A dying plastic minnow, shining and flickering in the golden light below, draws the attention of bottom-hugging perch, drawing them from their crevices. That’s the plan. Up they come to join the puppet show, prey to be, now more visible at a distance to cruising predators.
Some minutes later, in classic fashion, the perch flash onto their sides and scatter among the rocks. Oblivious to the danger, my minnow continues its death dance. Quiet. Too quiet. Like watching a scary movie, with Mr. Plastic Minnow pitted against the unseen villain. We know the toothy bad guy is about to flash onto the screen, but we don’t know when, from which direction, or exactly what he’s going to do.
A long, dark form with wide pectoral fins zooms in from directly under my feet, consumes the plastic minnow, and moves off, doing more than the speed limit. “Goin’ somewhere?” I say under my breath, as with hope in my heart I rear back on the runaway lake trout. Not so much a fight at first as a hang-on-a-thon, as in hang onto your rod or lose it down the hole.
In just 12 feet of water, the fish has nowhere to go but sideways, and out it goes with freaky strength, the smoothness of the drag appreciated, until finally I win back all the line and the fatigued fish rests in the hole as I unhook it.
Jigging up big predators––lake trout, pike, and walleyes––is the topic. General differences between these species are important. Lake trout, for example, often are the most active of the three under ice, followed by pike, with walleyes only moderately aggressive most of the winter.
Plastics have proven to be most effective when fish are aggressive.
Bringing Out The Heartless Fox
Let’s begin in clear, shallow water, using a system that takes big lake trout and pike––plastic minnow bodies rigged on a single hook, fished as a dying minnow. While walleyes occasionally respond to plastics, they’re not generally a top option for them.
Rick Wood has spent a lot of time refining this approach, experimenting with a variety of body lengths and styles (he calls them “rubber shads”) and recently glass rattles and split shot to add sound and a bit of weight. He concentrates on lake trout in shallow clear water, rarely deeper than 20 feet, often from 12 to 15 feet, and always sight fishing.
The soft plastic bodies have flash, to be sure, but they’re subtle. Still, they have drawing power, calling fish into the hole from a distance. If predators can spy perch tight to the bottom, they can see a dying minnow several feet up. And triggering appeal? Their action is so hapless that it brings out the heartless fox in these big fish. They often zoom into the hole with purpose, and hit with abandon.
The goal in fishing for predators through the ice is to make the bait scream “pick me” out of the crowd of natural food. These baits do that, but require salesmanship on your part. Anyone can learn to do it, though, and the action of the bait builds anticipation, which keeps you alert until the bad guys show up.
This type of presentation works in deep or dark water, too. But being able to see what the bait is doing is important, though, making the clear shallows its primary application.
