Fishing Bait Guide

Photo provided by My Hunting & Fishing

by Steve Jacobs

Fishing can be relaxing and exciting all at the same time. But you’re not going to catch any fish if you don’t have the right fishing gear, bait, and don’t know how to use it.

You can choose between artificial bait (lures, flies, etc.) and natural bait (minnows, worms, jigs, etc.). The bait you use is largely going to depend on the type of fish that you are going after.

Lures and flies are appealing because you can use them over and over and don’t need to store them in a specific area. Natural bait can be hard to keep fresh and more expensive but fish can be easier to catch with natural bait.

With all bait you need to take size into consideration. You’re not going to use 5lb bait to catch a 10lb fish, it won’t work. The lure and bait should look as close to real prey as possible.

Since there are so many different types of fish, let’s focus on some of the most popular fish and the best bait to use for each species:

Bass- The best bait to use for bass are artificial lures and live bait. Aglia streamers are a good lure to use because they create the lifelike swimming action and vibration of live prey. Frogs, crayfish, minnows, and leeches are good bait to use after a cold front. In very clear water, bass are more apt to bite at live bait.

Trout- Live minnows are a good live bait to use to catch trout. Spinners are popular to use because they look like chub. Spoons are fun to use for beginners and jigs are for the more experienced fisherman. For specific kinds of trout the bait varies. Rainbow trout, for example, is caught with all kinds of flies, spoons, minnows, and insects.

Pike- Pike tend to go after live minnows, flashy spinners, spoons, and plugs. Small to medium sized pike go after bugs, frogs, and each other. Big pike tend to like Walleyes, small hammer- handles, suckers, chub, and whitefish.

Panfish- Grubs and mealworms are an idea for panfish and sunfish. These fish can be fun for kids to fish because they bite often and don’t require a lot of skill to reel in.

Saltwater Fish- Squid is good live bait for amberjack, bluefish, and other types of saltwater fish.

You can always use live bait with a lure so the smell of the bait will be more appealing to the fish. If legal in your state, another good technique to use is chumming, when you throw additional bait into the water that’s unattached to the bait.

Local outdoors shops can be a great resource to find out more about fishing bait, lures and hunting clothing, and outdoors books.

When I Started Hunting

by Brigham Brewer

I got out of the family minivan, my heavy World War II rifle in hand as I walked over to the edge of a steep dropoff on the other side of the rocky road.

The brisk wind chilled me as it penetrated my jacket and thick layers of clothing that had already been dampened by the rain of the hunt.

It was doe season, so any deer was fair game for this 12 year old hunter.

The season had been long and enjoyable and was coming to a close. I had hunted several days, toting my heavy weapon, without getting a chance to kill my first deer.

I was skipping school that day to hopefully get a chance at putting meat in the freezer for our large family.

My absence was authorized by my father, who had picked me up from school earlier that day to drive me up into the hills. He was by my side now. It is always such a comfort to have him by my side as my guide on any hunt.

Nearly the instant we reached the edge of the road to look off into the clear-cut below, dad said, "There they go, Brigham!"

I immediately saw the three deer, which were running quickly up the side of the hill below at a distance of about 75 yards.

I didn't hesitate for a moment. I quickly shouldered my rifle and lined up the peep sight of the Lee Enfield No. 4 Mk 1, putting the tip of the front sight on one of the running deer. In the process I flipped the large safety lever to the "fire" position with my right thumb.

As soon as my sights were lined up with one of the deer, I pulled the trigger. A loud boom sent the 180 grain soft-nosed Nosler Partion towards my quarry.

The result was nothing. Nothing but more fear, and excitement, and urgency.

I quickly worked the rifle's bolt action, putting another cartridge in the chamber, lined up the sights again, and fired on the first deer I could.

This time I made a clear hit. The deer was down, but not out. I was excited though, because I knew I was going to seal the deal.

A hike down the steep bank with my father meant making my way through thistles, blackberry vines, and other gnarly ground cover, twisting my ankles over fallen trees and in unseen holes, and sliding down in the soft dirt and mud on my rump. But I was oblivious to any of this discomfort as I focused my attention on getting down to my prize.

We got down to where the young buck lay and saw that I would need to finish the job. I was saddened by the suffering. I was scared by the wounded animal, not wanting to get close enough for it to attack me.

I knew what had to be done, and it was not pleasant, but this process had to be learned. The beauty of the animal, in this case, a young black-tailed buck to be transformed into nutritious food for many family meals. An understanding between myself, the animal, and God, that this was the purpose of its creation.

God had blessed us with a successful hunt. Sure, we could have gone to the grocery store and purchased meat, but there is a deeper appreciation for life and death and the gift of sustenance that comes with hunting and killing your own meat.

People that have never hunted and even abhor the idea, while they themselves will only go to the market and purchase the flesh of domesticated animals without the understanding or appreciation of how it was provided, will never understand the connection between the hunter and the hunted.

