A long morning of ice fishing and a stretch of empty hooks melted away as a dedicated fisherman pulled a thrashing walleye from a foot-wide hole in the ice of Grand Lake.

“You caught the Walter!” crowed Nathan Kowalski, 14, as his friend and fishing mentor gleefully wrestled the big fish, taking the hook from its mouth and holding it up with pride.

It wasn’t the biggest fish Jonathan Wieczorkowski had caught. But it was a fine find on a February Saturday morning when the biting hadn’t been good.

Slipping the fish into a white bucket full of water and the other catches of the day, Wieczorkowski went back to the business of tending the nine holes he’d been working all morning, equipped with the energy of youth and nearly two decades of experience.

News Photo by Julie Riddle A surprise catch at the end of the day, a perch dangles at the end of a line, pulled from the depths of Grand Lake as an ice fishing tip-up was being put away for the day. The fish lived to swim another day.

The gregarious 18-year-old caught his first bluegill when he was a year old, family legend has it. He’s spent a lifetime at the elbow of his father and grandfather, learning the fisherman’s life.

“I’m hard-pressed to find time to sleep,” Wieczorkowski said, describing busy days of full-time work and early college classes through Alpena Community College. He finds time to fish, though, rising before dawn Saturday mornings to ease onto Grand Lake, a stone’s throw from his home.

A nearby bait shop has the best minnows at the best price in Michigan, Wieczorkowski said as he scooped flashes of silver into a bucket in the single-bulb-lit pre-dawn darkness.

A phone call to cajole Kowalski out of bed had landed a fishing partner, and the two soon set off through the open spaces of the frozen lake on a sturdy four-wheeler, barely-awake homes winking from the shore.

Veering toward the middle of the lake, Wieczorkowski stopped every 10 feet, drilling a hole to check the ice thickness. There’s been a lot of open water this year, he said, and it pays to be careful.

News Photo by Julie Riddle Warmed by the flames of a gas heater, Jonathan Wieczorkowski inspects his catch on a recent February morning, sheltered from Grand Lake winds by a pop-up shanty. The big ones must have moved to another part of the lake, he conjectured.

That lesson was reinforced a few weeks ago, when an ice fisherman who didn’t know the area went through the ice near Wieczorkowski’s house.

The man who went into the ice was saved by the strong arms of his fishing companions and the quick action of the East Grand Lake Fire Department.

Wieczorkowski later helped the man haul his snowmobile from the floor of the lake and rescued his fishing supplies, an act of kindness Wieczorkowski shrugs off as something anyone would have done.

This Saturday, the ice was plenty thick. Reaching the perfect fishing spot, Wieczorkowski got to work drilling holes, three for each person in the party. He knows how to find the good spots, he said, the aggregate wisdom of generations before and also a hefty portion of personal research teaching him how to read the water and wind and think like a fish.

The youngest captain in the Alpena Steelheaders Club who has claimed his share of victories at fishing tournaments, Wieczorkowski expertly baited each hole with a tip-up, a simple device that sends a flag springing to attention at the tug of an inquisitive fish at a line dangling into the depths.

News Photo by Julie Riddle Rising before the sun, young fishermen Nathan Kowalski and Jonathan Wieczorkowski set tip-ups atop neatly cut holes on a recent Saturday ice fishing expedition.

Most Saturdays net a good-sized haul of fish, Wieczorkowski said, reminiscing with a gleam about the time they caught 100 walleye in a day. He long ago learned the family rule: If you catch it, you clean it. He cooks all the fish he catches, sharing liberally with friends and family.

He and his grandfather used to fish every day all summer long, Wieczorkowski said. When his grandfather lost mobility some time ago, Wieczorkowski learned a new way to cook his catches so his grandpa could eat the fish he loved.

Less than a minute after it was positioned, the first flag popped up.

“Go!” Wieczorkowski said, and Kowalski scurried to check the line. That’s the plus of fishing with a younger learner, Wieczorkowski said. They’ll do some of the running.

Far from a sedentary sport, ice fishing is an energetic endeavor, at least for the young. Wieczorkowski and Kowalski sprinted from hole to hole as flags sprang skyward, sometimes all in a tumble as invisible fish underfoot investigated the dangling lines.

News Photo by Julie Riddle A young ice fisherman watches over a hole in the ice of Grand Lake on a wintry Saturday morning.

“Get good grades. It will get you a long way,” Wieczorkowski admonished his fishing partner parentally between sprints. A hard-working, busy young man who helps lake residents with their heavy docks in fall and spring, he has no patience with smoking or drugs or not doing your best.

A collection of not-too-big fish grew in the white bucket, pretty black-and-yellow perch having their last swim before dinnertime.

“Come on, big fat fish!” the experienced fisherman urged as he crouched near a hole, engrossed in the hunt.

On his phone, he has a thousand photos of fish, he said, and he could tell the story of each one.

Dainty fox footprints crisscrossed the snow-brushed ice. During the night, they come out to nab leftover minnows, Wieczorkowski said.

Below, in the dark depths, the prey lost interest, and for a time, the flags lay quiet. A crow’s caw lay on top of the wind.

Then, the crunch of boots running said another flag was up. Another silver-flash minnow had enticed a hungry mouth, and another hole needed to be checked.

Julie Riddle can be reached at 989-358-5693, jriddle@thealpenanews.com or on Twitter @jriddleX.