The author's standard set-up includes a pair of jig rods in close proximity. (Photo courtesy of Bob Humphrey)
February 02, 2026
By Bob Humphrey
The dawn’s early light cast an eerie, blueish glow on the snow-covered lake as we pulled sleds laden with ice-fishing tackle out onto the frozen water. The steady pace of crunching boots slowed as we neared our destination.
“This look about right?” I queried one of my companions.
He scanned the far shore for landmarks, picking out the big red barn, the cove, and a spit of land jutting into the lake.
“A little farther,” he responded.
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Our first trip to the lake had been largely experimental, but after several seasons we knew where we wanted to be and how we would fish once we got there.
Once the ice sets up each winter, eager anglers hit the hard water with hopes of harvesting a whole lot of fish. Panfish like perch, bluegills, and crappies tend to be more forgiving to the average ice angler than more finicky species like trout and salmon. Still, the more you know about tackle and tactics, the more successful you’ll be. It took our group some trial and error but we eventually dialed in an effective method for consistently catching crappie, and a range of other panfish.
ESTABLISHING THE PATTERN It all started in rather typical fashion. We hit the ice with a general objective of warm-water species, from bass and bluegills to perch and pike. Still, we were primarily after crappies, which are an invasive species in our area with no bag limit, and are rather tasty. I deployed my standard string of three tip-ups baited with shiners, then drilled 2 more holes, roughly a foot apart, and settled in with jig sticks. The others in our party did the same. The action was slow at first but by morning’s end we’d all caught enough for a hearty meal and motivation to do it again, soon. We also vowed to refine our methods based on what we’d learned, a pattern that would be repeated and improved upon with every outing.
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Jig traps allowed us fish more of the more effective jig rods. (Photo courtesy of Bob Humphrey) One of our first and more obvious observations was that jigging out-fished baited traps by a wide margin. Even when the occasional flag went up, it was often a miss or a stolen bait. Successful hooksets most often turned out to be small yellow perch rather than the preferred crappies. Changing minnow size and switching to worms proved no more effective, but we continued setting them, as we’re allowed five lines, and you just never know.
Next came determining what terminal tackle was most effective. We tried round lead-head jigs with rubber minnows or grubs, willow-leaf jigs, moon jigs, tiny Kastmasters, and Swedish Pimples. We experimented with size and color. The fish sometimes showed a preference for one over the other, but that might change from day to day and sometimes hour to hour. The differences were subtle and somewhat inconsistent, though smaller jigs and treble hooks increased hooksets. Clearly there was more to learn, but one lesson was to not be married to a specific bait if it’s not getting bit consistently.
THE JIG IS UP Our jigging technique was also experimental at first. We tried fast and slow, long and short. The difference in bite rate was subtle enough that it was difficult to judge until we added the first real game changer—a sounder. Initially, we just used it for test holes in our attempt to find the fish. But by the time we drilled holes and deployed lines, the fish would often be gone. Patience proved a more practical ploy, and we ultimately realized a better tactic was to simply pick a spot and wait for them to come to us.
Picking the right spot also took some testing. Should we fish deep or shallow? Flat bottom or structure? The sounder and a depth map helped us home in on the best spots. Every waterbody is different, but where we fished it seemed that 20 to 30 feet of water was the sweet spot. It’s possible we could have found more productive places, but you don’t leave fish to find fish, and we had found them. Or, rather, they found us.
With a sounder, we could tell when the fish were present and at what depth to jig. (Photo courtesy of Bob Humphrey) Without the sounder we were fishing blind. With it, we could tell if and when the fish were there, and at what depth. That allowed us to adjust lure depth accordingly. It was more productive and a lot more entertaining being able to watch the fish follow our jigs up and down. Still, the bites were seldom automatic. Long, upward pulls often got followed but rarely bit. Fast, frenetic jigging seemed to scare more fish than it attracted. Somewhere in between seemed a better approach. Clearly, we had more to learn, but we were beginning to dial it in.
With the addition of spring bobbers to our rod tips came the realization that the best technique was less movement and more observation. Just as we waited for them to find us, we learned to wait for them to bite. Rather than trying to entice them with aggressive jigging, we stared at the spring bobbers, watching for the subtlest sign of interest. When the spring bobber moved, so did we, but as we learned, not too quickly or aggressively. Fighting the natural urge to set the hook took practice. Slowly raising the rod rather than a quickly jerking it produced more hooksets, and ultimately more fish.
Despite our refinements, we still had slow periods. “That’s fishing,” we rationalized, until the day we noticed a neighboring party consistently catching fish when we weren’t. Fortunately, they were more than willing to share their secret: mealworms. To say that was a game-changer would be an understatement. Mealworms are crappie kryptonite, and our success rate soon soared.
Adding spring bobbers to our rod tips increase our catch rates immensely. (Photo courtesy of Bob Humphrey) Our initial expeditions were mostly mid- to late season, when many fish have entered their winter torpor and bite reluctantly. This year we made it out early and found fish a lot more eager to bite baits. The traps kept pace with jigging and increased the variety of our catch. We caught bass, pickerel, and even broke off a couple big pike. We’ll be even more prepared next time.
IN CONCLUSION The lessons will keep coming, but we’ve learned a few things so far. Location seems less important than patience and careful observation. When the fish appear, it’s time to take action … but not too much. Size and color of lures matter, but not as much as what’s attached to the hook. Targeting specific species takes technique, but mixing things up also produces more variety in catch.
