I stood on the bank of a Florida river and tossed pellets of moist bread to the bluegills swarming below. A number of boats were tied up nearby, and the bream, as Southerners call bluegills, were congregated beneath the boats in the shade. As each pellet struck the water a host of little fellows rushed out. First to make the dash, each time, were bluegills about two inches long.
Just as the tiny ones picked at the bread, I would toss out more. Then the four- and five-inchers would rush out to “elbow” the two-inchers aside. And, finally, if I kept the bread coming, several old bruisers weighing a pound or better would come bulling their way into the mob, scattering the small fry, and shouldering up front to smash the next pellet.
I have seen this same routine many times, and with many different species of fish. But it especially interests me with bluegills because so many fishermen seem to think that this most dynamic of our panfish, good fighter and table fish though he may be, isn’t very bright. Anybody, they claim, can catch bluegills. Their claim is true – partly. Anybody can catch small bluegills, and once in a great while almost anybody can catch big ones, when they happen to be on a feeding craze. But most of the time, only the few really wise bluegill fishermen get the king-size specimens. Many fishermen never even realize what big bluegills are in the lakes they fish. The ones they call big ones may be only the middle-size fish.
First among all fishing tips is don’t underestimate the wariness of the big ones.
If you would join the “big-fish” group, start with some basic reasoning. Given a favorable habitat, the bigger a bluegill is the older he is. Obviously, the older he is the wiser he is, else he never would have grown big. When you stop to think that out of every thousand bluegills hatched only a very few — perhaps only one or two — live to be “old gentlemen” of three, four or more years, you suddenly realize what an uncertain existence these fellows live. Only the bright boys grow big. And the big boys grow brighter.
Just as a rooster pheasant which still doesn’t have all his tail feathers will act mighty stupid compared with a crafty old codger who has passed through two gunning seasons unscathed, so bluegills of large size take a great deal more catching skill than do their “kids.” And so it seems to me that a fellow ought to lay the groundwork for catching big bluegills by giving his target credit for some brains, just as he would if he were out to fool an enormous brown trout. Thus prepared with the proper mental attitude, you’re in a better frame of mind to blame yourself rather than the fish when the big boys don’t come through.
Let’s go back to those fish to which I tossed the bread. Southern bluegills, especially, seem to be extremely fond of bread. I’ve fed schools of them many times just to see how they would react. The large ones always were most reluctant. They watched first to see what happened to the little ones. If nothing happened — whammo!
On several occasions I tried a further experiment. First, I began by baiting a small hook with a bread pellet and tossing it out. Immediately, I would catch tiny bluegills. I could keep on catching these very small ones for some time. But if I began with the hook I could be almost certain no large one would strike after the little ones had got into trouble.
Next, I tried tossing out free samples, getting the fish all steamed up. Meanwhile, I had a small baited hook ready, on a fine leader. When I had tossed out enough bread to get the big boys bulling their way in, I suddenly tossed out the piece with the hook in it. Bang! Immediately, I was fast to a big bruiser that shot out to beat the smaller ones to the bait. However, after I had brought him in, right before the eyes of all the others, I could not easily work the trick again.
But the most interesting observation came later. It showed just how discerning the wise old boys can be. I would toss out pellets until I got the big fellows feeding avidly. Then out would go one with a hook in it. If I tossed the pellets a little distance away from the hiding place, so the fish had to run some few yards after them, the one with the hook, which sank more swiftly than the others, would sink deeper and the fish wouldn’t touch it. They knew immediately that this fast-sinking piece was a phony.
All of the foregoing would seem to be telling how not to catch fish. But I have often thought that if anglers could watch the reactions of fish they would learn much sooner what they must do to be successful. So, the most important gimmick I know of for catching big old bluegills is to keep from underestimating the wariness of the big “blighters.”
Those bluegills I played around with in Florida could easily see me. Naturally, that made a difference. But all it did was exaggerate somewhat an already thoroughly-ingrained wariness. Studying their reactions recalled a method used in the South for taking enormous bluegills that I have almost never seen used up North.
