As weather warms up, fish finally take the bait

Every once in a while, it's good to remember that not everything in fishing is about lures, lines and electronics.
Sometimes -- actually, more often than not -- it doesn't matter too much what you throw. You just won't get bit if the fish aren't in the mood.
I received a good lesson on this topic last weekend in a bass tournament at Mosquito Creek Reservoir. We started the day in high spirits with hopes of getting a quick limit in the chilly morning hours.
But the water was cold and the bass were -- for us, anyway -- utterly uncooperative. Hours dragged on and we had nothing to show for all the casts we'd hauled through Mosquito's water.
We persevered, nevertheless, grinding toward noon under the gray overcast. I have to admit we were ready to throw in the towel. It would have been easy to succumb to the temptation to finish the day by going through the motions rather than remain intent on capitalizing on the next set of potential opportunities.
Perseverance is a valuable trait for an angler. We make far more fruitless casts than productive ones. It makes sense, therefore, to figure out how to deal with the failed efforts, learn from them and be ready to strike when opportunity intersects with our presentations.
Luck wasn't with us
By 11 a.m. last Sunday at Mosquito, we had zero bass in the livewell. Our only catches were a couple of kamikaze crappies that attacked my partner's jerkbait. But around that time, the sun started burning off the cold haze.
As the air warmed, our optimism grew. Soon, we calculated, the water temperature would creep up a few critical degrees. The day had dawned with the water at 46 degrees, but as noon approached, the thermometer climbed past 50.
I pitched to a toppled oak tree's waterlogged limbs, felt a tug and jerked up an angry largemouth that pulled free before I could yank it from the branches. While we were disgusted about losing the fish, the obvious sign of life in the cover awakened our senses and added the perfect dose of inspiration.
Thirty minutes later, our first keeper was swimming in the livewell. The bass had been suspended in the tip-top branches of a fallen tree, where it no doubt was soaking in the solar energy that by then had pushed the water temp to nearly 52 degrees.
And then it was
In the next hour, we filled out our limit and culled up a decent weight of largemouths, enough to earn a check in the Boy Scouts Icebreaker tournament and experience the satisfaction that only a good day on the water can deliver.
Sunday's fishing trip was a classic example of the potential locked in the & quot;if at first you don't succeed, try again & quot; adage. We could have shrugged off the failure of our initial strategy as & quot;that's fishing, & quot; but we persevered.
Success was not the result of discovering a secret-weapon lure, downsizing our line or juicing our baits with fish attractant. It had nothing to do with GPS or sonar.
The trip underscored the value of stick-to-it dedication. & quot;It's all about timing, & quot; my partner said each time I pulled up the trolling motor to make a move to another spot. & quot;We've got to be in the right place at the right time when the sun brings the bass to the cover. & quot;
Our afternoon flurry proved he was correct.
jwwollitz@aol.com