Today's world of bigger toys for bigger boys surely plays right into the hands of the modern macho musky man with his "big bait = big fish" mentality. While lures of 8 inches or more were considered " big" a few years back, they're merely average by ‘90's standards. Dozens of companies make magnum versions of their best products now. Magnum model jerkbaits, bucktails, crankbaits, and even topwater lures are available in sizes that exceed 10 inches in the tackle stores of a good musky shop. Some manufacturers even offer monster magnums of 12 inches or more!
Personally, I've always believed that big fish ate larger natural forage on average. Common sense does suggest that one of the key reasons larger muskies aren't caught more frequently is because they do indeed feed on larger forage than the rest of the pack. A few decades back, this theory was called "the expended energy principle". Basically, the line of thinking here was --- bigger fish got big because they didn't waste energy. Unlike their smaller cousins, who'd actively chase after prey of all sizes, lunkers would lethargically select larger singular forage opportunities, and then "sit on it" for long periods of time. Instead of chasing after a school of perch, the lunker would lunch on one four pound sucker.
Arguably, this theory does have some validity. Behemoth bass commonly fall for foot-long plastic worms and shoe-sized live shiners than for standard version baits. The giant largemouths of California are most readily caught on huge rainbow trout lures of 10 inches or more. Whopper walleyes smash musky lures on a surprisingly routine basis. The largest chubs and jumbo-tron leeches nearly always produce more wallhangin' walleyes. And, big muskies do indeed get caught all the time on sow-suckers of 20 inches or more.
Yet, the latter can be argued that just as many trophy-class fish have fallen to small lures, as well. Statistically, it's a good bet that just as many big bass are taken each and every season on 4 to 6 inch plastic worms as well as other standard bass tackle. The same could be said about the big walleye productivity of a standard jig and minnow, small leeches, and Rapala-style lures. And how many monster muskies are still hooked accidentally by walleye and bass anglers? As often as this happens, the success stats are actually a bit misleading since most of these big fish encounters result in a broken line. I'm confident that far more 30-pound muskies would be taken by walleye fishermen on any given season than the musky masses if a wire leader was employed. I guess the ultimate argument could be made for small baits with Jake Novak's world record tiger of 52 inches and Ken O'Brien's 65 pounder on a small Rapala!
If size really does matter, as the new Godzilla flick suggests, than why haven't the record books been rewritten with the new magnum version lures? I don't claim to have the answer. I'm merely asking the question. It appears that big baits do occasionally attract big fish strikes, but history definitely proves that small lures produce big fish with equal success. The trick is in knowing when to go big, and when to switch to a smaller offering. Let's take a look at a couple of my past experiences involving big fish with small lures, and analyze what, if any, significant findings are evident.
#1 THE SORE WRIST WHOPPER
A light August rain just let up, but dark overcast skies continued along with a soft-blowing breeze from the southwest. You would have thought the fish would have been biting, but up to this point, all we had to show for our efforts was two undersized fish along with a bunch of follows. However, one of these follows was from a big one of at least four feet long with a very thick body. The big fish was very aggressive to a point, following multiple times nose-to-the-bucktail, yet it wouldn't make that final commitment.
By 4 p.m. we, not only hadn't gotten this big fish to strike, but hadn't improved our score card with any other combatants. I had to get my friends back to the lodge by 6 p.m. for dinner so time was running out. Most of the action we'd had up to this point came on larger 7 to 9 inch bucktails in natural with a nickel-fluted blades. While a vast array of other lures had been tried, no one even considered something smaller. My guide customer's sore wrist from the long day of bucktail casting might have been an omen. As he dug for something "easy" from his tacklebox, I suggested a smaller version of the same bait that the big one kept following --- a 4-inch natural bucktail with a # 5 fluted blade in nickel.
Why we waited so long to try this bait is still beyond me. However, it didn't take more than a dozen casts or so before I felt the boat rock, heard the grunt of his hookset, and looked up to see the bathtub swirl of a big fish strike. A few minutes later, a 49-½ inch 33 pounder was in the net. By 5:00 p.m. two more muskies fell to the same small bucktail. Here was a classic documented case where downsizing made all the difference.
Since that day, I've never hesitated to try a small bucktail on a reluctant follower no matter what the season. Small bucktails often get mislabeled as "spring baits". Obviously, this 33 pounder didn't check the calendar before striking. And this musky is actually just one in a long list of small bucktail success stories with big fish after springtime. The legendary success of small bucktails such as the Mepps #5 on big muskies, no matter what the season, is indisputable. In fact, I distinctly remember a monster 54 incher weighing 43 pounds falling to this exact lure one hot August morning during mid 1970's from a lake right down from my home. I also remember how often conversations came up about why such a big fish would take such a small lure in the summer. This same misnomer still exists about small bucktails, big fish, and time of year today.
