Ask 100 anglers what they think of when the term “gamefish” is mentioned, and you’ll probably get one of four answers.
Nationwide, it’s going to be the largemouth bass. Ol’ bucketmouth has more than his own cheering section. Ray Scott founded the Bass Anglers Sportsman Society, and about a half million members spend most of their free time chasing bass. Maybe it’s a guy thing, but men had to take an otherwise relaxing sport and turn it into a competition. Competitive bass fishing has created well-paid, well-sponsored tournament anglers who fish for cash and bass boats.
Speaking of pro anglers, there are folks who also fish for walleyes and earn a good living doing so. If you like to eat fish, the walleye is a good choice.
In Wisconsin and on other northern waters, the next two heavy hitters are northern pike and muskies. I am grouping these two together, partly because they are related, have sharp teeth, grow to frightening size and can require enormous time, patience and gear to catch.
Trout are in a class of their own. There are wild, native trout and the put-and-take stocked variety. We also have two types of trout anglers: Those who want fish to eat and show up with a can of corn to meet the DNR stocking trucks, and those who hope to land a trophy native trout and prefer fly fishing or finesse spinning tackle to find hidden streams and solitude a la “And a River Runs Through It.”
Yet chances are good that the first fish you ever caught weren’t bass, walleyes, trout, pike or muskies. If they weren’t bullheads, they were panfish.
My first memories of fishing with my dad in northern Illinois involved cane poles, worms, bobbers and bluegills, with an occasional bullhead tossed in. My dad had a giant, metal possum-belly tackle box full of oddball tools, terminal tackle and lures, but I never once saw Dad use a lure. We bought or caught nightcrawlers, and that was a given when we went fishing.
A small kid doesn’t need a giant fish to produce a giant smile. Those first tugs at the bobber and then seeing it disappear below the surface are magical, and both the fish and kid are instantly hooked.
Dad helped my younger brother, Brent, and I remove the fish from the line, put them on the stringer and cleaned them. As I grew older, I enjoyed removing my own fish from the hook. Brent and I often wanted to keep every fish, and Dad would groan as he added another small fish to the stringer.
I don’t know of any formal panfishing organizations, but I think there should be. This may be because panfishing is just fun, and it is hard to get serious about it. Other than some ice fishing tournaments, panfishing pro competition would frankly ruin the fun. I did discover a Facebook page called Panfish Fanatics Group with 35,000 followers.
A family trip to Lily Lake near Pickerel the last week of June helped me rediscover the pure joy of panfishing. In living up to the long tradition of outdoors writers failing to catch much of anything, I thoroughly enjoyed watching my daughter, Kalispell, catch what I believe was the biggest bluegill I have seen in person.
Using a Barbie rod and reel outfit she bought for $11 recently at Walmart (even though Dad owns at least 25 rods and reels), a trout worm and a bobber, she giggled and squealed as she fought the scrappy ’gill.
When the fish cleared the water, I saw its size and thought it might be a crappie. Then I saw the distinctive bluish hue and dark spot on the gill cover to confirm this slab bluegill’s identity.
Technically, a bluegill is in the sunfish family.
Crappies are panfish, too, but they tend to be a bit harder to catch (unless you find a school of them) and have an almost cult following in some circles.
I’m not sure why I didn’t try to measure or weigh the trophy, but I wanted to release it right away. Fishing at Lily Lake where my father-in-law has a home is always a challenge, mainly because of an infestation of rusty crayfish. The lake association has tried everything to get rid of the invasive species, including professional trapping, but nothing has helped.
Kali, 19, fished more intently this year than ever, trying her best for parts of four days. I had fun just sitting next to her, talking and soaking up the sun while listening to the loons call.
Fishing can be very relaxing, if you allow it. No competitive buddies, no run-and-gun searches, not even any fish to disturb the solitude.
Fishing can be a lot like bowhunting. If not for a fishing rod or bow in hand, I’d just be communing with nature and watching this uncivilized world float slowly by.
Maybe that should be the ultimate goal anyway. With panfishing, it is.
Ross Bielema is a freelance writer from New London and owner of Wolf River Concealed Carry LLC. Contact him at Ross@wolfriverccw.com.
Panfish don’t get the credit they deserve