This was how our forefathers survived. The men and women that settled the wilderness of the promised land; the land that makes up this great nation where we live freely today, partly as a result of their many hardships and sacrifices. The tradition of hunting that we keep alive helps us appreciate what they went through on a deeper level.

They didn't have an option. There were no Safeway's, no WalMarts. God blessed them with what they needed as they forged a new life and a new opportunity in a free land.

Finally, the lethal blow was delivered and the animal's spirit was released from it's mortal tabernacle and the suffering ended. I had provided venison for my family for the first time in my life.

Predator Versus Predator

by Darren Johnson

What was that? I thought to myself. Did I really see a flash of gray moving toward the open field? I strained to see some kind of movement through the thick brush, but try as I might, it eluded me. I was certain that a coyote was lurking in there somewhere but I just couldn’t pick it out in the jungle of vegetation.

My set-up was almost perfect as I was tucked into a pocket of brush virtually camouflaged from sight. The wind was a mild cross-breeze that was pushing my scent away from the field and the hay was freshly cut. The crows were already searching the mowed field for food. I was very confident that it was just a matter of time before the coyotes showed up for an easy meal. With an hour and a half until dusk, I just needed to be patient.

I had waited to hunt this field for almost a year. While I had seen coyotes in this field many times on my drive to and from work, my plan was to wait until the day the field was mowed as it seems to bring out the coyotes in packs. They can’t resist a quick look through the mowed hay in hopes of finding a mouse or rabbit carcass. When the phone call from the farmer came around noon, I rearranged my schedule to be in the field later in the day. I shot the rifle to make sure it was zeroed in, threw on my gear and headed out.

Based upon the wind direction and the geography, I felt certain that the coyote would enter the field from my right and should cross in front of me as they searched for food. With the cover breaking up my silhouette and the favorable breeze, I felt certain I could get a high percentage shot off. At a range of about fifty yards, and them preoccupied on finding a meal, I was confident that this would be a hunt I would remember for a long time.

I scanned the field once again and as my gaze shifted to the right edge of the field, I saw it. A large coyote stood at the field edge, scanning for danger before stepping into the open. As slowly as I could, I shifted in my seat and raised my rifle. So far so good, I thought. The coyote lowered its nose to the ground and stepped into the field. Like a beagle searching for scent, it started moving across the field in a zigzag pattern. It was now in the open and I just needed it to stop for a second.

I had the rifle shouldered and was focused on the coyote through my scope. I moved the safety off and settled my finger on the trigger. As much as I tried to stay calm, the adrenaline was flowing and my heart was pounding. I tried to slow my breathing while centering the crosshairs on the broadside coyote’s chest. In spite of my lack of composure, this was shaping up to be an easy hunt.

Seemingly, out of nowhere, I heard a sharp “yap” off to my left and lifted my head to take a look. A second coyote was in the field and had busted me. Knowing this wasn’t good, I tried to find the original dog in the scope but couldn’t see it. Looking up again, I realized that my window of opportunity had slammed shut and the coyote was gone. My only choice was to take a shot at the second coyote but as I swung the rifle around I saw it running full speed away from me.

In spite of my near perfect set-up, a great wind and the freshly cut field, I was going home empty handed, busted by a coyote that I didn’t even know was there. As I walked back to the truck disgusted with myself, I knew I had accomplished one thing. I did have a hunt that I would remember for a long time. A really long time…


For more excellent writing and photography by Darren Johnson, please visit his website: Taking a Walk on the Wild Side

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To get the new year started off right, here's a little nimrod243 humor for you. Enjoy!

The Perfect Hunt

by Jarrod Smith

It’s April 9, 2011. We wake around 4:30 in the morning at Pat’s house, filled with the anticipation of getting our first turkeys.

We drive to some backwoods property in Loudon County, Virginia. Along the drive I’m thinking, “Okay, I’ve got everything: gun, shotgun shells” and so on. We park, grab all our gear and head into the woods.

Hoot owls start calling as we set up the blind and settle into our chairs. Corbin asks me with a little fright in his voice “what’s that, Dad”? Then I tell him, “monsters,” but he knows I’m joking.

We get out the coffee and Pat’s famous hot chocolate (the best I’ve ever had. I’ve got the recipe too).

Just at daybreak, Pat asks, “Are you ready?” Corbin nods with contained excitement and I’m thinking “sure, like the turkey's gonna come just because we are ready.”

He hits the slate call and throughout the woods a loud “gobble, gobble, gobble” answers him. I slowly turn my head to Corbin and whisper “this is it, today’s gonna be a good day.” Then slowly turning to look at Pat with a grin I say, “I can’t believe it—they gobbled on the first call.” I think to myself, “Man Pat really knows how to call.”

For the next half hour that gobbler gobbles at everything from the geese, ducks and crane flying over. Then he comes off the roost and just shuts up.