# 2 – THE BUOY TWINS
Back in the early 1980's, I found this great pattern on an otherwise fickle deep, clear lake in Ontario. While muskies were generally very hard to catch with conventional casting methods on this lake during nearly all other seasons, they'd move up onto shallow sand bars by mid August and remain there until around mid September, when the lake started to turnover. Some of the biggest muskies I've ever seen in this water would show up occasionally on one particular big mid lake bar on this lake. One of them was well over 40 pounds. These uncharacteristically shallow fish would respond to a variety of lures, but would mostly just follow them. They seemed to be partial, however, to a big torpedo style jerkbait like the Reef Hawg in the bright lime green color. It was only natural then to make this a must-use lure whenever attacking this water.
One dreary, cold early September day, I was fishing with two friends on this same lake when, just like nearly every other time out here, we were raising a bunch, but couldn't get ‘em to strike. Some of these ‘lunges were some real dandies. Once again, they seemed very fond of a large lime colored Reef Hawg, but they just wouldn't hit it. They'd only follow.
As a side bar, one of the attorneys was fishing with a new experimental low stretch line, and it turned out to have very poor knot strength and shock absorbing qualities. On top of that, he was fishing with a test rating of only 20 pounds which, in my opinion, is simply too light to withstand the lure weights being casted. Eventually he broke his line on the cast sending one of our only lime green Reef Hawgs to another planet.
His partner had the only remaining large Reef Hawg, but I had a smaller version of the same color so I offered it to him. He somewhat reluctantly accepted it, but immediately questioned how productive the smaller lure would be now. After all, these smaller baits were really best used only during the springtime, right?
I quickly suggested that he also switch back to a more conventional heavy weight 40-pound line and longer rod so that we wouldn't take a chance of loosing any more lures. He reluctantly accommodated my request, and offered to try the small jerkbait for a few minutes. If it didn't work, he'd give something else a try. Three casts later, a 48 incher engulfed the little jerkbait only a few feet from a floating buoy that marked the big fish's follow an hour before. A violent, exciting battle ensued, ending with a long painstaking surgery to remove the deeply embedded hooks. It took nearly 30 minutes to land, unhook, photograph and release this trophy of more than 30 pounds, but the seemingly long event was short by comparison to the amount of time beforehand trying to trigger one of these fish to hit. The broken line and lost large Reef Hawg was the key to unlocking of a long mystery of reluctant followers on this lake.
No more than six casts later, another big fish pounded the same bait not more than 20 yards from the same floating buoy. Although slightly slimmer and only a half an inch shorter than the first, it was nearly a twin of the big one he'd just caught. Within less than a dozen casts, this guy had taken two trophy class fish from almost the exact spot on the same bait. Interestingly, both fish had previously followed and followed the larger baits, but refused to bite. A few of these following fish even "boiled up" on the bigger lure, nudging it forward, but still they refused to commit to an all out strike. On the other hand, both muskies immediately attacked the smaller version with a totally aggressive attitude. It wasn't springtime, and the water wasn't cold. Once again, this has nothing to do with the calendar, the season, nor the water temperature. It had everything to do with size selectivity.
My good friend Tom Gelb, the recently retired vice president of Harley Davidson, one of the best all around musky anglers that I've ever known, has had many of the same experiences with lure size selectivity; particularly with regards to the small Reef Hawg. In fact, one of Tom's biggest fish, a 42 pounder, fell for a small Reef Hawg on Lake Of The Woods under very similar circumstances. Tom is quick to switch to the smaller sized bait whenever fish repeatedly follow, boil, and strike short. More often than not, switching to the smaller bait, no matter what the season, has made a big difference for him. I'm certain many other readers could also collaborate similar success stories. In a nutshell, the pattern seems to be -- size of lure had absolutely nothing to do with the calendar season, but everything to do with the mood of the fish.
# 3 ROCKIN' ROLL
Sometime back in the late 1970's I discovered a highly productive shallow rock reef pattern for stained water muskies. To be perfectly honest, this amazingly consistent musky pattern initiated from a walleye pattern. I stumbled onto muskies regularily while crankin' rock reefs for walleyes. The whole key was to find coffee stained water and some mid lake rock outcroppings that topped out at reachable crankbait casting depths of less than 8 feet. The whole key was to bump and tick the rocks with the plug. Essentially the actual technique involved a fairly long cast with a long billed, deep diver that had good buoyancy. The buoyancy enhanced the lure's ability to bounce, rise, and weave through the rocky terrain without snagging up. Mind you, it was nearly always essential to bump the bottom. It was more a rare occasion when a jerkbait, topwater plug, or bucktail would arouse these fish.
As soon as water temperatures climbed above 55 degrees in the spring, this pattern would start to take form. By mid summer, it would peak before both the walleyes and muskies moved off the reefs, and suspended during daylight hours. Sometimes a few of these fish would return to the shallow rocks after nightfall, but that required a whole different approach. Generally, another strong movement back onto these rocks would occur from late August through mid September and these fish would remain on the rocks until the water got cold enough to turnover.
