As fishing goes, the sturgeon spearing season on Black Lake may be the shortest in the country: Six fish long. Starting at 8 a.m. on Feb. 1, about 500 fishers hoped to throw spears at sturgeon passing under the ice until the sixth and final fish was caught 17 minutes later, the fastest season ever.
Spearing sturgeon requires a mix of luck, timing and technique. Austin Dreifuerst, a 30-year-old from Fond du Lac, Wis., had all three when he caught the largest of the six, a 78.3-pound, 67-inch sturgeon that was probably twice his age. He was named the 2025 Sturgeon King and received a trophy, cap and gown.
Soon after the season started, he saw a sturgeon pass through his ice hole “right in between my two decoys and I let him have it,” Mr. Dreifuerst said as a crowd took photos of his catch.
Most sturgeon are caught with hooks and lines, but fishers can use spears at Black Lake, which is about 15 miles south of Lake Huron, and the far larger Lake Winnebago in Wisconsin.
Poachers and overfishing depleted the stock of sturgeon in Black Lake, which is three miles wide and six miles long. About 25 years ago, the state began limiting the sturgeon spearing season to fish, not days.
The scarcity drove demand. Several thousand fishermen and friends travel from around the country to stay for a long weekend, which gives the area an economic boost.
“To be honest, it’s bigger than July 4 weekend,” said Jeremy Pasella, an owner of the 211 Bar & Grill in Onaway, a town of about 1,000 known as the Sturgeon Capital of Michigan. On the wall is a stuffed sturgeon and photos dating back decades. The season “is worth two weeks of business in the winter.”
Last year, the season was canceled because of a lack of ice on the lake, so larger crowds arrived this year. The line at 211 Bar & Grill stretched out the door.
Dan Brown has a cabin not far from the lake that he rents, mostly to hunters and fishers, as well as three ice shanties he and his friends built. He rents them mostly to out-of-town fishers and uses a chain saw to carve a hole in the ice, stocks the shanties with decoys, spears and other equipment, and turns on the heat before they arrive.
The extra income “pays for gas and fuel, and beer, and a couple trips to the 2-1-1,” he said, referring to Mr. Pasella’s restaurant.
After the season ended at 8:17 a.m., fishermen crowded into tents at the Black Lake Sturgeon Shivaree, a festival run by Sturgeon for Tomorrow, a conservation group. This year’s event included raffles, a Poker Run, a fishing contest and lots of Busch beer.
Outside, a whiteboard listed who speared each sturgeon and their weights and lengths.
“Catching a fish that’s six feet long can get you pretty excited,” said Jay Woiderski, president of the group. “Guys take them around to pubs and show them off and people buy them beers.”
Like other types of fishing, spearing sturgeon requires special equipment, including spears that look like a cross between a pitchfork and a trident. Some shanties are nylon and collapsible while others are wooden and metal structures akin to a small shed.
Roger Marsh, a former policeman who owns Onaway Outfitters, sold his last shanty in mid-January, income he welcomed after his business was hammered by the Covid-19 pandemic when the shivaree was canceled.
“The last two winters financially were dreadful,” he said. But “this winter has been great,” he added. “The fishermen are back.”
In the pre-dawn darkness an hour before the start of the season, the sounds and lights of snowmobiles and A.T.V.s ricocheted across the lake as fishers ferried their gear to their shanties. The frenzy gave way to silence as the sun slowly rose and the fishers took their places over holes in the ice.
At 8 a.m., the Michigan Department of Natural Resources sent a mass text announcing the start of the season. “Fishing season has officially begun — good luck!” it read. Three minutes later, another text arrived to say the first sturgeon had been caught.
Less than 15 minutes later, the final text message said the season was over. The snowmobiles and A.T.V.s began whirring again as shanties were pulled ashore. A few fishers lingered in search of pike, perch and muskie. Others tipped back beers.
Despite the hoopla around sturgeon spearing, Mr. Marsh, who loves fishing, did not see the attraction of sitting in the cold. Yet he acknowledged the allure of the season.
“I imagine there’s more than one libation that’s cracked open on the lake” after a sturgeon is caught, he said. “You got bragging rights for a whole year.”
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