As we walked onto the frozen Connecticut River near Hanover, we saw our friend and trophy angler Brandon Zeoli waving at us. Just then, a flag on a fishing trap popped up and waved right along with him. He had a fish! We ran to the hole in the ice, peered down, and saw nothing but a thin line trailing off under the ice. Brandon explained the drama that was going on at the other end of the line.

He said a pike had grabbed the large sucker he was using for bait and swam away with its prize to keep other pike from stealing it. Once alone, it would stop and spit out the sucker to bash its head against the ice and kill it. It would then swallow the sucker head first and continue hunting.

As if on cue, the previously static line twitched and began to run off the spool. Brandon grabbed the line and set the hook with a quick jerk. Slowly, he pulled hand over hand until an 18-inch pike was flopping at our feet.

We weren’t sure if Brandon’s story was true, but the fact remained that lying on the ice before us was a new species in our year-long quest to catch and eat every kind of freshwater fish in New Hampshire.

We could see that this predator was essentially a living spear with a long cylindrical body, a pointy head and a mouth full of teeth. No wonder “pike” is another name for a spear in old English. 

This physical design must work because it is replicated in the king mackerel, the great barracuda, the pickerel and the muskellunge. The pike’s narrow shape makes it appear deceptively small to hapless prey, while its long body packs the muscular punch to propel it forward with lightning speed. Pike generally lie in wait until an unsuspecting fish swims by and then, WHAM, lunch time.

A study by two British zoologists found that a pike usually pulls its body into an S shape before a strike and then snaps it straight like a cracking whip. The result is fast acceleration. On average, they found a pike can hit a target 12 inches away in about two-tenths of a second—not a lot of time for a sucker to get out of the way.

We’ve been after northern pike six times this year in the Connecticut, where the non-native fish enjoys its strongest foothold in the state. The river attracts big game anglers like Brandon, who has caught many trophy pike measuring well over 40 inches. He returned his 18-inch pup to the water, where it quickly swam out of sight.

We met Brandon through the Catch-M-All Facebook page and he took pity on us after reading about our repeated pike failures. He offered to take us to his super-secret spot, but under strict confidence. He would not even e-mail us the directions for fear of hacking. Instead, he gave us directions over the phone and made us swear to secrecy. 

Brandon drilled a bunch of holes in the ice before we arrived to make it as simple as possible for us. After all, his reputation was at stake. We picked one of the holes to set our first trap, a twisty contraption made of wood that suspends a spool of heavy line attached to a steel leader and baited hook. If the spool turns, a spring steel flag pops up. Clay baited his hook with an eight-inch white sucker, impaling it behind the head. Our dreams were pinned to the shoulders of this young sucker.

As the sucker sank below the ice, a flash shot across the hole and it was gone. Clay felt tension on the line and set the hook hard. Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he hoisted the fish onto the ice in one smooth motion. It was the biggest freshwater fish Clay had ever caught. Could success have come this easily? 

Holding the fish, Clay danced with excitement as Brandon trotted over to help. Clay wondered out loud if it was a keeper, meaning it exceeded the 28-inch legal limit. Brandon silently pulled out the tape measure to confirm the answer his seasoned eye already knew. “Twenty-five,” he said. 

Three inches shy, Clay stopped dancing. We took a few pictures, admired the fish’s beauty and sent her down the hole. It was still early in the day, so we set the rest of our traps, a total of 17, which made us think our odds were pretty good. 

We fished and fished for hours and nothing happened. Brandon encouraged us to give it a few more minutes. Once again, as if on cue, the call “FLAAAAAG!” echoed across the ice. 

Clay ran to the trap to see the line running under the ice and then it stopped. After waiting a bit, Brandon suggested setting the hook. Clay gave the line a quick jerk and pulled. He felt a much heavier fish than his 25-incher. This was our trophy!

After a tough hand-to-fin battle, he got the fish to the hole and saw its face. It saw Clay’s mug, too. Apparently, the sight of his maniacal grin put the fear of God into the fish, and it turned tail for deep water. The unexpected bolt was too much for the fishing equipment and the pike snapped free.

Our hearts sank along with the broken gear. On closer inspection, we noticed that the line didn’t break, but the brass snap swivel that attached the leader to the fishing line failed—an unlikely weak link in the chain. Bummer.

Brandon smiled and said, “That is pike fishing.” We decided to call it at day and declared northern pike (Esox lucius) fish number 35.5. We don’t have much time before our deadline arrives, but we have vowed to try again for pike. Follow us on Facebook or check www.catch-m-all.com to see if we get our fish.