Saved The Best for Last

I hadn't foreseen this week when I made the assumption that the ice on my immediate local bodies of water was done for the season (The only waters I bother to put ice time into unless I'm really desperate, there's almost always an open water bite somewhere. If I have to travel anyway I may as well go somewhere I can fly fish). Temperatures dropped into the mid 20's during the day and single digits at night, and, though the edges were's perfect and the ice wasn't nice and hard and clear all the way through, there was safe ice again in the places I wanted to fish. I made for the pond late in the evening on Thursday, hoping I would catch the late day crappie bite window. I've been pursuing crappies since December and it has not gone well. One three inch crappie doesn't constitute a success to me. I got bluegill, some small perch, one big perch. No bass. No golden shiners either, which was a secondary goal. I didn't even get out for carp. I  didn't really have any memorable days... until Thursday.

I wished I'd had a vexilar. Not because I needed it but because I'm pretty sure that between the bottom and 1ft below the ice was more fish than water. That would have been pretty cool to see. I got out and cut the hole, dropped down a plastic tipped jig, then set the rod down with the bail open to cut another hole just a few feet away. I hadn't even started when I looked over and saw the rod tip going bonkers. I picked it up and set the hook, but but missed. Then I got slammed on the drop. I brought up a pretty good sized bluegill, which I released fast. I set the rod down, this time without dropping the jig down. and went to cut a hole a little ways away that I could release fish into. I had gotten the idea that I may have cut the first hole of a big pile of fish and I don't like releasing fish back into the school I'm working, it could put them all down faster. So I went 10 feet away, cut another hole, determined that it wasn't over fish, and went back to the first. My suspicions were confirmed. I was over a ton of panfish. I started catching bluegill, mostly of a fair size for this place, though there were a couple dinkers mixed in.

Then, some yellow perch joined the fray. I only caught a dozen and they weren't big, but they broke up the monotony of bluegills.

Then as the sun started to set, I started to catch crappies that were sitting towards the bottom. I had to sort of tease them up, but they, along with the bluegills and perch, continued to assault my jig on every single drop, even after the plastic tore off and I was too lazy to replace it. The crappie were doing up-bites: instead of a visible knock on the rod tip, I'd see my line slacken slightly. The crappies were taking the jig in an upward lunge and continuing to move up just enough to create that visible slack.

I didn't get any real slabs. But I got numbers. And that was a lot better than the zeros and one dink I had put up all winter until now. So, hell, I'll take it! I also caught something strange. I have to assume it's a hybrid sunfish. It must have redbreast in it given the body shape. The only other sunfish with that body shape in the system is rock bass, and I've never heard of them hybridizing with any of the other sunfish species in the system. So, I'm left with a big old question mark and probably a hybrid that I would have added to my life-list had it been caught on the fly. Ughh.

If you enjoy what I'm doing here, please share and comment. It is increasingly difficult to maintain this blog under dwindling readership. What best keeps me going so is knowing that I am engaging people and getting them interested in different aspects of fly fishing, the natural world, and art. Follow, like on Facebook, share wherever, comment wherever. Also, consider supporting me on Patreon (link at the top of the bar to the right of your screen, on web version). Every little bit is appreciated! Thank you to my only Patron, Erin, for supporting this blog.