One of the greatest joys in fishing comes from tossing small lead-head jigs partnered with 2-inch curly-tail plastics in hopes of catching crappie, perch and bluegill.

When fishing with micro-light or ultra-light tackle spooled with 2- or 4-pound test line, even 1-pound panfish can be challenging. Especially when most of these species like to make the underwater sticks and branches of fallen trees their home. It doesn't take much to break off even the smallest fish in such cover.

Most of my saltwater friends don't get it, often joking me about my love of freshwater fishing - especially when some of the fish barely weigh a pound.

But when fishing for panfish, there always is that thought in the back of your mind that something bigger might bite. Chain pickerel, bowfin and other fish also like to make tangled shoreline structure their home. Panfish topping a pound, even approaching a couple of pounds, also are a possibility.

So is a largemouth bass.

Last Friday, on a gloriously warm and sunny afternoon, the canals that spill into Tull's Creek in northeastern North Carolina were relinquishing a nice variety of species - crappie, white perch, shad and a few bluegills. The action was good, and fishing partner Craig Wells, a Navy Chief from Minnesota, was learning the ropes and catching quite a few fish.

But one toss in between two stick-ups on a deep shoreline produced one of those rare and wonderful thrills that goes with panfishing.

Something hit a small jig and took off towards deeper water. Thank God it didn't go the other way, back into the sticks, where the 4-pound test line most likely would have fallen prey to the underwater branches.

The first thought was that it was a bowfin, a prehistoric beast that resembles a snakefish. Bowfin hit like a ton of bricks and peel line as if you were hooked to a train. But a minute and several runs into the fight revealed that the fish was a largemouth, and a pretty nice one.

The fish made two more runs while Craig Wells watched on in amazement.

Craig provided considerable entertainment during the fight, as if battling a big bass on light line isn't entertaining enough.

"What should I do, what do you want me to do....oh man, that's a big fish," he shouted frantically.

When the fish at first was thought to be a bowfin, I didn't care if it got off or not and told Craig to relax and enjoy the show. But when I saw that it was a bass, I casually turned to him: "Uh. . .maybe you should get the net."

Craig expertly dipped the fish into the net after I got it to the surface and along side the boat, and we had our first good look at fishing's most sought-after species.

I'm pretty good with guessing fish weights and figured the bass to weigh between 4 and 5 pounds - likely pushing more towards 5. It had been attacked when it was younger and had scars on both its sides. One eye was milky white, meaning the bass was a one-eyed feeding machine. For it to have grown to such a size with its obvious handicaps said plenty about this fish's will to live, grow and reproduce. It was photographed, kissed, thanked and released.

For several hours, as we continued to catch panfish, Craig's words were few, but remained entertaining.

"Man, that was a big fish," was about all he would say the remainder of the outing.

He had just witnessed one of the greatest joys of light-tackle fishing.