Photo by: Ron Sinfelt

Seasonal change is in the air -- and in the water. The second serious cold front of autumn will pass any day now. When the squeeze on walleyes' air bladders begins to ease about 36 hours later as the high pressure system following the cold front tracks away, the feeding window is thrown wide open in a bite that lasts 10 days to maybe two weeks.

Warm September afternoons are trumped by chilly September nights. It's a slow leak in an allegorical atmospheric tire that won't return to balance until water temperatures dip into the low 50s and the lake shakes out of turnover. Bait is plentiful and nervous as weedbeds begin to die off, thus concentrating the walleye forage base. Baitfish angst eases with the setting sun, when it's time to cruise out a short distance into open water and stretch the fins a bit. Ignorance is bliss. Native cunning didn't make it this far down the food chain. The baitfish school tightly in a herd mentality, not realizing that tonight it will suck to be a shad. Apache attack helicopters aren't the only predators that are green with night-vision capability. The walleye attack is swift and deadly. Flight is futile. Shallows are the anvil, walleyes are the hammer.

This is the end game in the natural scheme of things far too often. Predators farther up the food chain can eat cheeseburgers instead of walleyes. They are probably eating a cheeseburger while blaming the "tough bite" on too much bait in the water from a philosophic stool at a watering hole on the way home, oblivious to the drama that is unfolding just offshore as the sun goes down. The September bite can be tough as water temperatures plummet through the 60s into the high 50s. Too much bait in the water is a viable explanation after several frosty glasses of insight. "Those walleyes should be more active instead of lock-jawed," you tell cronies who nod in agreement.

This intuition about fish metabolism is absolutely correct. Walleyes are feeding heavily, but as is the case with many life-changing events, timing is everything. Walleyes aren't interested in your simmering crock-pot presentation when they sense that darkness brings the opportunity to swim right up to an all-you-can-eat buffet. On some stained waters and off-colored rivers, this dinner bell may ring during daylight. It's all about advantage, finding the easiest meal with the least amount of effort. If you can see the tip of a rod stuck in the lake when the sun is shining, smart money says the bite is at night.

We're at that time of year when stick baits are becoming more productive than big-bladed spinners in a trolling pattern. Deep-diving Rapala Husky Jerks, Rogues and Ripsticks may provide just enough action during daylight hours to convince you the fish are simply off their feed. But until you've spent an honest amount of time dragging the shallow-running counterparts of these lures from sundown until maybe 10 p.m. over the course of several nights, don't offer up some lame excuse like "too much bait in the water" or "the walleyes must have lost their teeth."