When even the most prepared angler must consider, ‘That’s why they call it fishing and not catching’

Strawberry Reservoir • I thought we did everything right.

My mother-in-law, daughter and I went to Strawberry Reservoir last week with dreams of victory. The ice was melting away from the edges, which supposedly draws large fish from the deeper parts of the reservoir toward the shore as the newly exposed water warms for the first time since fall. These conditions are reputed to be so great for shoreline fishing that anglers talk about this time of year as if it's a holiday season of enchantment and wonder, known as "Ice Off."

We didn't get a single bite.

Neither did anyone else we talked to who was fishing that day.

What?!

I'm not an experienced angler at all, but I've never fished an entire day without at least getting a bite.

It's not as if we didn't prepare. I sought advice from Alan Ward, lead fisheries biologist at Strawberry, who recommended I bring a variety of lures to imitate leeches and crayfish and other prey hatching in spring and catching the eye of a trout. Cast them out far, he said.

The folks at Fish Tech helped me go through a large bin of tackle I inherited, found the lures Ward suggested, and filled in the gaps in my gear. I left with an optimistically large net.

On the day we arrived, I went to the shop at Strawberry Bay marina for the latest reports of good spots. Someone on staff had just had a big night at the Soldier Creek Dam. Ward texted ice conditions at various spots to me that morning. My family and I fished at the dam, Soldier Creek Bay, the Ladders Day Use Area, and behind the marina store.

Nothing. I caught some seaweed and the plastic rings from a six-pack.

"What did I do wrong????" I wrote to my friend Brett Prettyman, who previously covered outdoor rec for The Tribune and is an expert fisherman now working for Trout Unlimited.

"That's why they call it fishing and not catching," he replied.

I recalled an ice-fishing workshop I went to in January, where fishing professionals described fish as sometimes being "in a negative mood."

I thought: A negative mood? They're fish! How moody can they be? Surely these aren't creatures with mysterious psychologies and complex latent memories and dreams about cigars. They aren't magical water sprites. There must be measurable factors that explain why sometimes they bite and sometimes they don't.

I called Ward back, expecting from a biologist some evidence-based insights on my fishing failure.

"That's why they call it fishing and not catching," he told me.

Before my head hit my desk, Ward continued to explain the array of forces that can steer fish away from the hooks. When Ice Off is fun, it's because there are hungry fish attracted to specific areas for specific foods. If another food source becomes available, they won't be hungry. If the ice blows around or melts at a bad time, locations may not be as desirable. If the sun doesn't shine, the exposed water doesn't get as warm and bug activity goes down.

That likely was a problem for my family last week, Ward speculated.

It's not that bad fishing is just a matter of magic or luck, he said. But the factors are so multitudinous, it may as well be.

"You have to just hit all of those conditions," he said. "That's why Ice Off can be a little bit tricky. Some years it works great, and other years it just doesn't."

The other issue may be one of expectations. Ice Off tends to produce irregular successes, Ward said.

"In watching forums and talking to other people, the consensus seems to be that … once every three or four years, all the conditions will be just right and you'll have a phenomenal day."

That day is the one that people remember and talk about, Ward said. Days like mine just fade into the memory void.

I can see how that ends up making a dud day seem like a matter of magic and mystery and the unknowable caprice of fish — especially after I finally saw one near the marina at the end of the day. I cast every lure I had in its direction. It repeatedly popped to the surface, as if waving at me in mockery.

"We call that 'getting the fin,' " Prettyman told me.

I don't know, it might have just been in a negative mood.