NEBRASKAland Magazine is dedicated to outstanding photography and informative writing with an engaging mix of articles and photos highlighting Nebraska’s outdoor activities, parklands, wildlife, history and people.
Issue link: https://mag.outdoornebraska.gov/i/1545575
May 2026 • Nebraskaland 65 and casting only for big bass. "He uses $75 lures that look like a muskrat swimming around the pond," Ron joked. Mark then told a now-fabled Steve story. "One night, Steve had a big bass strike that yanked his $800 rod-and-reel combo right out of his hands. He didn't hesitate — he dove into the water after it, phone in his pocket and all. He got the rod, and the phone survived, but he lost his $100 Oakley sunglasses. We laughed our butts off." Switching to Bass As the sun neared the horizon and bullfrogs began croaking from the shallows, the anglers switched to larger rods and heavier line for bass. From about 10 yards out, they cast rubber frogs and worms and crankbaits near — and on top of — the dense mat of American lotus pads ringing the shoreline. A big bass swirled deep among the pads, prompting Mark to pitch his frog to the spot. The fish struck in a flash, but missed. The performance repeated on the next two casts, then the fish gave up the game. Seeing the action, Ron was prompted to switch lures and asked Mark if his frog was weighted. "Yeah, it's got a little lead up front," he replied. "Just like you," Marty chimed in. Gene, the least raucous onboard, gave me a smile and said, "Just like a bunch of kids. I'm nice to Mark because I'm new and want to be asked back." The bass hit consistently, though most were small; the largest weighed about two pounds. Mark said bass fishing in the pond isn't what it used to be. They once caught many 3- to 4-pounders, but not anymore. He believes the decline may be part of a natural cycle, especially since they release all bass. But he also blames the American lotus along the shoreline. In spring, big bass hold in shallow bedding areas, but the lure-snagging lotus makes casting nearshore difficult. "Lotus are good for fish, but not fishing," he said. When the sun slipped below the horizon, the group decided to call it a night. Mark turned the boat toward the dock and hit the throttle, allowing Ron one final jab at the captain. "I just got my last cast into the lily pads and now we're going 60 miles an hour," he said. "Being captain stinks," Mark replied. "I've been harassed all night." With the boat secured and gear loaded into trucks, the fishermen — keeping with tradition — sat in lawn chairs or leaned against tailgates and enjoyed a cold drink as they relived the evening. They agreed the fishing had been good, then headed home one by one until only Mark and I remained. As we said our goodbyes, I thanked him for the evening, and he invited me back. "Sure thing," I said. A bit more therapy couldn't hurt. N