Joe Doggett

Catch Postspawn Bass by Imitating Spawning Bluegills

fieldandstream-editor — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 20:00:00 -0400

This time of year, spawning bluegills will move to the shorelines of lakes and ponds. Their bedding sites can be prime locations to catch largemouth bass. And with many reservoir anglers now focusing on open-water schools of baitfish, you might have these seasonal hotspots all to yourself.

The Lone Star Lowdown

fieldandstream-editor — Mon, 08 Nov 2004 05:00:00 -0500

The enormous whitetail buck stepped out of the mesquite brush and stood broadside to me at 100 yards. His dark antlers glowed in the crisp dawn light, and the image of this mature South Texas bruiser fulfilled every promise that deer hunting ever made.

I leaned forward in the tripod stand, my heart pounding and the 10X binoculars trembling in my hands. The buck's heavy rack carried 10 up with an inside beam spread of at least 22 inches. I estimated that its Boone and Crockett gross score would be in the upper 160s-a near-record animal.

I sighed and settled back, reaching not for my 7mm Remington Magnum rifle but for my 400mm Canon camera. To take him with the gun could cost me several thousand dollars: I couldn't afford to tag such a magnificent deer.

My encounter with that buck last December occurred on a high-fenced game ranch in LaSalle County, deep in the fabled Brush Country of South Texas. The hunting format on that spread was typical of most high-fenced (a.k.a. game-proof) operations: The cost for shooting a trophy is determined by its B&C score. Put simply, the bigger the buck, the bigger the bucks. An adrenaline-pumped hunter here can easily burn $5,000 or $6,000 with a single pull of a trigger, and the tab can skyrocket in excess of $10,000 if he meets up with a true monster deer.

High fences crisscross the Brush Country, and approximately 95 percent of hunting in Texas takes place on private land. So if you hunt in Texas, you'd better get used to fences. High or low, they define a way of life, as common as longneck Buds and cheese enchiladas. Big deer are a prized commodity here (as are wild quail, turkeys, and other species), so many landowners manage ranches for game rather than cattle or crops. Controlling what you've got is the best way to do this; thus the game-proof fences. Such enterprises consistently produce mature, high-scoring deer, but at a price increasingly beyond the means of the average hunter.

However, there are options available for a visitor aiming for a memorable hunt. The quarry isn't limited to deer: doves, turkeys, waterfowl, javelinas, feral hogs, and other species roam this immense state in sizes and numbers that rival any place in the Lower 48. And the best sport isn't limited to South Texas, which is only one of eight regions (as defined by the Texas Wildlife Association) spanning the state's 261,797 square miles. Hunting here-from the Pineywoods in the east to Big Bend Country (the Trans-Pecos) in the west-is as exceptional and exciting as the terrain is varied and vast. Here's an insider's take, organized by species, on how to get the most for your hunting dollars down in the Lone Star State.

[NEXT "DEER"] DEER
Texas boasts the largest whitetail herd-somewhere between 3.5 million and 4 million animals-in the nation. And most of those deer thrive outside the expensive ranches of South Texas. Based on surveys by the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, the South Texas plains rank third in deer population, trailing the Edwards Plateau (Hill Country) of central Texas, and the Pineywoods of east Texas. The north-central Cross Timbers region and the Post Oak Savannah are right on the heels of South Texas for sheer numbers of deer.

The Hill Country is the mother lode, harboring almost 50 percent of the state's deer population and a hunter-success ratio of close to 100 percent. And it's a pleasure to hunt: a mix of cedars, oaks, and mesquites amid rolling, rocky terrain.

Hill Country deer are, on the average, smaller in size than their Brush Country cousins, but put the concept of quality in perspective: The typical deer hunter would be thrilled to tag a mature 8- or 10-point buck that scores in the 110 to 130 B&C range.

Deer of this caliber are plentiful-and affordable-in most parts of Texas. The long whitetail season, which begins in early November and extends into January (depeing on region), provides plenty of opportunity to book a hunt. Private land is the general rule, but most of the ranches are low-fenced. And the three or four strands of barbed wire designed to control livestock have no impact on the movements of free-ranging deer.

Because deer can travel freely from one low-fenced ranch to another, and because many of the leases are relatively small (less than 1,000 acres), managing game herds is difficult. This can work to the budget hunter's advantage. Few, if any, monetary restrictions on antlered bucks are in effect. If you like it, take it.

Many package hunts are available for no more than $1,500 in the Edwards Plateau, Pineywoods, Cross Timbers, and Post Oak Savannah. Good low-fenced hunting opportunities do exist in South Texas, but the area's reputation encourages some operations to inflate their prices.

Regardless of region, the typical deal includes three to four days of hunting from blinds or stands, lodging, and meals. Some also allow you to take an antlerless deer and at least one feral hog and/or a javelina (where available). You can get a lot of bang for the buck, not to mention meat for the freezer, by choosing a package hunt. Here are two reputable outfitters to consider:
Karankawa Plains Outfitting Co. [BRACKET "Coastal Prairies"] A three-day hunt (for an 8-point buck measuring up to 119 inches, plus one doe and two hogs) with lodging and meals is $1,400. Contact: Mark Biggerstaff, 979-559-0113; www.karankawa.com

Los Patos Guide Service [BRACKET "Coastal Prairies"] A three-day hunt (for an 8-point buck or better, no size restrictions, plus two does and limitless feral hogs) costs $1,500. Contact: Forrest West, 281-852-6456; www.lospatos.com

[NEXT "RIO GRANDE TURKEYS"] RIO GRANDE TURKEYS
Big gobblers abound in several regions-the best are the Edwards Plateau, South Texas, Panhandle, and Cross Timbers. The traditional fall turkey season runs concurrently with that for whitetails. Rio Grandes can be taken with rifle or shotgun, and the tab for adding a turkey onto a packaged deer hunt runs in the $200 to $300 range. This fee is actually pretty reasonable, especially when you consider that many veteran Hill Country hunters rate a long-bearded gobbler over all but the largest bucks.

The spring turkey season is a major event running between late March and early May (depending on the area), and many outfitters offer packages. A two- to four-day hunt with a two-gobbler bag limit (Texas has an annual limit of four per hunter) runs in the $500 to $1,000 range.
Mesquite Country Outfitters [BRACKET "Panhandle"] A two-day, three-night hunt with a two-turkey limit including lodging and meals costs $875. Contact: James Stephens, 806-689-2302; www.mcohunts.com

Texas Outfitters Ltd. [BRACKET "South Texas"] A three-day package (two-bird limit) with lodging and a guide is $750. Contact: Frank Fackovec, 800-839-4868; www.texasoutfittersltd.com

WATERFOWL
The coastal marshes and prairies of southeast Texas, the bay flats and marshes of the middle and lower coast, and the grainfields of north Texas are among the many opportunities for hunting ducks and geese migrating down the Central Flyway.

Seasons begin in late September and extend into January, with a special light-goose conservation season running through March. The daily limits (with various restrictions on each species) are six ducks and as many as five dark geese and 20 light geese.

Dozens of day-hunt operations are located in the prime areas. As a rule, those commanding the most acreage offer the best chances for success since they have the luxury of rotating productive fields and ponds and establishing no-hunting roost areas to help hold the birds.

