Crappieville

Can't you feel 'em circlin' honey, can't you feel 'em swimmin' around? You've got fins to the left, fins to the right and you're the only bait in town. After the last couple days of fishing, I can tell you that the crappies in the bay just around the bend from our family cabin know exactly how the bartender in Jimmy Buffett's song feels.

Crappies have it bad, really bad. In the world of angling, they've got three strikes against them. First, they're low on the food chain, making up the niche just above bluegills and just below the bigger predators. Second, they're easy to catch, usually obliging any bait bounced in front of them, assuming it's the size of their mouths. Third, they taste great coated in flour, salt and pepper and flash fried in some hot peanut oil, then served with a side of boiled baby red potatoes.

We had set up on a wicked inside bend of what my uncle used to tell me was the old channel that wound its way out of the bay toward the main lake. Certainly, the feature had the characteristics of an ancient waterway that fed the basin centuries ago, but was now under fifteen feet of water. This particular point on the channel bent hard into the weedline and sloped up into four feet of water, creating a gigantic holding pocket. After changing latitudes a few times, my brother and I found the spot we fished as kids through dead reckoning and sonar.

It wasn't long after that when the first crappie took my tube and came aboard the Grumman. We would quickly realize however, that we were not the only predators in the area. The wall created by the channel gave big fish a reason to be close by. One, two, three times the red-tipped tail and dorsal fin of a muskie, maybe 45-inches in length, came to the surface, porpoising and disappearing back under the water. The fish corralled the crappies beneath us and kept them in the holding area, undoubtedly thinning the herd like a wolf to buffalo. These particular crappies, indeed, had it bad; with the fins that were circling them, and the sons-of-a-son-of-a-sailor just above them.

In the early afternoon, the fish related close to the bottom, rising only slightly to baits presented just above them. A slow fall or slight jiggle was the key after an eight- or ten-second countdown. However, it wasn't hard to find the pattern on this little spot-on-a-spot and it got easier as the evening wore on.

As the August sun sank over the western hills and into the red-orange harvest dust horizon, the crappies began to rise, taking tiny tubes in the top few feet of the water column. Near sunset, the eager biters would slash at the bait a split second after it cracked the surface. I even witnessed two fish follow a hooked slab up to the boat, a sight I had only seen with smallmouth bass.

We had live bait with, but never needed it. Just light line, 1/16-ounce jigs, and silver glitter crappie tubes were all that were required for the fastest action of the summer. As I gazed into the mesmerizing green, gold and black side of one particular ten-inch specimen, I almost regretted keeping such a beautiful and eager creature for dinner.

However, staring at the plate in front of me an hour later, that regret was replaced by Pavlovian drool. The oil still hummed on the golden fillets that were piled on my plate, steam rose off the farmer's market spuds and a tall glass of milk stood on fire watch. Summer nights are defined by many eating events, that first warm night barbecue in May, the Nathan's hot-dog contest on the Fourth of July, and various fish fries scattered from April to August. My guess is that crappies make up the bulk of the fillets served at them.

And with good cause; they're attractive to all predators - human or fish. They're fun to catch, providing consistent action on most any given evening. And finally, they're the highlight of any warm weather menu. Enjoy the homestretch of summer over a school of slabs on your favorite water. From the first cast to the last fillet you can guarantee with crappies, it won't be wasted away...in our outdoors.
 
Photo:  Sunset Slabs - Adam Marthaler of Valley City, N.D. with a pair of nice crappies from an evening of fishing on Big Detroit Lake, Minn.