|  Here's a story that demonstrates what I'm talking about. A few 
			years ago there was an amazing crappie bite on a smallish lake not 
			far from where I live. I heard about it, and of course I wanted to 
			get in on the action. But the word had gotten out so much that 
			everyone and their brother was out there beating up on those fish. I 
			really didn't want to join that army. So I did some research on the lake and saw on maps and satellite 
			images that it had a tiny feeder creek and an outgoing flowage that 
			spilled into a big wetland. Tracing the feeder creek up, I noted 
			that there was a spot about 15 miles away (and in the middle of 
			nowhere) where the creek made a sharp sweep and formed almost an 
			oxbow lake. Not big at all. Maybe 100 yards wide and 300 yards long. I figured if that creek was swimmable by crappies, then surely 
			some of them must have migrated up. And if the oxbow had enough 
			depth, then there could be a mother lode in there! 
			 Consulting a plat book, I found that the only access into that 
			water was via private land. So I found out who the property owner 
			was and called him up. A nice guy. He granted me permission and told 
			me the best way to get back there, on an old cow trail that hadn't 
			been used in years. Oh, and he also said I was "probably wasting my 
			time" because he didn't think there were any fish in it. The next day I pulled my truck and Aluma trailer over where the 
			landowner had told me to park — off a dirt road next to an old 
			rickety gate. On the other side, I could (sort of) see the cow trail 
			that would wind back to the oxbow. He wasn't kidding about the trail 
			being unused for years. Muddy, brushy, terrible ... I wondered if 
			I'd make it! After unloading my four-wheeler from the Aluma and strapping down 
			all my gear, I was off! It was an adventure, my friends, but after 
			getting stuck and unstuck a couple of times, I finally made it close 
			enough to walk in the rest of the way. Upon arriving at the water's edge, I was thrilled to find good 
			footing on the bank. Judging by the lay of the land and how the 
			water's depth dropped from shore, I was pretty certain this little 
			waterway had some decent depth. To check it, I performed a simple 
			little test: I set my slip bobber to 5 feet and made a long cast. 
			The bobber stood up. That meant it was at least 5-plus feet deep 
			there. I reeled up and reset it to 10 feet. It still stood up. 
			Excellent! I kept doing this until I determined that there was 
			roughly 14 feet of depth out at my longest cast distance. 
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			 From there I set my slip bobber to be about a foot off the bottom 
			(13 feet) and hurled out a REAL cast with a fat waxworm on my 
			feather jig. A few seconds later a sound caught my attention — a "swirly-water" 
			sound to my right. I looked over to see the remnant ripples of a 
			swirl about 15 yards down the bank. Was it a fish? A muskrat? I 
			didn't know, but the sight of it made my confidence soar! "Oh, 
			please, let that be from a fish," I begged. When I brought my eyes back to my bobber, it wasn't there! I slowly reeled up my slack line and set the hook. BINGO! Fish 
			on! Right away I knew it wasn't fighting like a crappie. Nope, 
			instead it was a jumbo perch. And I mean JUMBO! Wow, I was so 
			excited I could barely stand it. I felt like a little kid. As the afternoon trickled on, and without leaving my initial boot 
			prints, I caught fish after fish after fish. Crappies? My objective? 
			I only caught two. They were keepers: 9- to 10-inchers but perfect 
			eaters. I also caught a limit of huge bluegills! They were so 
			plentiful that I only kept the orange-throated males. A few decent 
			largemouth bass pounced on my jig too, along with a northern pike 
			that went about 4 pounds. But the heyday was on those big perch. Holy smokes, did I clean 
			up on perch! Fortunately I had the foresight (and hope) that I'd 
			catch fish in that oxbow, so I brought my YETI cooler with ice that 
			kept my catch fresher than fresh. When I got back to the road, and after loading all my gear back 
			on the Aluma, I paused to look down that cow trail as I closed the 
			owner's gate. I smiled as I thought about all those boats choked 
			into that little lake 15 miles away — connected by a small creek to 
			this secret oxbow. Without being part detective and part 
			bushwhacker, I would have never discovered that spot. 
			
			 I would tell you exactly where that spot is. But hey, the fun is 
			in finding your own secret fishing hole, isn't it? So start 
			exploring, my friends. And when you discover yours, keep it under 
			your hat and off the beaten path. Good fishing. 
            [By BABE WINKELMAN] 
            Babe Winkelman hosts "Good Fishing" and 
			"Outdoor Secrets," the most-watched fishing and hunting programs on 
			television. Tune in on NBC Sports Network, Destination America, 
			Velocity, Time Warner Sports Texas & New York, and many local 
			broadcast channels. Visit 
			Winkelman.com for airtimes and more information. Follow 
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