Most waterfowl hunting takes place only in the morning (to allow birds to regroup during the afternoon), and the going rate for a full-service hunt with a guide, dogs, and a blind or field decoy spread is between $100 and $150.

Central Flyway Outfitters [BRACKET "Pineywoods"] A day hunt over white spreads or decoys-four hunters to a guide-is $150, or $175 with lodging. Contact: Will Beatty, 281-255-4868; www.hunttexas.com
Butch's Guide Service [BRACKET "Coastal Prairies"] A day hunt over decoys is $120, four hunters per guide. Contact: Butch Waggoner, 281-391-4381; www.texashunting.net

[NEXT "DOVES"] DOVES
An estimated 50 million mourning and whitewing doves make their home in the Lone Star State. It's one of the most popular and productive Texas species to hunt, and many of the finest opportunities are within a short drive of major urban centers. For example, a colony of more than a million whitewings flies in the area around San Antonio.

Dove seasons are set according to zones-north, central, and south-and the latter two also offer a winter season from late December into January. The daily bag limits are generous: 15 in the north and 12 in the central and south zones. A typical day in the dove field costs between $50 and $75.

Web & Fin Guide Service [BRACKET "Pineywoods"] A guided hunt is $50 per day. Contact: Mark Hooker, 281-782-9034; www.webandfin.net

Sandy Oaks Ranch [BRACKET "South Texas"] It's $50 per day, or $450 for a three-day package including lodging and meals. Contact: Foard Houston, 830-665-3202; www.sandyoaksranch.com

FERAL HOGS
Ranchers are trying to trim populations of resident hogs, which run rampant in many areas, pillaging game feeders and food plots. Hogs breed constantly, and the piglets seem to be half hair and half Kryptonite. Several generations removed from the barnyard, the porkers are legitimate game-wary and elusive-and they get big. A mature boar with long tusks might weigh 300 to 400 pounds, and stalking a giant boar can provide more excitement than the average hunter desires.

These hunts usually cost less than $500. Options range from one trophy boar to two or three smaller "meat pigs" to "shoot as many of the damned things as you can." Hog hunting is available across the state, and because feral hogs aren't native animals, no seasons or bag limits are in effect.
Lone Star Outdoors [BRACKET "Edwards Plateau"] A three-day hunt, lodging, and meals costs $750. Hunters can take three hogs. Contact: Rick Hodges, 830-609-3600; www.2hunttexas.com

Cedar Springs Hog Hunting [BRACKET "PineyWoods"] A two-day hunt with lodging is $395 (one trophy hog or three meat hogs). Contact: David Clifton, 936-867-9275; www.huntinfo.com/cedarsprings

JAVELINAS

The collared peccary, or javelina, is synonymous with the Rio Grande country afternoon), and the going rate for a full-service hunt with a guide, dogs, and a blind or field decoy spread is between $100 and $150.

Where to Hunt in Texas: Deer, Doves, Turkeys, Hogs, Ducks, Javelina

fieldandstream-editor — Sun, 31 Oct 2004 19:00:00 -0500

I leaned forward in the tripod stand, my heart pounding and the 10X binoculars trembling in my hands. The buck's heavy rack carried 10 up with an inside beam spread of at least 22 inches. I estimated that its Boone and Crockett gross score would be in the upper 160s—a near-record animal.

I sighed and settled back, reaching not for my 7mm Remington Magnum rifle but for my 400mm Canon camera. To take him with the gun could cost me several thousand dollars: I couldn't afford to tag such a magnificent deer.

My encounter with that buck last December occurred on a high-fenced game ranch in LaSalle County, deep in the fabled Brush Country of South Texas. The hunting format on that spread was typical of most high-fenced (a.k.a. game-proof) operations: The cost for shooting a trophy is determined by its B&C score. Put simply, the bigger the buck, the bigger the bucks. An adrenaline-pumped hunter here can easily burn $5,000 or $6,000 with a single pull of a trigger, and the tab can sky-rocket in excess of $10,000 if he meets up with a true monster deer.

High fences crisscross the Brush Country, and approximately 95 percent of hunting in Texas takes place on private land. So if you hunt in Texas, you'd better get used to fences. High or low, they define a way of life, as common as long-neck Buds and cheese enchiladas. Big deer are a prized commodity here (as are wild quail, turkeys, and other species), so many landowners manage ranches for game rather than cattle or crops. Controlling what you've got is the best way to do this; thus the game-proof fences. Such enterprises consistently produce mature, high-scoring deer, but at a price increasingly beyond the means of the average hunter.

However, there are options available for a visitor aiming for a memorable hunt. The quarry isn't limited to deer: doves, turkeys, waterfowl, javelinas, feral hogs, and other species roam this immense state in sizes and numbers that rival any place in the Lower 48. And the best sport isn't limited to South Texas, which is only one of eight regions (as defined by the Texas Wildlife Association) spanning the state's 261,797 square miles. Hunting here—from the Pineywoods in the east to Big Bend Country (the Trans-Pecos) in the west—is as exceptional and exciting as the terrain is varied and vast. Here's an insider's take, organized by species, on how to get the most for your hunting dollars down in the Lone Star State.

DEER

Texas boasts the largest whitetail herd—somewhere between 3.5 million and 4 million animals—in the nation. And most of those deer thrive outside the expensive ranches of South Texas. Based on surveys by the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, the South Texas plains rank third in deer population, trailing the Edwards Plateau (Hill Country) of central Texas, and the Pineywoods of east Texas. The north-central Cross Timbers region and the Post Oak Savannah are right on the heels of South Texas for sheer numbers of deer.

The Hill Country is the mother lode, harboring almost 50 percent of the state's deer population and a hunter-success ratio of close to 100 percent. And it's a pleasure to hunt: a mix of cedars, oaks, and mesquites amid rolling, rocky terrain.

Hill Country deer are, on the average, smaller in size than their Brush Country cousins, but put the concept of quality in perspective: The typical deer hunter would be thrilled to tag a mature 8- or 10-point buck that scores in the 110 to 130 B&C range.

Deer of this caliber are plentiful—and affordable—in most parts of Texas. The long whitetail season, which begins in early November and extends into January (depending on region), provides plenty of opportunity to book a hunt. Private land is the general rule, but most of the ranches are low-fenced. And the three or four strands of barbed wire designed to control livestock have no impact on the movements of free-ranging deer.

Because deer can travel freely from one low-fenced ranch to another, and because many of the leases are relatively small (less than 1,000 acres), managing game herds is difficult. This can work to the budget hunter's advantage. Few, if any, monetary restrictions on antlered bucks are in effect. If you like it, take it.

Many package hunts are available for no more than $1,500 in the Edwards Plateau, Pineywoods, Cross Timbers, and Post Oak Savannah. Good low-fenced hunting opportunities do exist in South Texas, but the area's reputation encourages some operations to inflate their prices.

