The crappie is a swimming contradiction, a common household fish enshrouded by myths. Many of the generalities about crappies don’t hold true much of the time.

A small panfish? Maybe, if anglers have cropped too many big ones. Everywhere they exist, crappies of the black and white persuasion can reach three pounds or more. The world record is a 6-pounder.

Skittish biters requiring small baits, bobbers, and the like? Not when they’ve cornered a shoal of minnows and viciously slash the surface to engorge several fish at a time.

An open-water fish demanding skilled sonar use and tackle to suspend baits at their chosen depth range? Not in spring, when they camouflage themselves and sulk among the densest cover.

This last aspect of the capricious crappie is the topic of this tale. During spring, anglers have or soon will have a shot at some of the best, yet some of the most challenging crappie fishing of the year.

The crappie’s preference for cover makes spring crappie fishing easy while simultaneously challenging, yet another contradiction. A recount of recent early-season crappie trips shows how choice of cover can be critical to fishing success.

The first outing involved the exploration of a large, mesotrophic natural lake just as the ice was breaking. We found access to most bays off the main lake impassable, as great sheets of ice pressed against the northern shore, propelled by a mild southerly wind.

Relaunching in a small bay, we began to check patterns, experimenting with livebaits and lures, depths, and cover options. The dense brush gathered by beavers seemed likely, in depths from 1 to 5 feet. Nobody home—a verdict arrived at after 5 minutes of watching floats bob in the afternoon breeze. Tattered remains of lily pads similarly failed to yield crappies, though some bass made things interesting on our light rigs.

Finally, drifting within hailing distance of a local crappie guide and his client, we discussed the bite. Seems the pair had begun picking up a few fish by letting their Puddle Jumpers barely tick the tops of eelgrass and decaying cabbage that carpeted the bottom in 3 to 5 feet of water. Though they tried to minimize the splashing at boatside, they clearly were onto something.

We, too, were ready with Puddle Jumpers, a staple year-round soft plastic bait, and we soon joined the action. We rigged our 11⁄2-inch lures on minute jigheads and suspended them on Thill Shy Bite floats. Toward dusk, the crappies ventured more confidently from the thick bottom-hugging weeds, offering a torrid bite in the 42°F water.