The initial results are encouraging. A fish immediately rises for my bait and I set the hook solidly. Not a big fish, but it’s a start. Again I lower my jig and get a similar response, then another before things quiet down. Undaunted, I move to the next hole and experience a repeat performance…three more fish are iced before I choose to move again. Here, I hook a bluegill of smaller stature…then, unexpectedly, things slow down.
I continue moving and backtracking through the most productive holes. I know where the fish are concentrated, but the ones I’m catching are running rather small, and as the sun rises in the sky, even those fish are dropping down and becoming less active.
A Different Strategy
I decide to switch lures, and go with a new micro bait of my own design—the HT Marmooska Tungsten Dancer. This lure consists of a small, bullet shaped, silver plated tungsten body, positioned vertically on a straight wire base with a tiny #16 epoxy coated colored treble hook hanging from a loop at the bottom. This design offers several advantages.First, the body is small in profile, but made of tungsten so it’s relatively heavy and sinks efficiently. This makes it easy to drop quickly to the desired depth—even among weeds—while providing an outstanding sense of feel, so even the slightest bite from a finicky bluegill can be easily detected. Furthermore, the plated finish provides a slight, fish attracting flash without being overpowering, the colored epoxy treble offers contrasting color, and the small, super-sharp hook is perfect for sticking finicky bluegills.As the name suggests, this little hook also dances seductively beneath the body, allowing a unique range of motion from an aggressive rock to a slight shake. I love this versatility, because I can aggressively pound the Dancer to create the rocking motion that draws fish in, or progressively slow things down to little more than simple shake—only as much as needed to trigger strikes. This wide range of versatility perfectly suits working these fussy, scattered winter gills.
I tip a spike on each tine of the treble and begin lowering the tiny bait—which oddly strikes me as resembling a miniature octopus with five legs removed—beneath the ice. I start by rocking the lure relatively aggressively. A curious fish rises to inspect my strange creation, and although I keep the bait moving, slightly reduce the amount of jigging motion while ever so gingerly lifting it upward. The fish responds, and the bend in my rod indicates this is a larger one, too. Sweet!
I lift the fish into the hole, and immediately realize it’s a respectable 8” class fish. This is more like it!
Continuing to work from hole to hole—always starting high and keeping my bait above the marked fish, allowing them to come up for it—I’m experiencing success. Again, I’ve found the more I can get fish to “stack” vertically, the better I’m able to pull the most active ones up quickly from the top, and the more likely it is I’ll be able to sustain the action. The activity up high tends to draw other curious fish up while often triggering a feeding response from other fish below—and as a secondary advantage, I’m not drawing struggling panicked fish up through the remainder of the school, causing those fish to spook or leave the area, so I can come back and work them, too. The strategy is going according to plan.
Aron approaches. “Okay,” he grimaces. “What are you doing differently?” I’m a bit surprised by his question, because I’d become so immersed in what I was doing I had stopped looking up to check on Aron, simply assuming he was catching fish, too.
“I’ve been watching you,” he explains, “and you’re getting at least twice the action I am.”