Regardless of region, the typical deal includes three to four days of hunting from blinds or stands, lodging, and meals. Some also allow you to take an antlerless deer and at least one feral hog and/or a javelina (where available). You can get a lot of bang for the buck, not to mention meat for the freezer, by choosing a package hunt. Here are two reputable outfitters to consider:

• KARANKAWA PLAINS OUTFITTING CO. [COASTAL PRAIRIES] A three-day hunt (for an 8-point buck measuring up to 119 inches, plus one doe and two hogs) with lodging and meals is $1,400. Contact: Mark Bigger-staff, 979-559-0113; www.karankawa.com

• LOS PATOS GUIDE SERVICE [COASTAL PRAIRIES] A three-day hunt (for an 8-point buck or better, no size restrictions, plus two does and limitless feral hogs) costs $1,500. Contact: Forrest West, 281-852-6456; www.lospatos.com

RIO GRANDE TURKEYS

Big gobblers abound in several regions—the best are the Edwards Plateau, South Texas, Panhandle, and Cross Timbers. The traditional fall turkey season runs concurrently with that for whitetails. Rio Grandes can be taken with rifle or shotgun, and the tab for adding a turkey onto a packaged deer hunt runs in the $200 to $300 range. This fee is actually pretty reasonable, especially when you consider that many veteran Hill Country hunters rate a long-bearded gobbler over all but the largest bucks.

The spring turkey season is a major event running between late March and early May (depending on the area), and many outfitters offer packages. A two- to four-day hunt with a two-gobbler bag limit (Texas has an annual limit of four per hunter) runs in the $500 to $1,000 range.

• MESQUITE COUNTRY OUTFITTERS [PANHANDLE] A two-day, three-night hunt with a two-turkey limit including lodging and meals costs $875. Contact: James Stephens, 806-689-2302; www.mcohunts.com

• TEXAS OUTFITTERS LTD. [SOUTH TEXAS] A three-day package (two-bird limit) with lodging and a guide is $750. Contact: Frank Fackovec, 800-839-4868; www.texasoutfittersltd.com

WATERFOWL

The coastal marshes and prairies of south-east Texas, the bay flats and marshes of the middle and lower coast, and the grainfields of north Texas are among the many opportunities for hunting ducks and geese migrating down the Central Flyway.

Seasons begin in late September and extend into January, with a special light-goose conservation season running through March. The daily limits (with various restrictions on each species) are six ducks and as many as five dark geese and 20 light geese.

Dozens of day-hunt operations are located in the prime areas. As a rule, those commanding the most acreage offer the best chances for success since they have the luxury of rotating productive fields and ponds and establishing no-hunting roost areas to help hold the birds.

Most waterfowl hunting takes place only in the morning (to allow birds to regroup during the afternoon), and the going rate for a full-service hunt with a guide, dogs, and a blind or field decoy spread is between $100 and $150.

• CENTRAL FLYWAY OUTFITTERS [PINEYWOODS] A day hunt over white spreads or decoys—four hunters to a guide—is $150, or $175 with lodging. Contact: Will Beatty, 281-255-4868; www.hunttexas.com

• BUTCH'S GUIDE SERVICE [COASTAL PRAIRIES] A day hunt over decoys is $120, four hunters per guide. Contact: Butch Waggoner, 281-391-4381; www.texashunting.net

DOVES

An estimated 50 million mourning and whitewing doves make their home in the Lone Star State. It's one of the most popular and productive Texas species to hunt, and many of the finest opportunities are within a short drive of major urban centers. For example, a colony of more than a million whitewings flies in the area around San Antonio.

Dove seasons are set according to zones—north, central, and south—and the latter two also offer a winter season from late December into January. The daily bag limits are generous: 15 in the north and 12 in the central and south zones. A typical day in the dove field costs between $50 and $75.

• WEB & FIN GUIDE SERVICE [PINEYWOODS] A guided hunt is $50 per day. Contact: Mark Hooker, 281-782-9034; www.webandfin.net

• SANDY OAKS RANCH [SOUTH TEXAS] It's $50 per day, or $450 for a three-day package including lodging and meals. Contact: Foard Houston, 830-665-3202; www.sandyoaksranch.com

FERAL HOGS

Ranchers are trying to trim populations of resident hogs, which run rampant in many areas, pillaging game feeders and food plots. Hogs breed constantly, and the piglets seem to be half hair and half Kryptonite. Several generations removed from the barnyard, the porkers are legitimate game—wary and elusive—and they get big. A mature boar with long tusks might weigh 300 to 400 pounds, and stalking a giant boar can provide more excitement than the average hunter desires.

These hunts usually cost less than $500. Options range from one trophy boar to two or three smaller "meat pigs" to "shoot as many of the damned things as you can." Hog hunting is available across the state, and because feral hogs aren't native animals, no seasons or bag limits are in effect.

• LONE STAR OUTDOORS [EDWARDS PLATEAU] A three-day hunt, lodging, and meals costs $750. Hunters can take three hogs. Contact: Rick Hodges, 830-609-3600; www.2hunttexas.com

• CEDAR SPRINGS HOG HUNTING [PINEYWOODS] A two-day hunt with lodging is $395 (one trophy hog or three meat hogs). Contact: David Clifton, 936-867-9275; www.huntinfo.com/cedarsprings

JAVELINAS

The collared peccary, or javelina, is synonymous with the Rio Grande country of South Texas, but they thrive across portions of the Hill Country and west Texas, too. With their sharp, tusklike teeth and bristling hair, javelinas have an unfounded reputation for ferocity. But they have poor senses of sight and hearing, and a hunter with minimal stalking skills can creep up on a gang of snuffling "cactus pigs."

A close encounter can be exciting—javelinas have a larger-than-life aura. They are deceptively small, averaging 30 to 40 pounds, and it seems as if half that weight is in their heads. Javelina mounts are one of the few trophies that seem to grow as they hang on the wall. These hunts, which cost $100 to $200, are usually provided as add-ons to deer and hog hunts.

8 HUNTING REGIONS OF TEXAS*

[1] TRANS-PECOS [2] PANHANDLE [3] CROSS TIMBERS [4] EDWARDS PLATEAU [5] POST OAK SAVANNAH [6] PINEYWOODS [7] COASTAL PRAIRIES [8] SOUTH TEXAS

*TEXAS WILDLIFE ASSOCIATION

Go Where It's Warm

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 19 Mar 2003 12:05:00 -0500

Water temperature can be critical when early-season bass are advancing and retreating with changes in the weather. As readings approach prespawning levels (high 50s, low 60s), the warmest shorelines with suitable habitat can attract aggressive fish, while similar areas with colder water seem lifeless. A few degrees can make a big difference.

Many "tricked" bass boats are equipped with water thermometers, but the angler without a high-tech rig can obtain an inexpensive handheld unit. The so-called stream thermometer, used for decades by trout anglers, is just as effective on bass water.

Even without a thermometer, the astute angler can locate productive areas by understanding the natural influences. For example, a northern shoreline exposed to wind and wave action from the south is usually warmer than the corresponding southern bank (which can hold lingering chill behind a stiff cold front). The shorelines and shallows most influenced by high-sun angles will be warmer than those shaded during the afternoon. A steep bluff that blocks the western sun might keep a prime stretch of bank chilled, while around the exposed corner the shallows are boiling with life.

The window between 2 p.m. and 5 p.m. is the warmest period of the day. Conversely, the dawn patrol revered by summer bass anglers can be sluggish during early season. This is especially true the day behind a cold front. In short, shoreline bass during the prespawn stage are often most aggressive during afternoon hours-sufficient reason to sleep in.

Water clarity can also be a factor. Murky water with suspended sediments seems to absorb solar heat faster than clear water. This does not mean you should race off to a mud hole, but if you can barely see the copper blades of a spinnerbait flashing through 10 or 12 inches of visibility, a juiced-up sow might be lurking in the nearby stickups. Keeping this in mind, the murky rise associated with early-season runoff might set up a specific creek.

