Bundled up against winter’s cold, the author’s fishing party enjoys the season’s
peace while waiting for a bite on Arkansas’ Lake Greeson. (Photo: Keith Sutton)
Cold Days on Quiet Waters
by Keith Sutton
It’s cold today on 7,000-acre Lake Greeson west of Hot Springs, Arkansas. Think Antarctica. In winter. At night.
My fishing companions reflect the state of the winter chill. Fishing guide Jerry Blake has on a thick camo outfit that might be worn by someone hunting musk oxen on the Arctic tundra. My friends Alex Hinson and Lewis Peeler are garbed in enough insulation to warm a glacier. My son, Josh, is dressed like he’ll be running sled dogs at the Iditarod. It’s hard to see their eyes peering out through layers and layers of toboggans, neck warmers and hoods—and in the case of Mr. Peeler, a warm-as-toast (so he says) Elmer Fudd earflap hat.
If we hold our fishing poles still very long, ice forms in the line guides. Our minnow baits are trying to jump back in the boat to get warm. And we’re shivering on what has started out to be a gray, overcast day.
Funny thing is, no one seems to care much about the bitter temperature. Jerry has invited us over to experience the extraordinary winter crappie fishing on Lake Greeson, and true to form, he’s putting us on some crappie.
“Damn the cold.” I thought. “We’re catching fish!”
This wasn’t one of those fish-a-minute days we often have during the spawning season. It was simply too icy out to expect that. But as we move from brushpile to brushpile in the lake, we pick up a crappie here and a crappie there. And folks, let me tell you, these were no ordinary crappie. Here in Arkansas, we call crappie this size “barn doors.” And almost each and every fish we caught justified that description. These were huge panfish (an oxymoron, I know) that measured several inches across the back! You’ve never seen fillets so thick as the ones on these slabs.
The prospect of catching some nice fish certainly appeals to us, but there are other reasons for being outdoors when most folks are toasty warm at home. This is a time of year when you can truly find some peace and quiet on the water. No boats. No personal watercraft. No people. No sounds but the breeze in the trees and the occasional honks of Canada geese passing overhead. In my mind, there’s no better time of year to fish for crappie, here or anywhere, if you’re willing to bundle up in some warm clothes and brave the cold.
Spring, summer and fall open their arms to people. Winter is more standoffish. It has fewer friends, and so, in winter, the fisherman can savor longer periods of peacefulness without disturbances created by his fellow men.
We rarely see other anglers in winter, but we do see eagles, ducks, geese, wading birds, deer, foxes, raccoons and lots of other wildlife. That is one of the greatest rewards of cold-weather fishing – having a private audience with the many species of resident and migratory wildlife that are active this season despite the frigid temperatures.
We tend to dismiss winter as a time of lusterless grays and dull browns. But if you pay attention, you’ll notice that the colors are never richer than in this resting world where everything is more elemental and direct. The reds of a cardinal are twice as red against December’s stark backdrop. The evergreen trees are never greener. The turquoise of the sky and the violet shadows cast by trees are feasts for the eyes. And on those days when snow falls, the world is cleansed. Everything is white, white, white, as far as you can see. The landscape’s wounds and scars vanish. Nature looks new, unmarred by time or use.
This is a season when the outdoors unveils its more contemplative side. With fewer people out and about, the sense of solitude becomes a cherished companion. This seclusion fosters a deeper connection with the environment, allowing for a more profound appreciation of its nuances. The opportunity to become a silent observer in the midst of a winter wonderland is an experience that transcends the ordinary.
Don’t get me wrong. We’re not just here to immerse ourselves in nature. We come to catch crappie, too, and it’s a rare day when we go home empty handed. But the fish we take home to eat are just lagniappe—a little something extra. We’d go crappie fishing this time of year even if we didn’t expect to catch fish, because we find days spent on quiet waters in wintertime are unforgettable in so many special ways.
Granted, it’s not for everyone, this cold-weather fishing. We shake. We shiver. We grimace and groan. But despite chattering teeth and other signs of near-hypothermia, we find pleasure in our winter excursions on Lake Greeson and elsewhere. And every time a crappie grabs one of our jigs or minnows, it doesn’t seem cold outside at all.
I highly recommend that you gear up, bundle up and embrace the aesthetic allure of cold-weather fishing. The wonders of winter await.
Besides being the Editor of our sister publication, CatfishNOW, Keith Sutton has been an avid crappie angler for more than half a century, pursuing his favorite panfish on waters throughout the United States. His fishing stories have been read by millions in hundreds of books, magazines, newspapers and Internet publications. In 2021, he was inducted into the Legends of the Outdoors Hall of Fame.
