I’ve been a bullhead enthusiast for years—doubtless following in the footsteps of my father who was, himself, a lifelong bullhead fan.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of those bullhead forays Dad and I made every spring. We ranged far and wide—to streams such as Twin Creek, Seven Mile, and the Stillwater River, or lakes like Acton, Rush Run, Cowan, Loramie, and Grand Lake St. Marys.

There were other waters, too—smaller creeks you wouldn’t think big enough to hold worthwhile fish, plus several nameless ponds.

One of the best things about bullheads is that you don’t have to go far to find them.

Bullheads were never considered second-class panfish in our household. In fact, they were near the top when it came to suppertime favorites.

A dozen or so bullheads, fresh-caught, cleaned, dusted with a seasoned cornmeal-and-flour mix, then pan-fried “in the round” in a big cast-iron skillet, provided the centerpiece of a supper meal fit for a king!

Over the years I’ve been guilty of mounting the season’s first bullhead expedition as early as late February. Cabin fever and a gnawing fishing obsession can lead to irrational acts.

March is somewhat better, weather-wise—but you still have to regularly deal with lots of dismal gray skies, numbing-cold wind-chill factors—rain that sometimes becomes sleet, even the occasional snow squall. Conditions not exactly conducive to a laid-back bullheading session.

I’m possibly becoming a wuss in my dotage. But if age hasn’t given me wisdom, it has at least made me less inclined to engage in bouts of self-induced suffering—even those involving fishing. I growing increasingly fond of no-hassle comfort.

April is nowadays my favorite bullhead fishing month. It’s the first full month of spring—a time of rebirth, rejuvenation, renewal, regrowth, and resurrection.

Practically from April’s get-go, I can count on good—or at least tolerable—weather.

Yes, it occasionally snows or sleets in April. Moreover, it rains regularly—so the ground is almost always muddy and bankside paths are treacherously slippery. Too, high water situations are a recurrent issue.

But it’s also a glorious time to be afield! The landscape has fallen under the vernal magic’s spell. Everywhere you look the chlorophyll rush is in full blast, a dazzling green explosion.

A continual symphony of joyous birdsong fills the air—ebullient arias, sparkling capriccios, piping glissandos—whether in a rousing chorus or an effervescent solo, no day lacks this delighting music.

Redbuds and dogwoods are in gorgeous bloom, and balmy the air is often sweet-scented with lilac.

Hours spent amid such an environment are a well-spent pleasure; you almost don’t need to catch fish. However, when you’re fishing for springtime bullheads on practically any lake, pond, creek, river, or brook around, it’s mighty hard to head home empty-handed.

Bullheads are available, abundant, and almost always willing to bite. All you have to do is offer them something they want to eat.

This brings up the precursory part of any bullheading adventure. Before I can actually get down to the business of bullhead fishing, I first make a bait-gathering sortie.

Bullheads will bite on practically anything—from chunks of cheese and bits of hotdogs, to chicken liver, commercial or homemade stink bait, dead minnows, and crayfish tails.

But far and away my preferred baits for April bullheading sessions are worms—either redworms or nightcrawlers.

Just as I note and remember good bullhead waters, I also keep a mental list of the best worm-digging locations I come across.

A couple have remained on that list for years—including one on the Stillwater I’ve been relying on for decades. Located on a long sand-and-gravel bar—it’s a waist-high, room-wide, seventy-yard organically rich driftpile of leaves, dirt, and assorted debris. A nature-made compost pile worms adore.

A few scratches with a handy digging stick and I can fill my bait bucket with an ample supply of wiggly redworms and night crawlers.

There are six species of Ohio bullheads, though only the black, yellow, and brown are of much interest to anglers. Most will run from three-quarters to a pound-and-a-half—just the right size for tasty eating. A two-pounder would be a dandy.

The best bullhead rig is on the light side of a typical catfishing tackle. I like 4 to 6-pound line and size 4 fine-wire hooks. Use only enough weight to keep your offering from drifting.

Bullheads aren’t fussy, but it pays to explore a bit before settling in one spot. Especially in spring when the fish are in spawning mode and tend to gather in certain places.

Spring bullheads aren’t for everyone. With their beady eyes, rounded snouts, chin-whiskers, and a fleshy-lipped expression bordering on a sneer, bullheads are the poster fish for homely. Elitists who like their fish pretty had best stick with bass and trout.

Yet to their legions of fans, yours truly included, this lack is a meaningless distinction.

Sometimes—especially in the spring—you just want to go fishing, not work too hard at it, but still count on catching a mess of good-eating fish.

Bullheads fill that bill. April’s the time to give these ubiquitous fish a whirl. Plus there’s simply no better way to kick off a new angling season.

Reach Jim McGuire at [email protected].