Named after Ozarks guide Ned Kehde, a Ned is deadly on bronzebacks.
A lot of anglers throw Senkos for river smallmouths. I’ve been throwing Yum Dingers and Shim-E-Sticks rigged Wacky style for more than a decade, otherwise catching the bass on topwaters and jerkbaits. So it came as a surprise that a stubby 2-1/2-inch plastic, resembling half a Senko, mounted on a 1/16-ounce, stand-up jighead seems as good as my Dingers. But that’s the Ned Rig. Who hasn’t heard of it?
I wouldn’t say the jury’s out yet on which is better. My committing more than a few river outings to the Ned Rig, however, erodes the longstanding habit I still resist giving up. And the two plastics do fish differently, which complicates matters. Senkos sink a lot slower, drift with the current through the mid-column, and don’t get stuck between rocks as easily. Even the 1/16-ounce jighead (many anglers choose 1/10- or 1/8-ounce) results in a lot of yanking from rocks. I didn’t lose a Ned Rig on every outing, but rocks gobble them up, and again and again you walk left or right to pull them free.
A steady retrieve is the exception, largely because the standup style defines a bottom bait. I was surprised, given how quickly the Ned Rig sinks, at how well it drifts with the current, ticking rocks as it goes, any lateral lines nearby taking the clue. But the great distance a 1/16th-ounce version casts gives away the plastic body’s adding significant weight. And the current carries that body.
Slow-hopping with rod tip at 2 o’clock, keeping control over the rocks the rig knocks, involves lifting slightly before any unnecessary sinking and getting stuck in-between. That preserves the cash in my bank account and the time I spend working the river rather than tying on Ned Rigs. It’s a better presentation of the rig to the bass, too
Hopping the jig effectively is not a repetitive motion, and yet it’s only as subtle as the distinction between a bass taking it and a rock holding it back from you. You can tell the difference if you pay attention. Set the hook immediately on a bass. Any bass will hold onto that soft plastic; even a little one gets a good grab. Ultimately, what determines drift and lift is your interpretation of the rig in relation to the rocks it’s bumping. Observation of the feel, not feel alone, makes the fishing quite fascinating, because it’s informed guesswork. So long as you don’t get too annoyed at the bottom gobbling up your rigs no matter what you do.
Besides bottom bumping a standup jig, does it work well on a moderate retrieve? That all depends, but it is easier. I have caught river bass on retrieves broken by twitches, but there’s a drawback. A single bass hooked would prove to be an active fish, but after it gets caught, no more hits coming from the same spot educates you (the bass have earned their degrees.) Casting and retrieving any sort of lure will likely put them off, while a subtle approach doesn’t seem to alarm them. I’ve written before about pressured fish, and I believe nothing but a cold front and cold water puts bass off more than lures do. At least lures that make themselves all too evident.
Some anglers believe only bass that get caught and released behave with that pressured indifference we observe in the water and infer from our lack of success. But I have two responses to that opinion. For one, a lot of the bass in a river get caught and released. Secondly, I’ve read about bass getting caught and releasing chemical emissions as an alarm. I believe a result of that is entire populations wary of the lures we throw at them. That doesn’t mean moments don’t happen when bass hit, but pay attention and I bet you’ll notice they’re taken off guard. Although they remain aggressive animals regardless of their caution, their aggression usually isn’t easily triggered.
Some conditions release that caution. But river veteran Brenden Kuprel bottom bumped his Ned Rig, when he caught 50 smallmouths from one of our local rivers on a summer day. Paying attention will always afford its rewards.
