The extreme fishermen on the hunt for a prehistoric monster in Wisconsin
What drives a community to a frozen lake every February, armed with just spears and multiple layers of clothing, to hunt a giant fish? James Rampton finds out
Stuart Muche, one of the Frozen Chosen, a group of extreme ice fishermen from Wisconsin, reveals how some people view the group: “Most of those who do not get involved in this probably think we’re absolutely crazy … They might be on to something there!”
Why might people question the good sense of the Frozen Chosen, then? Let’s cast our net in pursuit of an explanation.
Each February, for a 16-day period, a legion of astoundingly resilient hunters, equipped only with 7ft handmade spears, multiple layers of clothing and an indomitable sense of optimism, descend on the enormous frozen Lake Winnebago in Wisconsin.
Their aim? To catch a fiendishly elusive, 300lb, prehistoric fish.
The giant lake sturgeon (Acipenser fulvescens) has changed little since the age of the dinosaurs, and Lake Winnebago holds the largest and oldest population of the fish in the Americas.
As you can imagine, these fishermen are a hardy breed. Every year, some 13,000 of them venture onto the frozen lake in a flotilla of all-terrain vehicles, causing traffic jams of up to two miles. They drag onto the ice tiny metal huts called shanties, where they live in exceptional discomfort for six hours a day over two bitterly cold weeks. The temperature is low enough to freeze a can of beer in a matter of minutes.
The hunters lift a trapdoor in the floor of the shanty to chainsaw through the 3ft-thick crust of ice and create an opening the size of a flatscreen TV. They then sit and wait as they try to spear a fish through the hole in the ice. And wait. And wait.
It’s definitely not as easy as spearing fish in a barrel. “It’s like duck-hunting through a chimney,” says Paul, Stuart Muche’s brother.
But the Frozen Chosen are never daunted. Possessed by the invincible spirit of Captain Ahab, they exhibit a formidable sense of patience. The fish are incredibly evasive. Many hunting families have been coming to Lake Winnebago for decades without even seeing, let alone spearing, a giant lake sturgeon.
The whole venture is almost akin to a religious quest – hence the name.
The exploits of these out-there anglers are captured in an engrossing new documentary, The Frozen Chosen: Extreme Ice Fishing, which is out now on PBS America. Produced, directed and filmed by Steven J Boettcher, it’s a cross between Moby-Dick, Deadliest Catch and Ice Road Truckers. The documentary has already won an Emmy in the US; now it promises to hook audiences across the UK.
Many of the Frozen Chosen refer to the experience of spearing a giant lake sturgeon in hushed, reverential tones, even tearing up when they talk about the fish
What drives this most unusual band of hunters? “It’s about passion,” says Boettcher. The producer, who hails from Appleton, Wisconsin, just up the highway from Lake Winnebago, adds: “This is the only place on the globe where you can do sturgeon-spearing. No other place is like this, and our people have so much passion for it.
“Even if you drive up to the lake in the summer time, you’ll see the taverns are all named after sturgeon,” he says. “The fish are also on all the bumper stickers on the back of the trucks. These people wait all year for this 16-day season.”
Spear-fisherman Kevin Schumacher, one of the stars of the show, echoes these sentiments, emphasising the locals’ undying devotion to this annual event. He began spear-fishing as a small child with his grandfather Al, who first hunted in Lake Winnebago in 1932 as a hungry young boy searching for much-needed food. The tradition has been passed down through Al’s 12 children.
Well into his late nineties, Al continued to lead the family fishing party onto the ice each February until his sad death last year. More than 50 of his clan from four different generations gather on the lake every winter, huddled around the sign they plant on the ice. The name on the sign? “Schumacherville”.
Schumacher, who, like all his family, goes fishing in a hat and a hoodie bearing the Schumacher name over the logo of a sturgeon, describes his hobby as a wonderful, long-standing tradition that is a great way of bringing the clan together. “Some people look at me say, ‘How can you do that year in and year out? To me, it’s boring.’
“But I tell them it’s a tradition that runs in my family, and I’ll do it for years to come. My kids do it and they love just to go out on the lake with us. It’s a huge thing for our family. My grandpa started it back in the great depression, and it’s grown huge since then.”
Schumacher, who himself waited a full 14 years before finally catching a fish, continues: “Nothing brings the family together like sturgeon-spearing. But it’s not about the fish, it’s about being out there with the family and being happy for everyone… I look at it as a family reunion that gets everybody together every year. Family means everything.”
Boettcher weighs in: “It’s in all their blood. It’s this bond which keeps families together. Also, when you’re on the lake, wifi reception is really bad, which is great for families. They can get off their devices and reconnect with each other.”
Many of the Frozen Chosen refer to the experience of spearing a giant lake sturgeon in hushed, reverential tones, even tearing up when they talk about the fish. Some regard a catch as the highlight of their life. According to Stuart Muche: “I’ve always considered sturgeon-spearing the Super Bowl of fishing … It’s the Super Bowl, it’s Christmas, it’s the Fourth of July. It’s everything, but in February!
“Nothing, nothing has ever given me the feeling like that morning when you’re out on the ice just before sunrise. It’s just a quiet, calm morning.” At that moment, he closes his eyes and shakes his head, lost in blissful reverie.
Spearing a sturgeon also endows you with special status amongst the Frozen Chosen. Overnight, it turns you into a Lake Winnebago rock star. Kendall Kamke, from the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, says that when you catch one of these highly sought-after fish, “you’re elevated and walking round a little taller because there are a lot of people who don’t get a fish, and there’s always a bit of shame when you come in with a really little one”. Clearly, size matters.
