Growing up in Maine, I, like many others, considered it “Brook Trout country.” The true challenge, we thought, was chasing coldwater species—trout and salmon. Bass? They were easy to catch and not worth keeping for the table. That was the perception.

But since moving closer to the Penobscot and Kennebec Rivers—two world-class Smallmouth fisheries—I’ve come full circle. Smallmouth Bass have earned my respect, and I’ve grown a real taste for them in more ways than one.

The idea that bass aren’t challenging? A myth. Sure, there are days when it feels like they’ll smash anything that hits the water. But other days, it’s a game of precision—finding the right color, size, and presentation to fool them. They’re smart, too. I’ve fished a shoreline, caught several bass, only to return later and find the bite shut off. Maybe I’ll pick up one or two that didn’t see my last offering, but the rest? They’ve caught on.

And let’s talk about the fight—pound for pound, smallies are some of the hardest-fighting fish out there. They leap, dive, and pull with a ferocity that makes every hookup a thrill. Even better, you can catch them just about any way you like—on top-water or subsurface. Wets, streamers, dries, gurgling surface bugs, and even nymphs can all entice a strike. But there’s nothing quite like the explosive surface action when a smallie smashes a top-water fly lure or fly.

And then there’s the myth that smallmouths don’t taste great. As a guide, I’ve been asked many times to provide a shore lunch, cooking up the day’s catch. Sometimes that’s a pickerel, sometimes a mess of white perch, and often, a nice-sized Smallmouth bass. To my surprise, I prefer the bass. The fillets are bigger than perch, without the bones of a pickerel. The meat is tender, white, and flakes apart beautifully, frying to a perfect golden brown when breaded or battered.

Are Smallmouth Bass undervalued? Maybe. Or maybe they’ve just been waiting for anglers like me to give them the appreciation they deserve.