ARKANSAS — It’s that time of year again. The dogwoods are blooming, and crappie are biting in the shoreline shallows of many Arkansas lakes. It’s a season many Natural State anglers look forward to with fantastic glee — me included. So, recently, I headed out to one of my favorite crappie lakes to see if I could get a bite.
It seems I never get to go crappie fishing as often as I would like. And when I do have the opportunity to go, I often learn the fish were biting marvelously the day before yesterday and the week before last, but for some strange reason, the bite at the time of my visit is sadly off.
“They got a bad case of lockjaw about the time you pulled out of your driveway this morning,” I often hear.
Not so this time. The crappie were on their nests in shallow water, and every time I hooked a minnow on my bobber rig and threw it their way, I caught one. Considering my usual luck, I was happily surprised.
I was fishing with my son Josh, who lives in Wynne, and our friend Todd Huckabee from Crowder, Okla. We had been fishing just minutes when Josh, working a jig beside the bank under a blooming dogwood, hoisted a huge crappie into the boat — a fish that weighed more than 2 pounds. Todd quickly followed with another dandy slab. I got snagged in a brush pile right off the bat, but soon landed a crappie, too — a 1-pound-plus black crappie full of fight.
Crappie are prolific and grow quickly in Arkansas’ mild climate and long growing season. In many of our best lakes, the average crappie measures about 12 inches long and weighs close to 1 pound, but anglers also catch quite a few from 14 to 16 inches that weigh from 1-1/2 to 2 pounds. Sometimes a skilled or lucky fisherman will catch a crappie that tips the scales at 2-1/2 to 3 pounds or more. Fishermen call those “barn doors,” and they are caught only rarely, even in our best waters. When crappie are found and a fishing pattern develops, however, it doesn’t take long to catch enough 1- to 2-pounders for supper and usually enough to share with friends and neighbors, too.
When my fun day of fishing with Josh and Todd was over, I took home 40 fillets from 20 fat crappie that filled three quart freezer bags to the brim. I was more pleased than a dog with two tails.
When I told a catfishing buddy about my trip, he said, “I don’t know why you enjoy crappie fishing so much. Crappie don’t hit very hard, they don’t put up much of a fight, and they don’t get very big. They’re hard as the dickens to figure out sometimes — hot one day and cold the next. I’d trade a hundred of ’em for one excellent-sized channel cat.”
Many anglers like my narrow-minded friend don’t give a tinker’s hoot about crappie fishing. Many others, however, love crappie fishing, and for excellent reasons.
Consider, for example, that crappie are found in nearly every lake in Arkansas, and many streams and ponds, too. In-the-know anglers haul crappie in spring, summer, autumn and winter. Anything these sunfish lack in size, they compensate for with sheer numbers and the ease with which they are caught.
Sure, trout are bedazzling jumpers. Catfish reach huge sizes. Bass are brutal battlers. for many anglers, however, crappie are the favorites because the certainty of some kind of fishing action is far better than promised battles that never come.
Fancy equipment? no need. It doesn’t matter if you use an old cane pole or a $200 ultralight rig. Both catch crappie.
The crappie is also one of the most gorgeous of fishes. its scales are flakes of polished silver assembled like a delicate mosaic that sparkles jewel-like in the water. The eyes are golden inlays. Showy, oversize fins impart subtle grace.
All these characteristics blend to make the crappie an extremely beloved character. At least 6.7 million U.S. anglers 16 years old and older fish for crappie, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Only black bass, trout and catfish are more popular.
While the two species of crappie — black crappie and white crappie — have always been found in waters throughout Arkansas, the growth of the crappies’ range in other parts of the country during the past century shows how very popular they are.
Black crappie originally were found only in the eastern half of the United States, except for the northeastern seaboard. The range of this popular panfish was greatly expanded, however, by introductions into eastern sections of the country where it wasn’t found originally, and throughout much of the West and Midwest. Washington received its first stockings in 1890, California in 1891, Idaho in 1892 and Oregon in 1893.
The original range of the white crappie extended from eastern South Dakota to New York, then south to Alabama and Texas. this species also has been widely introduced into new waters as well, and like the black crappie, the white crappie is now found in all lower 48 states. It tends to be more at home in the oxbows, large lakes and sluggish rivers of the South, while the black crappie, which thrives best in colder, clearer water, can be found as far north as southern Canada.
Crappie also have been stocked in Mexico and Panama, with populations thriving in both countries.
Another indication that people like crappie is the fact that several places lay claim to the title “Crappie Capital of the World.” among these are Weiss Lake, Ala.; Kentucky Lake in Kentucky and Tennessee; Grand Lake, Okla.; and Lake Okeechobee, Fla. Folks in Louisiana have gone a step further and designated the white crappie as their official state fish.
Crappie have, indeed, won the hearts of millions, including thousands of Arkansans. but some, like my catfishing buddy, will never be swayed. to them, crappie always will be “kids’ fish” — too small, too simple and too wimpy to be worthy of attention. for the rest of us, however, crappie will always be special.
Now I find myself about to savor the best part of the crappie-fishing experience — the eating. The sweet aroma of hot peanut oil fills my kitchen as I dredge the fillets from some jumbo crappie in seasoned yellow cornmeal. When each piece is ready, I drop it into the skillet. The fillets sizzle as they cook.
“He has a lot to recommend him,” Havilah Babcock once wrote of this extraordinary panfish. “When a sizable crappie is cleaned immediately and dropped for a few scant minutes into a pan of sizzling fat, he is a fillip for the most jaded appetite.”
I’m not sure what a fillip is, but as I watch the crappie fillets sizzling in the skillet, I feel like a hungry cat watching a crippled bird. My gastric juices churn. I salivate like a wolf smelling blood.
I bite into one of the hot, golden fillets, and in a sudden moment of clarity, I realize: this is why I love crappie fishing.
this article was published April 24, 2011 at 6:00 a.m.
