MONTICELLO — The Fish Whisperer seated in the front of the boat told us she was working her magic communication powers on the schools of fish passing beneath, convincing them with a secret siren song to sacrifice themselves to the anglers aboard.

Sometimes, Queen Alina made the fish lose their minds, falling for her mental telepathy, and other times the fish were resistant enough to stick to their own game plans.

In their heads, they might have known it was a matter of life and death, the concept of catch and release perhaps being just as fear inspiring.

The sun was bright and strong as summer rushed to an end and the water of the Tippecanoe River, feeding Lake Freeman, glistened as the boat guided by Heath Malone, aka Captain Q, paused in selected spots seeking to fool fish into jumping in. Or at least chomping on a lure carefully attached to 20-pound test in-between their dodging of jet skis zooming overhead.

Whether for water recreation or other amusement, such as an amusement park, Monticello has long been a lure for humans who wish to play on Lake Shafer and its twin Lake Freeman. All in all, anglers, pontoon boat cruisers and jet skiers were not really allowing the fish to swim in peace.

An easy drive north from Seymour and Southern Indiana, and south from Chicago, Shafer and Freeman are marked by good-sized signs seeking to steer automobiles off I-65. For years, I wondered about the fishing there and they are little slices of paradise.

One lake at a time, 10 days apart, I determined to finally find out before winter showed itself. An angling friend predicted I would catch so many fish on Freeman the powers that be would change its name to Lake Freedman. Not quite.

“I like fishing for everything,” Captain Q said. “I get excited catching anything.”

That was the mindset I brought to the lakes. I was after action.

So were other anglers who inhabited 1,291-acre Shafer on our four-hour excursion. A bass tournament took place simultaneously, recommendation itself about the plentiful nature of that species on the lake.

Once the gun sounded, some 40 bass fishermen disappeared to favorite corners of the lake and stayed away from Malone’s new 18 ½-foot boat. Let them have the bass. We’d take everything else.

Lake Shafer is a reservoir created in the 1920s when a dam was installed on the Tippecanoe River. The shore is lined by numerous homes and seasonal cottages, but the real landmark is the Indiana Beach Amusement Park and Camp Resort.

The park was owned by one family from 1926 to 2008. It is now under different ownership, but from a fishing boat one can view a roller coaster rolling and other rides. The Shafer Queen, not to be confused with Queen Alina, (who in another life is Mrs. Malone), is described as a classic, old-style paddle boat providing tours of the lake. Don’t think you can fish from it, though.

Monticello is a community of 5,500 in White County that provides access to both lakes. For those driving between Indianapolis and Chicago and otherwise never exit the interstate, the route to that small city goes right past the eye-catching Meadow Lake Wind Farm turbines with their science fiction-like appearance.

Malone, 42, of Rensselaer, works full-time weekdays in another world, and guides weekends. Fishing is his passion. One of his all-time trips was taking a mother and two kids out and catching 38 channel catfish in four hours.

“They wore me out,” Malone said.

I did not. We had four rods out trolling, and caught five fish, mostly at a depth of 12 feet. The first hit was a crappie that was shiny and about 13 inches long.

“That’s a real good crappie,” Malone said.

We started with an air temperature of 68 degrees and some cloud cover, but the sun burned through and the temperature graduated to the high 80s.

A walleye came in with a minimal fight, then a sauger, which was a bit feistier. It measured 19 ½ inches.

“Sauger are an excellent eating fish,” Malone said. “Just like a walleye. Just as good. That’s a really beautiful sauger.”

We freed fish caught without debate.

“Old-timers want to keep fish,” Malone said. “They grew up that way. When they catch fish, they want to keep it and eat it. I fish so much I feel like I can affect the population. If it’s over 20 inches, I always release them.”

Tippecanoe and Freeman, too

Lake Freeman, also established by damming a couple of years after Shafer, is 1,500 acres large with 50 miles of shoreline and on Labor Day it seemed everyone in a 20-mile radius was taking a last swim of summer, fishing for the final fish of the season, or simply boating every which way.

Freeman has the Madam Carroll, its own touring party boat that is the largest registered boat in Indiana. At some 135 feet long and weighing 300 tons, this vessel may be bigger than Noah’s Ark and can accommodate 500 guests at a time, although not necessarily two-by-two.

The holiday crowds nudged us a short distance away to the Tippecanoe River. The scenery (minus the amusement park) was similar to Lake Shafer, though with seemingly more large homes facing the placid water.

Captain Q wanted us to wrestle a heavy, fighting flathead catfish, but I was happy hooking anything. Queen Alina, introduced as Malone’s first mate, was content to soak up the rays.

“I just like being outdoors,” Alina said. “I like fishing.”

As someone who has caught a 44-inch redfish in Florida and has a goal of catching a much bigger tarpon there, her husband’s view is, “Alina likes big fish.”

The Queen was fine with me reeling up the other species. She encouraged them to cooperate.

“There’s a wide variety of fish out here,” Malone said.

There were many types, mostly swimming in six-to-12 feet of water. The nights cooled in-between our twin lakes sojourns and Malone wanted to see water temperature below 70 degrees, but it reached 73 during this four-hour trip.

The hits on the line were subtle, but strong enough to bend poles. Walleye were hooked, a good drum, and channel catfish, too, one with the hook through its fin, a how-did-that-happen occurrence.

There were lulls initially, making us wonder if Labor Day was a fasting day for fish. That was until Queen Alina began her incantations. Suddenly, the pace picked up and I reeled in crappie, walleye, another channel catfish. None of them were hard fighters, seemingly resigned to an unknown fate. Queen Alina refused to divulge her patter.

“I can’t give you my secrets,” she said.

Malone didn’t care about specifics. “You need to keep talking to them,” he said.

At some point though, the fish stopped listening to the persuasion attempts. Still, we catalogued 13 fish, representing crappie, drum, smallmouth bass, walleye, channel catfish and a shad. Pretty darned good variety.

Plus, the trophy stick, as Queen Alina termed an extra-large piece of wood, or a “log salmon,” shaped like a wishbone. It provided the hardest reeling, but if a wish was provided, it would have been that I caught a flathead instead.