Bottom structures that absorb or reflect solar heat can attract bass to specific spots. For example, high sun radiating off exposed rock can generate sufficient heat to stir lethargic bass into a strike. And a white-sand bottom in shallow, clear water can reflect sun and warm a shallow flat on a bright day.

The Summer Angling Equation

fieldandstream-editor — Thu, 08 Aug 2002 06:10:00 -0400

Mr. Tate's 10th-grade algebra class was an exercise in sweaty anguish, and Buddy Fisher and I were definite back-row material. We would cower behind our unread books, each huddled in private misery as the round clock on the wall ticked in tiny, torturous arcs. Mr. Tate would pace back and forth, waving his pointer, pausing only to scribble confounding equations on the blackboard.

My greatest dread was to peer over Algebra for You and see Mr. Tate aiming like a swordsman, extending the black tip of the pointer straight at me. "Mr. Doggett! To the board!"

My greatest relief was to see the pointer sweep past my desk and hear, "Mr. Fisher! To the board!" When that happened I knew I was safe for another day.

Now we both were safe, not just for another day but for three whole months. And the second best thing about summer vacation was that we could fish Uncle Henry's pond. Uncle Henry was a relative of Buddy's who lived on a modest farm in the Pineywoods, northeast of Houston. The pond, when we saw it during spring, covered about 4 acres-plenty of mossy green-clear water filled with bass and bluegills. The little lake was tucked behind a locked gate, hidden from the road and seldom fished. It had been stocked by the state, as many private waters were in the 1960s, but Uncle Henry had little interest in angling.

"Sure, boys," he said. "Come on up and fish it anytime you want."

But when we arrived several days later, the fondly remembered water had dwindled to approximately 2 acres, the result of dry weather and hot days. What remained was soupy and stale, rimmed with mats of slimy goo and tangly moss, virtually impossible to cover with our bank-bound spincast tackle. A softshell turtle sunning on a log raised its long neck and slipped like a yellow flapjack into the steamy water. Buddy and I looked at each other. It seemed that algebraic applications could be found outside the classroom as well: Prolonged Drought plus Summer Heat plus Bright Sun, multiplied by Aquatic Vegetation, equals Frog Water.

Do the Math
The unhappy equation of (PD + SH + BS) x AV = FW is common in ponds and shallow lakes all across the country during the extreme conditions of summer. The hot months typically are dry. Any small lake this side of a tropical depression (or a costly pumping program) almost certainly will shrink through evaporation during summer.

The problem of reduced surface acreage is compounded by the fact that most species of aquatic weeds grow fastest during the long summer days. As the amount of water decreases, the amount of vegetation increases-a poor combination for the bass angler reaching for a crankbait, or most any other popular lure. The bass are there. The problem is reaching them. However, the summer angler faced with an anorexic pond choked with weeds can improve his chances by making the apparently negative equation work in his favor. First, the low water tends to concentrate bass along reliable dropoffs rather than scatter them amid swollen shallows. Second, the mats of vegetation that rim the shorelines are well defined, with obvious breaks into deeper water. These edges provide protection and shade for ambush-oriented predators.

This latter circumstance can be a major advantage; the cool shadows under surface canopies can expand the prime early and late feeding periods. Also a plus during stagnant heat, the photosynthesis of blooming green vegetation can help oxygenate the water amid the weeds.

By following these basic guidelines, the summer angler on a low-water pond can concentrate on visible targets with fish-holding potential rather than rely on "chuck and chance" across open water. The key is to have adequate tackle and a go-for-it attitude, and to not be intimidated by soupy tangles and steamy backwaters.

Strikes and Bites
Fishing from the bank may or may not be worthwhile. Thelat-footed approach sounds good in theory, but reaching productive areas might be difficult. Thick rims of vegetation, both on the land and in the water, can block the approach.

Even if the bank walker has reasonably open footing, shoreline surface mats of moss and weeds can clog the deep-to-shallow retrieve angle. The cast may reach promising water, but cranking the lure back to the rod without fouling can be difficult, perhaps impossible, depending on the salad bowl in question.

Wading is a legitimate option for the determined summer pond rustler. The ability to ease into thigh- to waist-deep water can open a lot of angles and alleys that the caster restricted to the bank cannot reach. Of course, mucking through the swampy shallows is not without potential drama. You may wallow into an alligator hole or bumble over a sunning snake. Take heart in the fact that alligators less than 6 or 8 feet in length seldom pose a threat to humans, and most snakes encountered along marshy banks are harmless species such as water snakes, ribbon snakes, king snakes, and rat snakes.

A more realistic danger for the pond wader or walker poking through thick stuff might be blundering into an irritable bull-especially for summer-vacation stealth artists who take a cavalier attitude toward posted signs. Trust me on that. It turned out that Buddy and I were no better at geography than algebra, suffering the occasional loss of direction, and this affliction soon found us on the wrong side of Uncle Henry's back fence. The neighbor's pond was deep and "bassy," showing great potential until Ole Diablo rumbled across the far bank.

Terrestrial insects are another concern, as any preoccupied angler who has bounced off a hornets' nest will agree. Various aquatic insects can be annoying for the warmwater "wet" wader. For example, a type of small swimming beetle infests the moss in ponds of southeast Texas. I'm not certain if this hateful creature relies on pinchers, stingers, or fangs, or all three at once, but the burning wound is abrupt and painful.

And these diminutive beetles, unlike the celebrated alligators and snakes, seem to go out of their way to attack, often seeking the most vulnerable and painful targets (the determined wader in waist-deep water can draw his own conclusions). Several of these beetle attacks can make all but the most explosive topwater strikes not worth the misery.

Keeping this in mind, and despite the potential for 85-degree water and 95-degree air, you might consider donning chest waders for summer pond duty. Lightweight, breathable waders are tolerable and do a fine job of discouraging riffraff.

Think Small
Various setbacks can be annoying but by virtue of the soggy soft-shoe you might be able to reach and cover prime bass water. The wader who takes quiet steps and a low profile can work amid close quarters with minimum risk of spooking fish. The weeds, themselves, serve as a buffer. As another advantage, the wader along a mossy bank can cast parallel to the dropoff, raking intercept areas beyond reach of the bank walker.

But wading is not always effective. Steep banks, for example, can put a major crimp in the program. It's hard to cover much water when the first step is knee-deep and the second step is overhead. Gravel pits are notorious for sheer banks and shrill curses.

Fishing afloat is the best way to thwart rims of deep vegetation. Once in the open, the angler can direct casts to the prime outside edge of shoreline cover and work the retrieve back through unobstructed water. This shallow-to-deep angle has it all over the deep-to-shallow dredge from the bank, and allows most lures with exposed hooks to track effectively without fouling.

But think small when preparing to launch. A low-water, weed-choked pond is no place for a 20-foot bass boat and a 200-horse outboard. Just cranking the big motor might wash leopard frogs across the far bank.

All sorts of innovative approaches are available for the stealth angler. A 14- to 16-foot aluminum johnboat is the standard, but kayaks, canoes, pedal boats, pontoon kick boats, and float tubes are among the legitimate options. An electric trolling motor of suitable size is the go-to choice on small boats, but do not discount the time-honored paddle for silent, effective maneuvering amid thick vegetation. Paddles don't tangle, which is more than can be said for whirring propellers.

