, he lifted her up into the air and gently slid her back into the dark water beneath the dock.   

Swimming again, though feeling dazed, the walleye drifted off towards the overturned boat.  From underneath, she watched as other fish were pulled from the water, never to return.  Her throat burned and she was short of breath.  She knew she should dive down to colder water, but she couldn’t make herself go.  It was almost dark; she slept for several hours until hunger woke her.

The next day, the walleye swam behind the man and flicked her tail at him after he had climbed up on the dock.  She saw him smile and point his finger in her direction.  She lifted her fin out of the water in answer. 

Later that day, when the food hit the water, the walleye charged it and swallowed it whole.  The line pulled, setting the hook deep into her flesh.  She struggled and gagged as the man pulled her toward the dock.  Disabled from the pain, she was unable to fight.  By the time the man scooped her out of the water with his net, she gasped for breath.  

He laid her out on the dock and tried to remove the hook, but it had set too deep.  He shook his head.  She looked up at the man.  Now she could see him without the water and the bubbles.  The golden afternoon sun lit his sandy hair and the blond lashes that encircled his hazel eyes.  She flapped her tail and flicked her dorsal fins.  He stroked her body, and she heard him make a low comforting sound. She rippled her glistening gills and she tried to flap her tail.  

Opening her mouth, she gasped for air and was desperately thirsty.  Her eyes bulged.  The sun dropped behind the roof of the dark green boat house, and the walleye dreamed that winter had returned, covering her world with an icy cap.