Catching pumpkinseed sunfish filled my plate and made me feel like a kid again

The little electric trolling motor was struggling as we neared the end of our late spring, early morning outing on a small local pond. Tired from an hour or so of pushing a canoe loaded down with gear, one soul and two Rapala smelts in tow, the last few slow turns of the prop told me we were done for the day.

I had hoped to be leaving with at least one of a few finicky brown trout who call the pond home but I was fish-less and a bit disappointed I hadn't caught dinner.

As I paddled the last few yards toward the shore and coasted in, a handful of pumpkinseed sunfish caught my eye just a few feet away. Silhouetted against the brightly colored gravel bottom, they glowed in the sunlight, suspended and nearly motionless. As if guardians of the shallows, their posture and intimidating stares made them appear almost sentry-like, causing me to pause for a quick double-take.

They were giants — easily the largest I’d ever seen. Maybe I still had a shot at bringing home dinner after all.

It had been a long time since my heart skipped a beat at the thought of catching a sunfish. Like most anglers, I’d caught hundreds of them as a youngster but my fascination and fixation with the little fish had waned decades ago.

However, these weren't your average, run-of-the-mill silver dollar dock dwellers. Members of the aptly named "panfish" family, pumpkinseed sunfish are regarded by many as fine table fare. I’d always wondered how they might taste but had never caught or seen one I felt was large enough to bother with.

Given their size though, I figured four or five of these beauties would be more than enough for me to make my own assessment. The problem was, I was severely over-tackled and needed to come up with an alternate plan.

This mission called for some highly technical and specialized gear: a No. 6 baitholder hook and some night crawlers. I had the hooks but no crawlers. Frustrated and anxious, I remembered the little store a few miles away and with that, I hastily pulled the canoe ashore, ran to the truck and hopped in.

Fueled by a sense of urgency to get back and put my plan in motion, I cursed the speed limit signs and a slowpoke that stood between me and a sunfish fry. Crawlers in hand, I raced back to the pond, hopeful the little gang of jumbo sunfish was still within reach. I tossed the crawlers in, grabbed the smallest rod I had with me, tied on a hook and paddled out to the spot. They hadn't gone far and within a couple minutes, it was go time.

Often, fishing requires a certain amount of finesse in order to find success. Certain lures or flies need perfect presentation at the perfect time during perfect conditions. The following scenario is far less romantic or suspenseful.

In fact, if not for the sole and honorable purpose of food procurement, I dare say it leans toward the "not so sporting" side of things. Nonetheless and being opportunistically minded, I threaded a crawler on the hook, let out about four feet of line and dropped the rig directly on top of the largest fish. Within seconds, the rod bent and I lifted a 10-inch, dinner-plate-sized sunfish out of the water.

Over the next half-hour, I repeated the process, targeting only the largest fish in the group until five of them flopped at my feet. They were all beautifully colored, but slight variations in both coloration and features made me curious as to whether a couple of them might be hybrids of some sort. Either way, I figured I had enough for the fry pan.

I did, however, have my eye on a nice largemouth bass I’d seen on the periphery of the action. After a few casts, a solid hookset and a couple of acrobatic aerial jumps, the 17-incher found its way into the canoe as well. Regarded more for its sportiness and far less for its palatability, I hold no reservation when the mood strikes to keep a bass and this one would be a welcome addition to the fish fry.

As fishing goes, there aren't really any bad days. Some are just some better than others and others are better than some. At 10 years old, so long as I had a dozen nightcrawlers, a red and white bobber and a cheap rod with a Zebco 202 reel, every day was a good day.

Back then, I would excitedly reel in fish after fish regardless of size or species, completely unaware those would be the best fishing days of my life. At 37, five jumbo-sized sunfish reminded me of how truly special fishing is and how priceless it is to have the opportunity to feel like a kid again, even if only for a few minutes.

As for the fish fry: without question, buttermilk-soaked sunfish filets dusted in seasoned flour and dropped into hot oil will please even the pickiest of eaters and I’ll boldly proclaim that it just might be my new favorite. I’ll be buying a few less lures this summer and a lot more night crawlers.

Chris Sargent is an avid outdoorsman, a former Maine Game Warden and lover of anything wild and tasty. Chris’ passion and appreciation for hunting, processing and preparing wild game has become more... More by Chris Sargent, Outdoors Contributor