Ryan Brod

It was early March when pike patrol the shallows in pre-spawn mode. I was guiding seven anglers, several of whom had never fished before. I chose a shallow, weedy bay and spread my tip-ups to cover prime territory. I tipped my 3/0 red octopus-style hooks with lively golden shiners, 4 to 6 inches...

From the poling platform I spotted the dark shapes—five or six of them—milling over light-colored bottom. “OK Dad,” I said, “I’ve got a group straight ahead, 90 feet.” I poled the skiff quietly, keeping my eyes on the black backs of the tarpon. They resembled suspended logs, except that every once...

The big muskie ate my fly a foot from the rod tip. But the fight didn’t last long. I set the hook, the muskie shook its enormous head, the hook flew out, and I cursed so loud my ears rang. I inspected my fly: 10 inches of black schlappen and gold flash. I knew that hard-mouthed species like muskie...

The ice is out and I’m itching to get on smallmouths. The fact that I’ve been quarantining in my apartment with two roommates who can’t even talk fishing with me isn’t helping. Problem is, water temperatures are barely nudging 40 degrees. This means that although I’ve been daydreaming about big...