When I first started nailing down this fantastic rock pattern, various walleye and bass sized crankbaits were the primary weapons since walleyes and bass were the primary targets. Later on I fine-tuned this pattern using larger crankbaits with a high level of success. However, there still were many times, no matter what the season, that muskies appeared to be small bait selective. This included spring, summer, and fall. No doubt there were plenty of times when my friends, guiding clients and I would take lots of fish on larger musky-sized crankbaits, but sometimes our efforts were unproductive with big baits. In fact, there was a period of years when we first really got onto big crankbait development that we'd exclusively fish only the bigger crankbait on such spots. If fish didn't respond to our big bait bombing, the pattern was considered "dead". However, one incident changed all that forever.
It just so happened that I had a combination walleye/musky guide trip scheduled one August day with a couple of stockbrokers from Chicago. Generally, I'd always start out with the walleye part of this equation whenever it was requested. My thinking here was that inexperienced customers had a much easier time psychologically sticking with muskies once they had a livewell full of walleyes. Usually this policy worked well. Of course, the walleyes had to cooperate or we'd never actually get much time in on muskies.
Just after daylight, I met two young stockbrokers at the boat landing. Their spinning outfits were loaded with 10-pound test and perch pattern walleye sized crankbaits. Their musky outfits had traditional 30 to 40-pound line with musky-sized perch cranker.s. Within a few casts on our first spot, the walleye action started. By 7 a.m. we'd boated a bunch of them, and it appeared that we were going to get plenty of time in pounding for muskies.
Just as we were about to move to another reef, one of the guys set the hook hard into what we all thought was yet another walleye. However, after nearly 20 minutes had passed, and we still hadn't landed this fish, it was unquestionably apparent that we had a big musky hooked. Finally, the big fish began to tire, and, after what seemed like eternity, a whipped 46-incher lay exhausted at boatside. After a few quick photos, and a careful release, we all decided that maybe it was time to break out the musky gear. Much to our disappointment, no more musky action followed and by 12 noon, everyone was anxious for lunch.
After lunch, we all decided to make another pass with musky baits over the reef where the 46-inch musky took the small crankbait earlier. About two dozen fruitless casts into the drift, the less experienced, less patient client put down his musky outfit and pitched a cast with the spinning rod and small crankbait again. I had no objection figuring at the very least he'd add to their already nice walleye creel while satisfying his need for a quick "fish fix". Just as I was finishing my figure 8, I overhead the sound of a spinning reel's drag slipping on the hookset. I looked up to see the same guy, who had never taken a musky up to this point, tied into another heavy fish. After another long battle, the net slipped under the second musky of the day, a 43 incher.
As you might have guessed, we couldn't talk this fellow back into casting a musky rod the rest of the day. What made matters even worse, this same guy boated yet another musky, a 39 incher, a few hours later on the same bait. We had casted large musky-sized crankbaits over these same spots for hours with no success, yet the smaller crankbait had taken three muskies plus a whole bunch of nice walleyes! This was another clear-cut case of bait size selectivity. If we hadn't tried the small crankbaits on walleyes, we'd never have even known there were muskies on these spots since the big lures gave us absolutely no indication.
I was taught a lesson on that day that has served me well ever since. Rarely will I work rock reefs without mixing bait sizes anymore. My recent experiments with our new downsized version of the original DepthRaider have further opened my eyes to the value of testing for bait-size selectivity on muskies. As I write this article I've had one of my best springs ever on big smallmouths, wallhangin' walleyes, and plenty of muskies to boot, while testing the Baby DepthRaider. Whenever I get onto a hot big crankbait pattern, I'll often follow up this same spot with the smaller version later on. This thorough check for bait size selectivity has paid back huge (big fish) dividends. Adopting a similar policy is sure to do the same for you.
SUMMARY – OCCASIONALLY MUSKIES ARE BIG BAIT SHY
Bait size selectivity is perhaps one of the most underrated of all factors in the musky fishing equation. Those who have done any amount of fishing for this sometimes persnickety predator have run into occasions where they (muskies) appear to be big bait shy. Even lakes with a major reputation for trophy fish such as southern Wisconsin's Pewaukee Lake have an equal reputation for big bait shy muskies. Stubborn anglers, who don't adjust their approach when such situations exist, are almost sure to go home empty handed.
Top-flight walleye anglers keep close tabs on the size of the minnows they use, the weight of their jigs, and even the size of their hooks. Today's walleye angler also might carry as many as four different lure sizes of the same productive crankbait. The best tournament bass pros are usually obsessed with the minute lure details such as plastic worm length, lure profile, blade size, and hook styles. Bassers are usually fanatical about color, as well. I guess my question is --- why should musky angling be any different?
Of course, muskies are a different species in many respects, yet they're still basically just a fish. All predatory fish react similarly to strike-triggering responses. Some, like the walleye, may be even more size selective, but muskies do have their fickle moments. That's why it's important to at least consider this aspect of bait size selectivity. The next time you're out on the water, and muskies seem to have "follow itus", or they're striking short, or they simply won't respond at all, you might want to give the smaller bait a try. I'm not suggesting that switching to a smaller bait will always make a difference, but there are definitely going to be a few times when it does. And that one time might win you a tournament, catch you your first musky, bag you your first trophy, or – at the very least-- save an otherwise fishless trip. Look at it this way --- once you've tried the traditional way, what have you got to loose by trying it?