And don't be reluctant to experiment or improvise. I recently used a 10-foot surfboard on a 20-acre lake south of Houston. Placing a casting rod between my legs, I was able to knee-paddle the wide noserider with ease, clipping silently and smoothly across the riffled surface. When I reached the first likely weedbed, I straddled the board as if waiting for a wave and had plenty of stability for casting.

Two friends in a nearby johnboat were laughing and pointing, making all sorts of rude remarks ("Hey, dude, Gidget went that way!") until I threaded a maze of flooded timber and picked up several fine bass by pitching a spinnerbait into tight pockets difficult to reach by conventional patrol.

Ahead waited a shaded corner of uncommon potential-the obvious mother lode on that side of the pond. It became a race. The boaters jacked the trolling motor to full power, humming and threshing across the open water. I wheeled the board and began paddling at a sprint. Surfing training took over and the board zipped ahead; I was pulling away and glanced back, flashing a big grin. Then the 10-inch fin slammed into a submerged log, and the abrupt jolt sent me sailing over the nose of the board. It seems that not all wipeouts occur at the beach, a fact not lost on the crew in the boat as they swept past. Memory sometimes lapses, and I do not recall if they caught a 6-pound bass or not.

But, regardless of conveyance, the summer pond rustler can make low water and thick weeds work to his advantage. Had Buddy and I understood this formula, I am confident we could have taken a toll from Uncle Henry's pond. It is a simple angling equation that turns a negative into a positive, and one that any small-water fisherman should be able to follow.motor might wash leopard frogs across the far bank.

All sorts of innovative approaches are available for the stealth angler. A 14- to 16-foot aluminum johnboat is the standard, but kayaks, canoes, pedal boats, pontoon kick boats, and float tubes are among the legitimate options. An electric trolling motor of suitable size is the go-to choice on small boats, but do not discount the time-honored paddle for silent, effective maneuvering amid thick vegetation. Paddles don't tangle, which is more than can be said for whirring propellers.

And don't be reluctant to experiment or improvise. I recently used a 10-foot surfboard on a 20-acre lake south of Houston. Placing a casting rod between my legs, I was able to knee-paddle the wide noserider with ease, clipping silently and smoothly across the riffled surface. When I reached the first likely weedbed, I straddled the board as if waiting for a wave and had plenty of stability for casting.

Two friends in a nearby johnboat were laughing and pointing, making all sorts of rude remarks ("Hey, dude, Gidget went that way!") until I threaded a maze of flooded timber and picked up several fine bass by pitching a spinnerbait into tight pockets difficult to reach by conventional patrol.

Ahead waited a shaded corner of uncommon potential-the obvious mother lode on that side of the pond. It became a race. The boaters jacked the trolling motor to full power, humming and threshing across the open water. I wheeled the board and began paddling at a sprint. Surfing training took over and the board zipped ahead; I was pulling away and glanced back, flashing a big grin. Then the 10-inch fin slammed into a submerged log, and the abrupt jolt sent me sailing over the nose of the board. It seems that not all wipeouts occur at the beach, a fact not lost on the crew in the boat as they swept past. Memory sometimes lapses, and I do not recall if they caught a 6-pound bass or not.

But, regardless of conveyance, the summer pond rustler can make low water and thick weeds work to his advantage. Had Buddy and I understood this formula, I am confident we could have taken a toll from Uncle Henry's pond. It is a simple angling equation that turns a negative into a positive, and one that any small-water fisherman should be able to follow.

Secret Thrill

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 10 Jul 2002 11:10:00 -0400

The largemouth bass increasingly is a man-made fish in man-made water. Hatcheries and dams transported the native bass from its brooding origin amid swamps and sloughs to the glittering confusion of rooster tails and tournament trails. The change was not all bad; indeed, this high profile on massive public waters throughout the Lower 48 established the largemouth bass as "America's fish." It is the most important sport fish in the country. Based on the annual tonnage of products and public relations, no other species comes close.

But something has been lost in the transition. The largemouth is not at its best when plodding and milling in open water. The "peck" of a 2-pound bass on a Carolina-rigged worm off a main lake point in 15 feet of water is not what makes the fish great.

What makes the largemouth great is its furious drive from gloom and shadow to maul a surface plug as big as a Chiquita banana. Within its native habitat of shallow bottom and thick vegetation, the largemouth bass is a supreme predator and a magnificent challenge.

The best way to go one-on-one with unreconstructed bass is to step from behind the screen of bass-boat electronics and wade into the heart of the experience. The first and last hours of the day are prime, a return to the darkness of the swamp.

A waist-deep stealth mission against a hushed horizon brings intimate and elemental contact. The moss-covered bottom feels spongy as bubbles of oxygen hiss and pop with each shuffle. The water feels vital, and the near bank flutters and bounces with life-a leopard frog launches with a startled squirt and a slider turtle slants from a log. A displaced blue heron croaks irritably overhead. And, off the point of reeds, the surface humps with the faint promise of a heavy fish.

This is close-quarters combat with a casting rod; you work tight, using the quiet approach and low profile for a surgical strike. The topwater plug lands with a feathered plop alongside the reeds. You wait amid the green and gray and gold until the ripples ooze back into the lake. The lure floats motionless, with froggy eyes peering over the silver glint of a poised propeller.

Still, you wait. Something violent is close. The rod flicks a chatter and twinkle into the lure. And the surface just detonates. You jump. A pair of unseen wood ducks jump. The hooked bass flails sideways into the air and, against the glow, you can see the heavy jaws and the bold gills and the killer eyes.

The moment seems larger than life. And this, minutes from darkness and far from the nearest Carolina rig, is the secret thrill of bass fishing.

The Red Reel

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 25 Jun 2002 12:15:00 -0400

The casting reel may be an american original, but the grand old game amid the lily pads and bay shores was changed forever in the years after World War II with the introduction of a single foreign product-the so-called "red reel."

The Abu Garcia Ambassadeur 5000 with its red anodized frame and fitted leather case glowed with no-nonsense elegance and authority. It could even talk-at least to awestruck anglers. The first one I saw as a kid in 1958 at the Palms Center Oshman's store in Houston said: Step aside, son; the A-Team is here. The first one I borrowed unleashed dazzling performance and, within a few casts, carried a tentative levelwind game to a smoother, higher plane.

I knew that one day I would own a red reel.

the red abu ambassadeur 5000, imported from SvÂ¿Â¿ngsta, Sweden, by AB Urfabriken, debuted in the United States at the 1954 New York World's Fair (ABU's European precursor to the Ambassadeur was the Record series). The import, distributed as the Abu Garcia Ambassadeur 5000, incorporated a push-button free-spool design that disengaged the spool from the handle. It boasted a patented centrifugal brake to control the windmilling spool during the cast and an anti-reverse mechanism to eliminate backspinning during the retrieve. An adjustable star drag regulated the tension on the outgoing line against the locked handle.

And, unlike the sputtering freewheelers, the Ambassadeur 5000 with its plastic spool and centrifugal brake was the first casting reel that could handle the introduction of springy monofilament line. This was huge. During the late 1950s, mono pointed straight (even while stretching) to the future. Braided line was immediately relegated to something your grandfather toted in his battered wooden box.

