It's said that bluegills start bedding near Mothers Day. If so, they should be moving on and off those areas where spawning takes place. With that in mind, I harken back to a May day several years ago when me and a buddy were doing just that.
Paddling around in a canoe on a lake is fun if three things happen. One is if there is some weight in the bow, such as another person, or you are comfortable kneeling or sitting in the middle to balance the weight to keep the bow from swinging around in any breeze.
The second thing is we always hope the wind isn't blowing from the take-out point. Otherwise, we may fight the wind clear across the lake, and that is not fun if the breeze is gusty and strong.
The obvious third thing is for the bluegill spawn to be on, and the fish biting. I've never seen a time when bedding 'gills aren't biting, especially those pugnacious pug-nosed males that are trying to protect their spawning bed.
Rubber spiders work for bedding bluegills.
There's a small lake I know within 25 miles of Traverse City, and about the time the lilacs bloom, the bluegills hit the shallows and fan a saucer-shaped spawning bed. Hit the jackpot, and the bottom will look honeycombed with these hard-bottomed beds.
My rod of choice is a fly rod with a fly line matched to the weight of the rod, a leader of six to eight feet tapered down to a two-pound tippet. A 4- or 5-weight rod, reel and fly line is just right. To this I tie a black, green or yellow sponge rubber spider with four or six tiny legs made of rubber bands. It's a rather an ugly little piece of work, but the bluegills could care less. It looks intrusive, and the males smack it to drive the thing away from their spawning redd. Some fly line was shook out through the guides as the spider trolled behind the canoe as I sculled within easy casting distance of two or three spawning beds. I quietly laid the paddle on two life cushions, made one false cast and shot the spider to the closest bed. The male must have seen it coming because one arrowed up off bottom, sucked in the spider, and I again thrilled to that sideways pull on the line. Bluegills, if they grew to the size of chinook salmon, would be impossible to land. This little squirt, all five inches of him, was quickly released. Another cast to another nearby redd, and the same thing happened again. A male sunfish rose and sipped the spider off the surface like a 10-inch stream trout taking a Hendrickson during a hatch. He fought his little heart out but soon rod pressure wore him down and he too was released.Remembering brother George as I cast to his favorite spot.
I sculled the canoe to a place where my twin brother George and I always fished before his untimely death. It always seemed to have at least one 10- to 11-inch bluegill in the area. There were few beds, and few fish, but one bed held a likely looking fish.
Canoes work fine for this in-close business, and I was quietly lifting the paddle from the water and laying it on the cushion. I bent low to avoid an upright silhouette, and pitched the spider on top of the big fish. It sat idle, and the bluegill didn't move but I knew he knew it was there. Twenty seconds passed, and the fly line was twitched with a one-inch pull, and the spider moved just enough to cause the wiggly legs to ripple the water. Its little rubber band legs quivered like something alive even as the spider lay motionless. My fancy new polarized sunglasses spotted the fish moving toward the surface, cautious and in need of more convincing. A quiver of the rod tip caused the spider to move again, and this pug-nosed bull bluegill inched closer. The spider lay dead in the water, and a bit more realism was needed so I twitched the line again.The big 'gill took the spider and put up a great fight.
That's all it took. The big fish nosed up, opened his mouth, flared his gills and the spider disappeared. The rod tip came up softly to salute the fish, and the battle was joined.
Big bluegills fight like all bluegills do but this one simply fought harder than most, and even with two-pound tippet, a 'gill that turns broadside to the pull of the line will make the canoe move toward him. He moved away, and we were connected with an umbilical cord testing two pounds. The fish finally tired, lay on his side, and he was eased across the surface. Just as I reached out to lift him from the water, the spider fell free. He lay motionless, unsure whether he was free or not, righted himself and swam off. It was the best fishing trip I'd had in a month, and I may return for another try. Chances are good he will have spawned, but there's always the chance that another fish will be willing to come out to play with me.
I have no clue about bluegill hotspots near Charleston, IL. I live in northern Michigan. Go fishing often, and try new locations each time. Sooner or later you’ll learn which hold good bluegills. It’s the way all of us learn. If I knew of any spots in your local area, I’d pass them along, but sadly I don’t.
Thanks for writing. Don’t know if you look for fishing books, but if so, go to my Home Page, scroll down to Scoop’s books and click on it. I write daily blogs, and buy and sell fishing and hunting books. Good luck. — Dave Richey