If you know Arliss Reed at all, you probably know him for luring ducks into range, not walleyes onto the ice. As the head guide at Habitat Flats, The Grand, Reed is far more recognizable with a duck call around his neck than a rod in his hand. But when Reed trades feathers for fins, he still knows how to put a serious bend in the rod.
Reed’s fishing roots run deep, well before his days of guiding waterfowl hunts in the Midwest. And like a lot of folks, he’s got a soft spot for walleyes.
“I grew up in northern New York,” Reed told Wired2fish. “It may not be northern Minnesota, Manitoba, or Ontario, but it’s walleye country.” His early days on the ice didn’t involve a whole lot of finesse, though he wouldn’t have traded the time on the ice with his dad for anything. “Unfortunately my dad’s idea of ice fishing was punching five tip-ups into the ice and hoping for the best,” Reed said with a laugh.
He grew up enamored with walleyes, his admiration bolstered by the big one his grandma had hanging on the wall.
“My grandmother caught a 10-pound walleye in Canada before I was born,” Reed said. That fish left an impression on a young Reed, and it still does today. “That mount is one of my earliest memories of her house growing up. Fortunately, it now hangs in my camp in northern New York. I never thought I’d catch one bigger.”
Even after moving to Missouri a decade ago, Reed never lost touch with his hardwater roots.
“I moved to the Midwest 10 years ago, but I try to make a trip home every January to target walleyes and perch,” he said. But ditching the tip-ups and getting serious about jigging was a fairly recent development. “It wasn’t until about five years ago that I got serious about jigging for them,” Reed said. “That’s when things really changed.”
He had been close to double-digit ‘eyes before, but hadn’t closed the deal himself.
“Last year I took my uncle, who had never caught a keeper walleye in his life. He caught a 26-inch and a true 30-inch walleye back to back sitting next to me in my shack,” Reed said. Meanwhile, Reed watched from a few feet away. “The biggest I had ever caught was 24 inches. I felt unbelievably blessed just to be in the presence of fish like that, but I never really thought I’d catch one for myself. Kind of a great white whale scenario, if you will.”
That all changed this winter when opportunity knocked.
“This year, I got the invite from a local guide to hit a spot he’d been wanting to pre-fish before he started taking clients,” Reed said, careful not to disclose the exact location, though he mentioned it is a spot that doesn’t typically freeze. The deep freeze presented a unique opportunity, and he went for it: “I couldn’t pass it up.”
The day started off well, with a respectable walleye coming up from the depths.
“The first fish I put on the ice was a 20-inch keeper. Then, I caught a 25-inch male that had been attacked by something much bigger than him,” he said. That fish went back down the hole. “I released him and wished him well.” Then came the mark he will be telling his grandkids about.
“The next mark came up slow and just got heavy before I even knew what was happening. I set the hook on a #7 black and silver Jigging Rap tipped with a whole fathead, and the fight was on,” Reed recounted. Fishing alone inside his shack, he was glad he thought ahead. “By myself, I was really glad I’d drilled three 8-inch holes in a cloverleaf pattern. That made landing such a big fish a lot easier.”
When the fish finally slid onto the ice, he knew it was “the one.”
“Once I landed her, I hollered for my buddy to come snap some pics. We took some measurements and sent her back to the depths.” The numbers were what he’d been dreaming of.
“Twenty-nine inches long, 17.5-inch girth. Just shy of 12 pounds. I never thought I’d catch one bigger than my grandma’s fish,” he said. “But last week I was fortunate enough to land this big girl.” As for the fish? “She’s still swimming,” Reed said. “And I’m trying to decide on a replica or not.”
For a guy better known for calling ducks than chasing walleyes, Reed’s great white whale finally came full circle. Whether it’s flooded timber or frozen lakes, one thing is clear: Arliss Reed may be famous for luring greenheads but when the moment comes, he sure knows how to put a bend in the rod.