No small point, the Ambassadeur 5000 looked cool. Elvis Presley had his blue suede shoes and Abu Garcia had its red anodized frame. The Ambassadeur was faithful to the "round reel" appeal of the old Kentucky watchmakers, but it was a rock 'n' roll machine with solid heft (the early models with chrome-plated brass frames weighed approximately 11 ounces; the later ones with aluminum frames, approximately 9 ounces, on a par with the larger direct-drive casting reels such as the Shakespeare President and the Pflueger Supreme).

It is a safe bet that the established reel manufacturers were in shock. Wouldn't you be if you were trying to sell biplanes in the dawn of the jet age? The 18-year patent on the centrifugal brake prevented imitations, and the only thing that kept the Marhoffs, Sportcasts, and Nobbys moving at all was the brutal price tag on the import. The red reel retailed at approximately $45, a staggering sum during the Eisenhower administration. A few direct-drive reels came close, but many accepted models were less than $15 or $20.

Despite its high price, the red reel took off because it proved itself with reliable performance in the red-hot Texas saltwater arena. The Ambassadeur was like a good jungle assault weapon. It had loose tolerances and simple parts, and with a screwdriver and a can of oil, you could keep it firing. The drag might get sticky and the free-spool button might catch, but the machine would continue to function.

I paid $32 for my first Ambassadeur 5000 at a FedMart discount store in 1965. I was a sophomore at the University of Houston. I don't recall which meant more that spring, the red reel or the purple-and-gold Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity pin. Both were big deals.

I fished bays and surf, lakes and ponds with that reel and carried it on an aircraft carrier to war in 1969. The old "four screw" reel from lot No. 538,519 is rough and crusty and the 3.75:1 retrieve ratio seems dated, even quaint, in today's fast lane-but it works. You could spool it with fresh 12-pound mono and fish it tomorrow.

The peak year for the red reel was 1967, when 490,000 units were produced.. Sales backed off in 1968 with the introduction of the black-frame ball-bearing 5000C. Suddenly, the color of cool was black, not red.

The Ambassadeur Series saw numerous models and upgrades, and the old 5000 faces the new century under different marketing wraps. The current reels, under the corporate mantle of Pure Fishing, benefit from more than two dozen modifications to the original and enjoy a large following. The reels are also considerably more affordable than the original. (The "new" red classic retails through Cabela's for approximately $80. Other tweaks on the same design cost less than $60. In contrast, top-end casting reels by Abu Garcia, Shimano, and Daiwa are in the $200 to $300 class.)

The Abu Garcia Ambassadeur 5000 has had the longest production run of any levelwinder, past or present, and according to the factory in Sweden, approximately 4 million red reels of the 5000 design have been made. More important, the reel changed the past and spawned the future. It is no exaggeration to say that every casting reel on today's shelves has borrowed from the original red reel.

Confessions of a Spinnerbait Addict

fieldandstream-editor — Thu, 13 Jun 2002 08:35:00 -0400

White-capped chops piled across the lake as the trolling motor threshed and churned to hold position. The upwind angle was bad, but the brushy point beckoned with promise, a fine intercept area for bass to ambush baitfish carried on the currents. I cocked the casting rod and let drive with a powerful sidearm delivery. The tandem-bladed spinnerbait sailed, then stalled, against a gust, flapping like a chartreuse parakeet.

The reel continued to free-spool furiously, and my thumb disappeared in a busy cloud of monofilament. The mutinous lure slapped to the surface 10 yards short of the intended brushpile.

I swore, pulling and tugging at the loops of line. Like most honest levelwinders, I've had plenty of practice "milking the reel" on windblown days, and a crafty pluck unseated the snarl. The stripped coils wound smoothly between my thumb and forefinger back onto the spool.

The spinnerbait had settled to the sandy, sloping bottom. A flick of the rod tip and a steady crank started the twin willowleaf blades wobbling and pulsing. The lure climbed near the surface, then rolled over a shallow limb. A meaty boil swirled from the shadows. The fluttering image disappeared in a quick flash of green and gold. A 4-pound largemouth wallowed into the air.

That incident, which occurred last spring, is a classic illustration of our love-hate relationship with the tandem-bladed, safety-pin spinnerbait-the most popular format for this lure. The safety-pin spinnerbait with a single, smaller blade can be effective, especially in deep water where a faster sink rate often is desirable, but twin blades dominate in the brushy shallows that draw most spinnerbait fire.

Here is a closer look at both sides of this reel-tangling, fish-catching contradiction. First and foremost, let me state unequivocally that a spinnerbait "waking" just under the surface and allowed to slow-roll over shallow limbs and stickups is an absolute stomper when aggressive bass are lurking like muggers along tangled edges. Unfortunately, a bass doing its absolute best to get caught can miss the hook. The safety-pin spinnerbait, more so than most bass lures, induces blown strikes. The single, upturned hook is guarded by the top arm of wire and blades, which encourages a fish to bounce off amid a frustrating flash and boil. And who knows how many trailing bass strike not at the skirted hook but at the flashing, tempting blades running just above?

On the upside, the garish disco of sight and sound is a superior attractor in the murky and/or brush-choked water that can frustrate conventional lures. The flash of the vibrating blades and the flutter of the pulsing skirt and/or trailer can be a compelling combination for a predator wired to lunge from shadows at a brief chance.

The snagless V design allows the angler to repeatedly put the spinnerbait back inside the brush and weeds without fouling. The aggressive caster working on automatic fire can saturate a shoreline-a much more efficient pace for locating random fish than dawdling along over a plastic bottom-bumper.

On the downside, the twin-bladed safety-pin spinnerbait is a contraption. It looks ridiculous hanging from the rod, with stiff wires and dangling blades and trailing skirts. It does not resemble any living creature, and the fact that it triggers reckless and repeated maulings makes you lose faith in the supposed intelligence of the black bass.

Though it can cover water and draw aggressive strikes, delivering the payload to the desired target can be a problem. A smart bomb it ain't; no bass lure is more difficult to cast with control. The characteristics of the dangling and trailing components can fluster the most determined thumb and defeat the antibacklash mechanisms of the best reels.

The spinnerbait does deliver acceptable performance downwind-big time. With the wind, a reasonably proficient baitcaster shoulde able to chunk a flapping, quacking mallard duck. No, the real test comes into or across the breeze.

The desperate levelwinder can increase the spool tension, but doing so progressively throttles performance. A reel that refuses to overrun is a hollow victory for the plugger who cannot wham the payload more than 20 or 30 feet off the rod tip.

Another dodge is to use a thinner line and a lighter rod. Such finesse might improve casting performance, but proper spinnerbait fishing for bragging-size bass amid thick cover requires heavier tackle. Once a hoary old sow clamps down, you "dance with who you brung," and the hoedown may not last long with a wet-noodle rig.

You can improve upwind ballistics by going to a heavier payload (say, 5/8 ounce rather than 3/8 ounce), and/or reducing the size of the blades and the bulk of the skirt. Streamlining a heavier spinnerbait increases casting authority but deviates from the original, preferred combination of slow-sinking weight and bulk. You are, in effect, serving up an offering with different fishing characteristics.

