Bass reveal their hunting tactics to sharp-eyed anglers.

She was swimming slowly along the bank, about three feet deep. Through the clear water of Lake Wohlford, we could see she was big, maybe eight pounds. If we’d landed her then, in 1950, she’d have been a real trophy, as this was long before the California Fish and Game Department introduced the Florida subspecies there.

We cast crankbaits in her direction for several minutes, hoping she’d bite. (It was also well before the first plastic worms.) Our casting soon alarmed her, and she disappeared into the depths.

It would be many years before I took time to consider what I’d seen and could learn from this sighting. We thought her open-water appearance was an exception. Fishing magazines and scientific literature suggested that largemouths typically lurk in cover, ambushing prey and lures.

More than 45 years later, my home overlooks a community pond containing largemouth bass. Day after day, I watch as bass move through the shallows and patrol the shoreline in loosely organized schools of three to six fish. Pausing periodically, they turn to face and search cover edges and the nearby shore for prey.

Occasionally a bass holds for a minute or two under a floating log, in the shade of a vegetation clump, or in open water, but the most active fish typically cruise, searching cover rather than hiding in it. They do not seek shade or lie in ambush while hunting. Preyfish alert to their approach are ignored, but any unwary preyfish in range is attacked.

I’ve watched a small, active adult bass circle a log, turning toward it periodically, just as cruising bass turn toward cover. Once the small bass jumped over the log, apparently snatching a dragonfly that had landed on it. The fish disappeared briefly when four larger bass passed under the log without stopping, but soon returned to circle the log again.

Active bass, like the four noted above, tend to cruise the shoreline about three feet deep, deeper in clear water and shallower in stained water. From their pausing positions, they dart into water as shallow as four inches to take minnows or small sunfish. After an attack, a bass school usually moves farther along the shoreline.

I often glance at my Fish-En-Time watch to note the hour of solunar activity. I’ve seen moving bass at all hours of the 12-hour solunar cycle, but I more likely see active bass during the solunar major hour and near the minor hours. It’s hard to see bass at morning and evening twilight, but these low-light periods often reveal surface feeding activity as baitfish jump to escape. This feeding activity occurs whether or not a major or minor coincides.

I became a dedicated bass watcher while studying fish and fishery management at Southwest Texas State University. Almost every day, I’d sit on a high bank overlooking one of the many ponds at the Aquatic Science Facility. Sometimes no bass were visible, but if I studied the bottom and the vegetation through polarized glasses, I’d spot an inactive bass or two lying motionless in holes in the cover. Sometimes, as if on cue, several bass would rise out of hiding to be joined by others. These bass then cruised the shoreline or edges of vegetation in small loose schools, just like the bass in my backyard pond.