I went with an old fisherman out into a big lake in Florida. We were equipped with fairly whippy plug rods and a big can of worms. He told me we were going after “the biggest bluegills you ever saw.” He didn’t exaggerate.
The rig was set up as follows: A six-foot length of fairly fine leader, with a bell sinker attached to the end. Then a foot-long dropper tied on a little way up the leader, with the hook, baited with a sizeable gob of worm, attached here.
We didn’t fool around inshore, along the weed-beds. We went way offshore, a good two hundred yards. The bottom there had no weeds at all. It was extremely soft sand where mollusks and various worms and crustaceans burrowed.
I was advised to make just as long a cast as I could, then barely tighten my line and wait. In other words, it was strictly garden-variety bottom fishing. But I soon began to see the idea behind it. The water was not more than six or eight feet deep. Fishing close to the boat would possibly frighten the big boys we were supposed to be after. And if we fished with a float, so that the bait dangled vertically, it certainly would not look very natural.
On the other hand, the long cast put us far away from the intended catch. The leader, sinker, and barely-tight line, lying on bottom along the soft sand, would show little if at all, and probably they were actually covered. A roving fish would pick up the wriggling worm without the slightest suspicion.
That is exactly what happened. I soon felt a minor tug. I set the hook. There were some real fireworks at the line’s end. We sat right there making casts in a circle around us, and caught twenty of the most amazingly-big bluegills I have ever seen.
Coming in to shore, we saw a tourist fisherman and his wife still-fishing with floats and worm-baited hooks. They were in fairly deep water just off the weedbeds. They called excitedly to tell us they were catching some tremendous bluegills. Then they showed us their catch. We didn’t tell them, but ours were half again as big.
It seemed reasonable to me to believe that bluegills grown as large as the ones we had caught no longer hung to the weedbeds. It takes plenty of coal to make a big engine go. These big boys were roving hunters who went after larger food in more open waters. The average fisherman would never even suspect that bluegills of such size were in the lake in numbers.
I fished a Michigan lake last year where only very thin weeds grow on a sand and clay bottom. I tried top-water flies. No go. Bluegills were deep. I went over to bait and still-fished with a fioat, holding the bait barely off bottom and caught a few small ones. Then I changed to the Florida method. Nothing happened — until I lifted my rod to reel in. At the lift of the rod, which moved the bait slightly along bottom, there was a real whack. And in came one of those old bluegills, big and round as a dinner plate.
Here was a switch in the on-bottom Southern method. I continued to cast out, let the bait sink and lie still for a few minutes, then move it a foot or so, let lie, move a foot or so, let lie. Eventually, one of the moves would bring a tremendous strike. The method took longer than some, but it caught a limit of bluegills in the ten-inch-and-over class — certainly worth the waiting around.
In discussing this particular phase of bluegilling, let me offer another slant I learned in the South. It is one of those things every fisherman knows if he just pauses to think about it.
I was camped on the bank of one of Florida’s large, slow rivers. I took a fly rod and went down to get some bluegills for a meal. While in Florida, I had made a habit of carrying a few slices of stale bread along to check on the abundance of bluegills where I intended to fish. I tossed out a few bits. Slam, bang, wham! Medium-size fish were instantly batting at the bread. I started fishing and caught several within ten or fifteen feet of the shore. I was casting parallel to the shore.
I stood resting a moment and, for no good reason, idly tossing out more bread. Several times I wound up and threw a piece as far into the stream as I could. Imagine my surprise when fish started slamming these pieces with heavyweight strikes. The bluegills I saw rolling out there were positively huge. The answer came to me instantly. The bottom slanted out very sharply. The big fellows lay in water a lot deeper than the shore waters where the medium-size ones stayed.
Since that time I have caught hundreds of big bluegills in water a few feet deeper than that in which the more numerous medium fish lay. This is especially true in places where bluegills are found in large, slow streams. The current doesn’t bother the big ones as much as it does smaller ones, Moreover, the larger they are, the less they have to fear from natural enemies, and, consequently, the less need of the protection of shallow water. In lakes, also, I have watched people fishing close to shore and taking small bluegills while not thirty feet farther out I could pause and catch big ones.