We sit there for the next couple of hours with Pat hitting the slate call then the box call. Nothing. Not a sound. Starting to get discouraged, we all get out of the blind and relieve ourselves, stretch our legs and settle back down with another cup of Pat’s hot chocolate. Pat has another cup of coffee and we all eat some Kit Kats and Snickers bars.

Ready for round two. The day passes by in silence, we watch a few squirrels scurry around, and ducks and geese fly by, but still no turkey.

Pat makes a few more calls. Still, nothing. I keep telling myself, “well maybe it’s not gonna happen…that’s ok…we got to hear one gobble this morning and that was exciting.” That’s why they call this hunting.

Time passes and then all of a sudden, Corbin starts snickering. I give him the mean look and whisper, “stop! Pat’s not gonna want you to come next time.” He points at Pat with more snickering, holding back a laugh, tears in his eyes.

I glance over my shoulder at Pat and I can’t believe it. He’s asleep. His head all laid back and, I mean, he’s out! Then he starts snoring. I start snickering too, trying my hardest to hold back. I then nudge Pat’s leg. His eyes open and while slowly raising his head says, “what, what are you doing?” I tell him, “You were sleeping and snoring.” He says “I know. That’s my secret weapon.” We all laughed.

A little more time goes on and about 11:30 Pat asks, “Are you about ready to go”? I shrugged and got up, but Corbin is disappointed. “I want to get a turkey,” he says, but I assure him we’d go again. We wait a few more minutes, get out of the blind, and start packing up. We unload our guns, and pack the blind away.

I look up and Pat is putting his chair back in his bag when Corbin, about 30 yards away, looks at us and says with a loud whisper “I heard one!” Pat and I just look at each other, and then I hear it too.

“Did you hear that?” But no, he didn’t. Pat finishes putting his chair in the bag then gets his slate call out. He hits it one time and all we hear is “gobble, gobble, gobble.”

There’s more than one. Pat drops his chair and while grabbing his jacket says, “we’ve got about six minutes to get ready.”

I drop what I’m doing and Pat whispers to Corbin, “Come here.” Pat tells Corbin to jump in this makeshift blind that he made a few years back by a big oak tree.

Corbin grabs his gun as I help him put two shells in it, and he jumps over into the blind and hunkers down. I grab my gun, put two shells in also, and hunker down right behind Corbin. Pat throws Corbin a face net. I can’t remember where I put mine.

Pat runs to a tree behind us and sits on the ground and leans up next to another oak. Then he whispers, “I wonder if I should try and put out a decoy” and I whispered back, “ya.”

Pat jumps up grabs a decoy from his vest, shoves it in the ground about 20 yards in front of us, and runs back to his spot. I look back and Pat has covered himself with his jacket. He hits the slate call. “Gobble, gobble, gobble” is all we hear.

Probably 10 or 12 minutes go by as we scan the woods searching. Then all of a sudden Corbin whispers, "There they are!” There were three of them jokers, just a struttin’. You should have seen the look on Corbin's face as he's hunched down behind Pat’s makeshift blind hoping not to get spotted. He puts the bead down towards them Jakes.

They stop and look and I thought, Dag gone it! They’ve busted me because I don’t have my mask on. So I slowly hunker down lower behind Corbin’s head hoping not to get caught. I tell him to take the safety off and wait till they pass that oak tree.

With all the excitement going, I also forgot to get my gun ready and now I'm worried I might get busted a second time. I said to myself "maybe I can ease it up slowly right before Corbin shoots."

Corbin keeps hitting this small cedar branch with the barrel of his gun so I had to whisper to tell him “Stop moving”.

He steadies his gun just about the time I ease mine up. I then whisper "shoot!" And Corbin says, "Which one?" I said “pick one!”

By the time I ease my gun back up, POW! Corbin shoots. Then I shoot too, and the birds are down.

Corbin jumps up and yells "I got ‘em, I got ‘em!" I jump up and say “I know, we did.” Grinning from ear to ear, we see Pat run past us to make sure the birds didn’t run off.

We go check out our prizes.

I looked at Pat with a tear in my eye, shake his hand, give him a manly hug, and say, “Pat, thanks, you just don’t know, WOW, Oh my God what a day, I can’t believe it!”

I‘m thinking, "man, how awesome is it that Corbin and I got our first turkeys on the same day?" Pat says, “Well, I called three in just in case you missed one.” We all laugh.

Corbin also manages to find a stinkin’ 6-point deer skull. Thank goodness for trash bags because we had to bring that home, too. We pick up all the gear and birds and stinkin’ deer skull and head for the truck.

I can still picture how proud Corbin was carrying that big old bird over his shoulder. Thank goodness for Pat again—he remembered a camera.

We took pictures of us posing with our trophy birds and that’s how our perfect hunt went.

There are not too many days that are that perfect in life and not too many hunters who can say they got their first turkey the same day as their son.

That’s a perfect hunt!