Few argue the bluegill would make a worthier state fish than the muskellunge, Wisconsin’s longtime holder of that title.
Bluegills, after all, aren’t particular about where they live or the room capacity. In ancient times, their likely range extended from the eastern half of the United States to southeastern Canada and northeastern Mexico. Their home expanded in recent centuries through intentional and unintentional transplant operations, spreading the species throughout the United States and northern Mexico.
They’re also not as big or elusive as muskies. Wisconsin’s state-record bluegill measured 12 inches, weighed 2 pounds and 9.8 ounces, and was caught in August 1995 in Green Bay. The state-record muskie is listed at 69 pounds and 11 ounces, and was caught in 1949 in the Chippewa Flowage. Although that weight was likely fraudulent, no one can dispute it was far larger than the certified-record bluegill.
Likewise, while muskies are called the fish of 10,000 casts, bluegills can be the fish of every other cast.
Still, anyone fighting a 10-inch bluegill on light-action spinning rods wonders what a 10- or 20-pound bluegill would require in rod, reel and line strength. Because pie-plate bluegills plane sideways like Dipsy Divers when hooked, it’s easy to think you’ve hooked a bass until feeling their trademark whirling.
At that point, with their identity revealed, bluegill fans rejoice, knowing they’re fighting one of the best-eating fish to swim Wisconsin’s waters. As table fare, bluegills tie yellow perch in flavor and texture, though some wrongly insist crappies deserve similar status.
As if that’s not enough acclaim, some folks try to make bluegills sound fearsome. If you compare its looks to piranha—the toothy, man-eating little predator from South America—few would dispute the vague similarity. From there, some folks take things even further. Consider this 1987 hoax, which Google links to an Ohio newspaper:
“The bluegill is one of the most dangerous fish in North America. The bluegill is related to the deadly piranha, which is responsible for 20,000 deaths per year. When bluegills feed in a school, they can completely dismantle a human body in less than 15 minutes. Bluegills are responsible for over 500 deaths in the United States every summer.”
Forehead slap.
No doubt those 500 deaths could be verified through hospital records.
Sigh.
Other than the bluegill’s six to 13 spines on its dorsal fin, the species isn’t built for maiming or scarring, let alone man-eating. Most kids quickly learn to grip bluegills by sliding one hand backward from the head to press the dorsal fin safely into the back.
The bluegill’s charms, meanwhile, are self-evident. For one, they’re easy on the eyes. During their breeding season, the male’s belly scales turn bright copper, a color similar to a robin’s breast. They can also swim backward, using special muscles in their anal, dorsal and pectoral fins for propulsion.
They also have a fitting taxonomic, i.e., scientific, name: Lepomis macrochirus, but only if you know the language. If you type that name into a Latin translator, it means “macro hairy ears.” While it’s true that bluegills have a large “ear” atop their gill plate, it’s better described as purple-blue, not hairy.
But if you type its scientific name into a Greek translator, you find its actual meaning: “scaled gill cover” and “large hand,” an obvious reference to its body shape. In fact, a man’s hand helps provide scale in photos if you lack a ruler to show a bluegill’s size. If the fish stretches nose-to-tail from your wrist to fingertips, you’ve got a keeper.
And yes, size matters when it comes to keeping bluegills. To pile up 1 pound of bluegill fillets, you’ll need four 9-inch fish, 16 7-inchers, or 50 5-inchers. Good anglers aren’t easily bored, but most of us would rather clean four 9-inch bluegills than 50 bluegills the length of our middle finger.
Besides, there’s just something exciting and impressive about bluegills 9 inches and larger. That’s why Milo Miller took me and my grandson, Connor Switzer, age 6, to some of his favorite bluegill holes on Madison’s Lake Mendota last week. Miller has chased bluegills, perch, crappies and smallmouths on Mendota for years, even though the lake requires an hour-long drive from his home just south of Beloit.
After dropping his boat’s electric trolling motor into the water, Miller handed Connor a spinning rig with a weighted jig at the bottom and a second hook about 2 feet up the line. He tipped both hooks with a waxworm and Gulp spike, dropped them 13 to 15 feet to the bottom, reeled up a spin or two, and held steady with an occasional flick.
The action was neither fast nor steady that morning, but by trying three or four spots on Mendota’s eastern side we caught six magnum bluegills before quitting at 11 a.m. For further entertainment, Connor and Miller fought, caught and released a 26-inch northern pike, two sheepshead, 17- and 19-inch smallmouth bass, and several undersize bluegills and smallies.
Connor and I had similar results the next morning while fishing from his parents’ boat. We brought home three big bluegills and released several smaller ’gills, while Connor caught and released two smallmouths, and his father, James, caught and released a 26-inch pike.
Our combined numbers tracked closely with Department of Natural Resources data that show Wisconsin anglers catch nearly 70 million fish annually, and take home about 20 million, or 29% of their catch.
It’s fair to note that bluegills make up a far larger portion of Wisconsin’s take-home fish meals than do muskies, largemouths and smallmouths, but let’s not waste breath arguing if that implies unique status.
It simply shows Wisconsin offers some of the best fishing our nation offers.
Connor Switzer, age 6, proudly shows off his catch of big bluegills with Milo Miller, left, and his grandfather, Patrick Durkin, after a recent morning on Madison’s Lake Mendota. — Patrick Durkin photo
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