An homage to Canada’s beloved yellow perch and the joys of simple fishing

Do you remember the very first perch you caught, that flash of green and yellow amid vertical black bars, the spiny dorsal fin threatening to prick your fingers? Maybe you remember how plentiful they were off the end of the dock, where the weeds dropped away into deeper water, and that you could always count on your bobber going down. The perch were always there, reliable old summertime friends—unless there was a toothy pike lurking nearby, of course.

What I love most about perch is they’re one of the only fish species that seems to grow with us. We target the tiniest ones when we can barely walk, then before you know it, we’re covering vast bodies of water—and investing who knows how much money into equipment—just to connect with the jumbo versions of those same spiny little fish.

During winter, we brave snow, sleet and freezing temperatures to run-and-gun across vast frozen bodies of water, drilling dozens of holes to catch perch. And come the open-water season, we continue to follow their movements, learning to figure them out. We fish tournaments for them, where grand prizes beckon. We fill livewells with spectacularly large specimens that will become our beloved fish tacos. And every now and again, we catch giants worthy of photographing and hanging on our walls.

There are plenty of fish species that follow along as we move through life and our individual careers as anglers, but I can’t think of a better example than yellow perch. From Alberta all the way to Nova Scotia, they’re a blast to catch. And the fact they taste great is simply the icing on the cake.

Contributor Mike Fitzgerald still enjoys fishing for yellow perch and watching his bobber go down.