Schumacher cannot contain his excitement as he recalls finally breaking his duck and spearing his first sturgeon last year. “I’ve got my one fish, and I don’t care if I never get another in my entire life. It was the thrill of a lifetime, and it always will be the thrill of a lifetime. It was the greatest thing ever.”
There is a carnival atmosphere on the ice at the weigh-in for every fish. Schumacher says: “Once the fish is speared, yes, there’s a lot of partying that can go on. But the reward is in the journey prior to that.”
It must not be forgotten, however, that this is an inherently dangerous sport – sadly, fatalities are not unknown, as a handful of fishermen fall through the melting ice every year.
Sergeant Jeff Bonack, the dive team leader for the local Fond du Lac county sheriff’s department, warns: “The lake is like a polar bear: it looks all warm and fuzzy, but look out, because it will rise up and bite you … You walk out on frozen water, you need to bring some respect with you.”
Boettcher details the safety measures the fishermen have to adopt. “When you drive out onto the lake on day one, you learn immediately that this is a shifting body of water that has a vast surface area of 138,000 acres.
“Every rule you’ve learned about driving, you have to unlearn when you drive out onto the lake. You have to take your seatbelt off, and you roll your window down because you need an exit if it all goes bad. Many people have life jackets on and drive with their doors open so they have a quick path to escape.”
In addition, “You always have to remember that it’s not a road – it's ice and it’s shifting. There are stories of people going into their shanties and fishing for a few hours, and coming out to find that their vehicles have moved. That’s because the ice moves. A lot of people have lost life and limb during the season.”
To help each other, the Frozen Chosen lay down markers on the ice. They use old Christmas trees to direct fishermen who have become disoriented by the unending whiteout back towards the shore.
The history of the sturgeon in Lake Winnebago is fascinating. Some are reckoned to be over 100 years old. Seven feet long and weighing up to 300lbs, they are the size of a torpedo. Toothless bottom-feeders with a face that only a mother could love, they have been here since dinosaurs walked the Earth. As they glide apparently effortlessly through the water, they inspire a primordial awe.
In the mid-1800s, though, their future was very much under threat. They were highly prized for their caviar, and millions of them were slaughtered. By 1915 they were on the brink of extinction, until the state of Wisconsin passed a law forbidding the practice of catching them. That law was only relaxed when the fish became an essential source of food for people during the great depression.
Now the giant lake sturgeon has benefitted from one of the most successful conservation programmes in the world, and 20,000 of them come to spawn in rivers near Lake Winnebago every spring.
It also comes down to the basic gathering instinct that we all have, and I think that story resonates no matter where you live. It’s about the urge to hunt, and we all have that within us still
The local authorities in Wisconsin have imposed a strict cap on the number of sturgeon that can be caught, and the season comes to an abrupt end every February, the moment that figure is reached. Each of the Frozen Chosen is only allowed to spear one fish per season, and 90 per cent of them leave empty-handed.
The hunters do not wastefully chuck away the fish they do catch, either. Schumacher says that the 135lb sturgeon that he speared last year kept his wider family fed for 12 months.
Boettcher underscores the importance of the conservation effort. “This story doesn’t work unless there are two sides to it. The conservation aspect really nurtures the fish. In the film, Ron Bruch from the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources says it’s like managing an oak tree. These people spend their entire lifetime managing these fish, and they’ll never see the reward.” But it’s evidently an effort that is well worth making.
The annual gathering of the Frozen Chosen is an astonishing, unique event. The hunters’ sense of being on a communal mission is only enhanced by the fact that, as they sit shivering in their shanties, they all tune in to KF1Z, the dedicated local spear-fishing radio channel – a kind of “Sturgeon FM” – which broadcasts just two things: regular updates from the ice, and soothing polka music.
Boettcher says: “The prizes that the radio station give out for catching the largest fish include having your sump pumped out or your septic system cleaned out. The radio station is like a microcosm of that community.”
Perhaps the story of the Frozen Chosen strikes a chord everywhere, because even though it is about a very specific community, it touches on universal themes. Boettcher says: “It’s an amazing, amazing event. It’s about family traditions and we can all relate to that.
“It also comes down to the basic gathering instinct that we all have, and I think that story resonates no matter where you live. It’s about the urge to hunt, and we all have that within us still. It is so unusual, too. It’s not like deer-hunting or fishing for trout. It’s a really, really spectacular sport.”
The annual event also gives people the opportunity to enjoy the sort of close family gathering that was denied to us all for so long during lockdown.
Boettcher muses: “I think we’ve missed some of that recently in life. It reflects something that is so important to everybody. The crucial thing is that families all do it together. It’s not just a guy thing – it’s women, it’s kids, it’s everyone.
“The Schumacher family are a great example. Four generations go on the ice together. You see little ones, two or three years old, having the time of their life. They don’t know it yet, but that’s the family tradition they’re being introduced to and they’ll carry it on. The fishermen just love the lake. It’s home.”
There is one more Frozen Chosen tradition we must discuss: the desire some fishermen have to kiss the sturgeon they have just caught. Schumacher explains the hunters’ passion for what is objectively a deeply unprepossessing creature. “I love the fish! Yes, they are very, very ugly, but they are phenomenal.”
I cannot leave without asking Schumacher if he has ever kissed a sturgeon. “I have,” he replies, without hesitation.
Why?
“It just sometimes lands on Valentine’s Day!”
‘The Frozen Chosen: Extreme Ice Fishing’ goes out on PBS America at 7.45pm on Thursday 18 November
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