If you spent today working in an office, don't read this report, because it may cause you to quit your job! Merwin Lake was magical today. Not because we caught lots of fish -- we didn't, we only got one. But we had a 4,000-acre lake to ourselves. Not one other boat, not one jet sled, on the water -- only us. It was cool but not cold; I fished until dark in three tee shirts. It was raining up in the hills, but not on us; just a touch of drizzle, enough to kiss your face, but not enough to need rain gear. There was no wind for most of the day, so the lake surface was glassy calm, and looking into the water was like gazing into a crystal ball. And the fish -- the magic fish. There is never a time when muskies are less than amazing, wonderful, and thrilling -- but today Merwin's muskies were extra special. You're not supposed to be able to catch them when the water is only 63 degrees. The first magic fish charged out from a log and hit my lure 6 feet behind the boat. I saw him coming and set the hooks. He turned away and ran alongside the boat, but Mike was very quick getting there with the net. Moments after Mike swung him aboard, the fish thrashed and ripped apart my net. He was only lip-hooked and I freed him with the vise grips and, after photos were taken, freed him. He looked healthy as he swam away. This fish was only around 18 or 19 pounds, but he shattered my belief these fish don't bite in 63-degree water. I'm fishing Merwin this week with Mike Nielsen of Ariel and Tony Welch of Portland, and we had gone the first two days without a strike. This fish instantly erased all of our frustration and disappointment of the previous two days. This was around 2:15 p.m. Merwin's second magic fish made its appearance at 5:15 p.m. This fish followed Mike's lure first, then followed Tony's lure. What happened next was amazing, and you probably won't believe it, but I've got two witnesses. I had cast and was retrieving my lure when the fish surfaced, and with its head out of the water, swam parallel to the boat, jaws looking at us. I've seen muskies come out of the water before to look over my boat -- and me -- but this one had it's head out of the water for a good 60 seconds. He ran squarely into my line, which went into his mouth like a horse's bridle, and the fish went nuts. His back arched, his tail came out of the water, and his head tilted downward as he dove for the bottom. Fortunately, my lure was still about 6 feet away and he managed to spit my line without getting snagged on the lure. I'm a sportsman, and I want to catch (and release) muskies, not snag them -- so I'm actually glad this one got away. It was a thrilling moment and it's too bad we didn't have a video camera to capture it. Now I want to say something. I'm not a tiger musky expert. No one is. Before we started fishing this morning, I told Mike and Tony you can't pattern muskies, because these fish are individuals, and just when you think you know what they're going to do, they go and do something different. They're unpredictable. So we fish even when we think they're uncatchable, and we learn to expect the unexpected. Mike, Tony, and I are all retired guys, ranging in age from 59 to 70, and we've all had enough health problems to understand that every fishing day is a gift. We've paid our dues and don't work anymore, we go fishing now, and we understand that every day on the water is precious. Days like today don't come often, and sometimes only once; and that's my report for today.

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