Today I was driving from my home in Rochester, Minnesota to Brainerd, Minnesota (about 3.5 hours to the north) where I planned to spend the night at a Holiday Inn before an early morning (6am) guided muskie trip.

As I headed north, I checked iNaturalist to see whether there might be any fish in the area that were new to my species list. From what I could tell, the Hornyhead Chub was my best opportunity.

The tributaries of the Rum River are considered good habitat for Hornyhead Chubs, particularly around Princeton and Milaca, towns about fifty miles south of Brainerd. As I approached the area, I began looking for places where I could access the river.

It proved more difficult than I expected.

I drove from one possible access point to another, growing increasingly frustrated as each location turned out to be unsuitable or inaccessible. Eventually, I came upon the Rum River Canoe Access on 320th Street and decided to give it a try.

The river was fairly wide, perhaps one-hundred feet across, but quite shallow. Just downstream from the bridge, however, I found a promising stretch with a transition from a run into a series of riffles.

I rigged a size 10 hook with a tiny piece of worm and a small split shot. The split shot was so light that casting any distance was difficult, but I managed to get the bait into the transition zone between the run and the riffles.

Almost immediately I began getting bites.

The problem was that I wasn’t hooking anything.

I suspected that even a size 10 hook might be too large for whatever was nibbling at the bait. Then I remembered that I had some tiny hooks in my tackle box, probably around size 20.

Unfortunately, several obstacles got in the way. I had misplaced my reading glasses, the evening light was fading rapidly, and my six-pound-test line seemed too thick for the tiny hook eye. After several unsuccessful attempts to thread the line, I finally abandoned the idea.

I went back to the size 10 hook and kept fishing.

Eventually I hooked and landed a small fish, only four or five inches long.

I took a few photographs and uploaded them to iNaturalist. The identification algorithm suggested Creek Chub as the most likely species, with Hornyhead Chub as a secondary possibility. I reluctantly selected Creek Chub. After all, Creek Chub was already on my species list, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

But I did.

A little later, several experienced observers reviewed the photographs and concluded that the fish was actually a Hornyhead Chub.

My wish had come true.

Moments like this are what make species hunting so enjoyable. There is the anticipation of finding something new, the uncertainty of the identification, the quiet hope that the fish will turn out to be the rarer species, and then the verdict arrives from a group of knowledgeable naturalists. Sometimes the answer disappoints. This time it didn’t.

The Hornyhead Chub became species number 35 on my list, and the Rum River earned a special place in my 100 Fish Adventure.