Of course, you can make a reasonable argument that a bad lure in the right spot is better than a good lure in the wrong spot-but too much tweaking can result in a spinnerbait poorly suited for the available water. As a last resort, and with complete disregard to style points, you can use a spinning rod.

The positive side to its froufrou characteristics is that the spinnerbait with large blades and full skirt lands with a seductive plunk rather than a startling crash amid the tight quarters where the concept and design are most effective. The bulk and buoyancy encourage a slow and tantalizing sink rate-and the slower the fall, the better the action.

The sink rate can be stalled even more (say, over flooded grass) by adding a buoyant trailer such as a soft-plastic tail or a strip of pork rind. Such a resistant payload can be a beast to punch into the wind, but if it lands anywhere near the kill zone, you have a grand chance of drawing a strike.

The tandem safety-pin spinnerbait has two sides as well as two blades, and rare is the angler who has not bad-mouthed the contrary aspects of this contraption. But rarer still is the experienced bass buster who does not have at least several within easy reach. This is because no lure is better at finding fish and drawing strikes amid the tangled shallows where bass so often wait.

Skirts and Blades
Nylon spinnerbait skirts are available in an array of colors. Browns, reds, and yellows imitate crawfish and frogs; whites, greens, and blues approximate baitfish. More or less. Plenty of latitude for impressionistic crossover exists, and an aggressive bass boiling from a brushpile probably doesn't care.

As a general rule, darker colors are a good call under low-light conditions; lighter skirts are popular under high-visibility circumstances. Again, none of this is cut in hydrilla-just a starting point amid a confounding kaleidoscope. Whatever skirt color gets the nod, a bit of sparkle in the strands seems to improve the confidence factor. One final observation on spinnerbait skirts: When in doubt, tie on chartreuse.

Metal spinnerbait blades are available in three popular shapes-willowleaf, Indiana, and Colorado-and at least eight sizes, from zero to No. 8 (the larger the number, the bigger the blade). Blade selection has a big influence on sink rate and vibration.

The willowleaf blade is elongated, with a lazy, rolling flutter, a fine choice for running through stickups and logjams. The streamlined profile encourages a fast sink rate, an advantage along dropoff edges. All things being equal, the trim willowleaf is the easiest to cast-well, sometimes.

At the opposite extreme, the wide, rounded Colorado blade imparts fast, tight vibration with a slow sink rate, effective in murky or downright muddy shallows. The Indiana blade splits the difference. Regardless of shape, smaller blade sizes with less resistance will sink faster for covering deeper water.

Tandem-bladed spinnerbaits usually employ two blades of the same shape, but mixing is a legitimate option; for example, a trailing willowleaf blade can be mated with a smaller Colorado up front. This combo imparts a rolling wobble with a counterpoint of tight flutter.

Blades are available in a variety of colors with hammered or polished finishes. Under most circumstances, gold is the coin of the realm.-J.D.

Love to Hate the Spinnerbait?
The first bass on morning one of a two-day bass fishing tournament fell prey to a tandem-bladed spinnerbait. The lure glanced off the boulder next to a fallen tree and stopped momentarily as I applied pressure. The fish swam upcurrent with a mind of its own.

"It's a pike! Too big for a bass," shouted my partner. I relaxed. Pike don't excite in a bass-cash deal. They're just a time-wasting nuisance.

My partner slid the net into the murky water and plucked out a 5-pound 7-ounce largemouth. With the eventual tournament lunker in the live well, I loved that spinnerbait.

I was ready for the next bite. As the spinnerbait rode over the submerged log, a 3-pounder engulfed the bait. I let the fish turn to ensure a solid hookset and swept with all my might.

The result? A fish in the air heading north, and a spinnerbait-also in the air-sailing south. Now I hated that spinnerbait.

The tournament, which occurred 15 years ago, was the beginning of my love-hate relationship with this popular lure. As a fish-finding tool, the spinnerbait is superior to most lures. It can be fished from the surface to the bottom with a variety of retrieves. Rip it along, slow-roll it, or jig it. Expect to get bit. But as a fish-hooking tool, it leaves something to be desired. Expect fish and spinnerbait to part company before you want them to.

Smart tournament anglers often use the spinnerbait in practice to locate fish, but when money is on the line, they turn to higher-landing-percentage baits in actual competition. With a jig-and-pig, for example, you'll land a much higher percentage of bites, and I much prefer fewer bites from quality fish that I can boat to the gut-wrenching sight of the one that got away.

If you insist on using what some anglers refer to as idiot baits (for their simplicity of use), heed one small bit of advice: Sharpen the hook! There's no such thing as a spinnerbait hook that's too sharp.

Love it or hate it, the spinnerbait is a necessary evil for many anglers. For my money I'll continue to hate the spinnerbait even though there are always one or two tied on rods strapped to the deck of my boat.-Scottie Keller

Stinger Hooks
Tandem-bladed spinnerbaits usually employ two blades of the same shape, but mixing is a legitimate option; for example, a trailing willowleaf blade can be mated with a smaller Colorado up front. This combo imparts a rolling wobble with a counterpoint of tight flutter.

Blades are available in a variety of colors with hammered or polished finishes. Under most circumstances, gold is the coin of the realm.-J.D.

Love to Hate the Spinnerbait?
The first bass on morning one of a two-day bass fishing tournament fell prey to a tandem-bladed spinnerbait. The lure glanced off the boulder next to a fallen tree and stopped momentarily as I applied pressure. The fish swam upcurrent with a mind of its own.

"It's a pike! Too big for a bass," shouted my partner. I relaxed. Pike don't excite in a bass-cash deal. They're just a time-wasting nuisance.

My partner slid the net into the murky water and plucked out a 5-pound 7-ounce largemouth. With the eventual tournament lunker in the live well, I loved that spinnerbait.

I was ready for the next bite. As the spinnerbait rode over the submerged log, a 3-pounder engulfed the bait. I let the fish turn to ensure a solid hookset and swept with all my might.

The result? A fish in the air heading north, and a spinnerbait-also in the air-sailing south. Now I hated that spinnerbait.

The tournament, which occurred 15 years ago, was the beginning of my love-hate relationship with this popular lure. As a fish-finding tool, the spinnerbait is superior to most lures. It can be fished from the surface to the bottom with a variety of retrieves. Rip it along, slow-roll it, or jig it. Expect to get bit. But as a fish-hooking tool, it leaves something to be desired. Expect fish and spinnerbait to part company before you want them to.

Smart tournament anglers often use the spinnerbait in practice to locate fish, but when money is on the line, they turn to higher-landing-percentage baits in actual competition. With a jig-and-pig, for example, you'll land a much higher percentage of bites, and I much prefer fewer bites from quality fish that I can boat to the gut-wrenching sight of the one that got away.

If you insist on using what some anglers refer to as idiot baits (for their simplicity of use), heed one small bit of advice: Sharpen the hook! There's no such thing as a spinnerbait hook that's too sharp.

Love it or hate it, the spinnerbait is a necessary evil for many anglers. For my money I'll continue to hate the spinnerbait even though there are always one or two tied on rods strapped to the deck of my boat.-Scottie Keller

Stinger Hooks<

Flipping Out

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 16 Apr 2002 08:20:00 -0400

Sight-casting to shallow bass on nests is an important aspect of fishing during the spawn, and flipping and pitching are excellent techniques for the angler armed with a casting rod to cover these close-quarters targets.