Simple? Sure. But don’t scoff. It’s such a little thing it is often overlooked. After all, a fellow begins fishing and catching fish the size of his hand. He’s happy. It doesn’t occur to him that fish twice that big may be within a stone’s throw. Try combining this deep-water trick with the on-bottom method described. Find a place along shore where moderate-size bluegills can be taken. Then cast out another thirty feet to deeper water. You may get a nice surprise.
Each of these suggestions leads to another. Most articles on the bluegill instruct anglers to fish in ten or fifteen feet of water. Well and good. But some of the largest bluegills I have ever caught, especially in the North, came out of thirty to thirty-five feet of water. Very few bluegill fishermen ever go that deep.
Exact depth, too, may be very important. The real big boys be right on bottom and refuse to rise so much as a foot to take a bait but will readily take it off the bottom. Such unknowns can be solved only by trial and error.
There is another variation of the on-bottom, deep-water gimmick that I learned down South. (As a matter of fact, I discovered that Southerners have a whole bag of tricks in their old-fashioned kinds of fishing.) Bait with something that is a natural food peculiar to the fishing water. For example,in certain waters in the South big bluegills often eat small fresh water mussels, whenever they find them broken open, or catch them open. Not one fisherman in a hundred ever thinks of using such a bait. But the “how” of using this unorthodox (to the fisherman) bait is another gimmick. From a boat, the mussel is tossed toward shore into shallow water, then slowly pulled outward into deeper water.
Reversed, the trick isn’t half as effective for big bluegills. The big fellows lie in the deep-water shadows. Food “tumbles” down the slant of the bottom from out of the shallows and a big boy is waiting right there to seize it. Cast from shore and pulled back into the shallows, the bait is moving out of the hungry giant’s lair instead of into it. Unless the fish are really on the prod they don’t follow it.
The mention of mussels for bait brings to mind other unusual baits. I once found a lake full of big piles of rock, very few weedbeds — and lots of big bluegills. Lots of small and medium-size bluegills, too. The latter two sizes were what I caught, mostly. The big ones, however, I often saw darting into the cover of the rocks as the boat approached. How to catch them?
The lake also contained smallmouth bass. These fed avidly on small crawfish which were very common all along shore. The crustacean is not usually thought of as No. 1 bluegill food. But maybe a BIG bluegill would really go for one. Or so I began wondering. The rocks among which the big boys hid made the idea seem more logical than ever. I tried small crawfish, laying one on a rock and letting it crawl off — and I really murdered those king-sized bluegills. From here, I began using small crawfish tails for bait in other lakes, with excellent results. This led me to try fresh market-purchased shrimp. This saltwater delicacy sometimes drives big bluegills wild — but I never see anyone using it.
The spinning outfit is a great boon to the bait fisherman. It is handily adaptable to several of the foregoing methods for luring the bluegills because of the ease with which a natural presentation of the bait can be made and because of the low visibility of the line.
This brings us to the one item around which all else revolves for the artificials angler who wishes to catch the old bluegills. When bluegills are spawning, any kind of leader, lure, and even the sloppiest cast, will take them. But at all other times the leader will be the most important part of the tackle. It will separate the small-fish fishermen from the big-fish fishermen. Let me cite a brief illustration:
I know an ice-fishing enthusiast who has a local reputation for catching the largest bluegills. (I use ice-fishing here because during winter the wariness of big bluegills is exaggerated.) This fisherman will stand right beside another angler and catch big bluegills one after another while the other fisherman seethes with exasperation over small fish. The reason is ridiculously simple. The expert fishes with 2-pound test monofilament and barely moves his lure, while every-one else around used much larger monofilament and jigs the lure furiously, by comparison. This contrast reveals the whole secret of consistently getting the big boys on artificials, regardless of season.
We are happy to share this site we found for our readers that want to know more about ice fishing. Check out more articles on ice fishing at Ice Fishing Gear.
The popularity of spinning gear has sparked the manufacture of what is called “limp” nylon monofilament. The leader material is much smaller in diameter (and, therefore, less visible) per pound-age test than regular hard nylon. It does not kink or curl, Your sporting goods dealer can supply you with monofilament of this type as fine as one pound or one-and-a-quarter pound test. And possibly you can get it camouflage stained.