Both methods use an underhand delivery, allowing a soft and accurate presentation. The serious sharpshooter is on his feet; the higher vantage provides superior visibility and allows the necessary space and leverage to coordinate the cast.

A heavy, compact payload (such as an eel jig or lead-weighted lizard) is required to load the rod during the short arc of the underhand cast, but the low, flat angle of delivery allows the caster to "feather" the drop for a quiet entry. This is a huge advantage over the powerful, conventional overhand cast on a skittish fish hugging a tight strike zone.

An accurate delivery placed on top of a nest also allows a vertical presentation; the first thing the bass sees is the fluttering, enticing lure descending from above. This presentation allows the angler to use a heavy line with little risk of spooking bass-and heavy line is the percentage choice when big sows are within reach of tangling cover.

Crappie Commando

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 26 Mar 2002 06:35:00 -0500

Butch Terpe raised his rod and, following a delicate give and take, lifted a 14-inch white crappie into the boat. A bright "slab" always looks special -- the freckled shoulders gleam, the big eyes stare, and the fins bristle. The mint cleanness on the water is surpassed only by the sweet flavor on the table.

Terpe unhooked the crappie and dropped it into the live well. He smiled. "How many does that make?" I asked.

"From this brushpile? Nine, no, 10."

"No, this spring."

"Well, I can't give you an exact number, but a fair guess would be at least 7,000."

Terpe is a full-time fishing guide on Lake Conroe, Texas, a 21,000-acre public reservoir approximately one hour northeast of Houston. Conroe receives heavy pressure, especially during the spring, yet Terpe consistently puts half-day parties of two or three anglers on 30 to 50 crappies (the limit is 25 per day, 10-inch minimum). The "Crappie Commando" posts these numbers morning and afternoon, day after day, week after week.

Your Uncle Fred might rack up a big string now and then, but Terpe's polished act on hard-fished open water is difficult to match. He has refined the lazy game of "perch jerking" to a science, and his method should score on any big lake that holds fishable numbers of crappies.

"I concentrate on defined cover like a brushpile or a bridge piling, and I like depths between 12 and 20 feet for vertical fishing," says Terpe. "Fish in less than 10 feet tend to spook from the straight-overhead hull commotion, and fish much deeper than 25 feet get difficult to read -- especially if it's windy."

The Crappie Commando's assault is based on three factors: approach, tackle, and technique.

Approach
"This is pinpoint fishing, so positioning is very important," Terpe says. "Crappies on defined cover tend to stack tight and won't move far to eat. I use a chart recorder to locate my submerged cover, and once I find the spot, I toss a small marker buoy just to the side."

Terpe uses both an anchor and a trolling motor. "If it's slick calm, I'll run just the trolling motor, but if the lake is chopping, I'll slip the anchor. I like a heavy anchor line that doesn't chew up your hands because in a typical half day of Â¿Â¿Â¿brush hopping,' I do a lot of moving -- maybe eight or 10 holes. And I like a long line so I can drop anchor well upwind and drift back into position without spooking the fish."

An example of Terpe's fine-tuned approach is his use of two small mushroom anchors knotted together rather than a single larger one; the two lighter anchors are easier to hoist repeatedly, but they spread out on bottom for a positive hold.

"When I anchor I also use a bow-mounted trolling motor; this is important. The anchor may keep you at a set length, but the wind can kick the boat side to side. You've got to stay lined up by checking that marker buoy, and bumping the trolling motor helps me adjust."

Tackle
Terpe deliberately overloads with casting or spincasting rods and 12-pound monofilament line. The heavier gear provides more authority -- not for the fish but for the fishing.

"Light spinning gear is frustrating for vertical fishing in deep water over heavy cover," he says. "A 4- or 6-pound spinning line is hard to control in the wind, and any snag pretty much means a lost rig. The 12-pound mono is a good compromise. And I like a fluorescent green line; it's easy to see, and it helps telegraph soft strikes.

"A short, limber rod also helps. By short, I mean 5, maybe 51Â¿Â¿2 feet. Long rods aren't necessary for vertical fishing, and the extra length just gets in the way."

Terpe uses only a hook and weight -- no cork or float. A gold Aberdeen 1/0 hook (thin wire, wide gap) is the standard along with the 2- to 21Â¿Â¿2-inch shiner minnows that he maintains are superior for all-aroound crappie fishing. Larger minnows might tempt the occasional big slab, but they encourage misses from routine 10- to 12-inch keepers. Regardless of shiner length, he places the hook behind the dorsal fin. He typically uses a 3Â¿Â¿8- or 1Â¿Â¿2-ounce bullet-type slip weight. The heavy weight on free-spool carries the hook and minnow down through the water column and gives authority for reading a tight line against surface chops. A light pinch of weight can get lost in open water.

"I peg the weight with a broken toothpick about 7 to 10 inches above the hook. That distance is a good compromise around cover. Too short restricts the bait movement, and too long allows the minnow to tangle in the brush. You want an active minnow on a tight rein."

Technique
Crappies schooling around defined cover often suspend. The effective way to locate action is to free-line to the bottom, then raise the minnow in one- or two-crank increments until something happens.

Crappie strikes are soft, and a fish moving in or up might even unweight the line. Most crappies are weak fighters. "I don't mess with a landing net," Terpe says. "Here's where that short rod helps. As you raise a crappie to the surface, reel it to within about 3 feet of the tip, keeping the rod low, then swing the fish over the side. The short rod gives you a low, tight arc, and the soft tip acts as a shock absorber. You hardly ever lose one when you do this in one smooth motion. What you don't want to do is hold a big slab on the surface and let it thrash and twist; that can tear a hook."

A delicate touch is a big asset in this finesse fishing, and the best way to react to a tap or tremor is to simply lift the rod tip to set the point in the tissue-thin mouth. This is a disciplined skill at odds with the celebrated "eye-crossing" hookset doctrine so prevalent in bass fishing.

And if the resistance was caused by a 200-pound brown log rather than a 2-pound white perch, the tentative response should avoid burying the point. "When you snag, free-spool about a rod's length of line," says Terpe, "then raise the rod high and throw the tip to the water level. This drops 5 or 6 feet of slack and allows that heavy sinker to fall below the snagged hook. The quick drop should pull the point free, but you need that extra line to get the momentum going."

If the dropback technique fails, point the rod down the line, reel tight, and pull straight up. The 12-pound line should open the thin-wire hook -- an efficient advantage of the heavier tackle.

The first strikes usually are fast once a kicking shiner reaches a hovering gang of crappies; however, the tightly clustered fish may wise up after six or eight are jerked from the ranks. If no follow-up action occurs after 15 or 20 minutes, Terpe recommends moving.

"It's a mistake to sit for an hour or two on a specific hole if you're not catching fish. You should have several spots you can hit during an outing. You can always rest a good spot then ease back several hours later," he says.

"Another advantage of moving is that you never know what you'll find. A brushpile or treetop on a natural intercept area like a main lake point or the edge of a channel will attract all sorts of predators in a big reservoir. And they all like a live minnow. I've put crappie clients on 8- and 9-pound largemouth bass and 20- and 30-pound blue catfish. A big catfish is touch-and-go, but the casting tackle gives you a chance.

"Use my methods for crappie, and you also might catch the biggest fish of your life."