If your eyesight isn’t the best, you’ll have a struggle in tying knots in this ultra-fine stuff. The struggle will be worthwhile.
I will bet any fly fisherman that he can up his catch of outsize bluegills substantially by the simple expedient of learning; 1) how to cast a long (9- to 12-foot) leader made of this hair-fine material and, 2) how to handle a big bluegill on it without breaking off. Both accomplishments require finesse and patience. But when you are fishing a leader that a big bluegill just doesn’t see, he is going to crowd the fry out of the way to get at your lure.
Last year I tried an experiment. Fishing wet flies deep, in a place where I knew bluegills of several sizes lay, I first used heavy leader material that would show up plainly. I caught small fish. Then I changed to fairly fine stuff. I caught small fish, a few medium fish and one big fellow. Finally, I went to the long, one-pound material. Every time I succeeded in getting it down past the small and medium fish, I nailed a big one. You can prove the same thing to yourself with dry flies, wet flies, spinners — any lure you choose — especially when the fish are acting shy.
Now, what about choice of lures? I have fished many times when I could catch the biggest bluegills in the lake with any popping bug or surface fly in the box. But I have also seen times when the fish were actually taking surface food such as small May flies. At these times, the big ones would not touch popping bugs, although smaller fish would. A very small (No. 10 or 14) gray or dull-colored fine leader — will pick the big ones right out of the crowd.
Ordinarily, small popping bugs — especially bugs with rubber legs — will do the trick. But there are several gimmicks that can be used when you are having trouble taking the big fellows on the surface, yet know they are feeding non-selectively at the top.
Pick out a place like the base of a cypress bole, down South, or a big stump in a cove, up North. Approach it just as carefully as you would for a trout. Select the spot to place your cast, make a few false whips, and then lay down one single, perfect cast. Let the bug lie immobile for several minutes, then give it just one tiny pop. Sometimes, with the careful approach, you will get the big boy the moment the bug hits. Sometimes you will have to wait for him. Invariably, he’ll hit when the bug is lying still. So, be patient. But if you don’t get a hit, move on and come back to this fish later on.
A quite opposite gimmick can be resorted to when the fish just seem unwilling to hit at all. Select a cove with plenty of depth and cover that looks right, and where you know fish have been. Make cast after cast, working each one out carefully. Make twenty casts. Make thirty — right in the same area. After a while a small fish will take a poke. Then another — and another. Keep right on. But be sure you are using a bug (and hook) big enough to prevent your hooking the small fish. Eventually some big boy lying there watching, is going to be unable to resist. He’ll come rushing out, knock the others out of the way, and latch on. I have successfully used this gimmick scores of times while others cruised the lake shore moaning about no luck.
One other trick for the surface is late fishing. Now I know that as a general rule bluegills stop hitting (except during spawning season) shortly after dark. But quite often you can fish the likely spots and take some enormous fish right on through until midnight. Not always. But at times. The reason it can be done is that a very large bluegill is quite a different character from his average-size brother. He needs lots of food, and he’s a vicious chap. His feeding habits change drastically as he grows older and larger.
There are tricks, too, to be used with wet flies and nymphs. In fact, the use of nymphs instead of standard wet flies is one of the best tricks I know for taking big bluegills when they are down, for various aquatic nymphs are natural bluegill food. The real trick here is patience. You have to get the fly down to the fish which may be twenty feet deep. It takes a long time for a fly, leader, and line to sink. But if you go out far enough from shore to find the deep-lying big boys and can wait out the long sink after each cast, you are usually going to get results.
“I did everything you told me,” one angler once moaned, in reference to deep nymph fishing. “And when the strike came it was so light, so far away and so deep, I couldn’t feel it.”
Sure. But here is where another gimmick comes in. You don’t need to feel it. Use a long leader, with no dressing on the forward portion of your line but with the remainder well dressed. A big bluegill which grabs a nymph or wet fly down deep will not spit it out instantly. This is one time when, as a rule, he will act like a dope. He’ll seize the fly and run with it. You have all the time there is to set the hook.