In the coldest waters of spring, every bit of realism, enticement, and apparent edibility a lure can project is an advantage to anglers. That’s why, as the last few handfuls of lures come together on my vise ahead of the open water season, whisps of marabou pile up in drifts of red, white, chartreuse, and olive on the wood of my desk and attach themselves to the seams of my blue jeans like mini-Velcro. As one of my favorite materials, it comprises at least some part of many of those offerings I’ll first throw out there after the ice comes off and crappies, walleyes, trout and smallmouth bass present themselves in those early forays on open water.

Through thick and thin

On the vise, marabou is big, puffy and moves with the slightest breath of air, a property that’s evident by the line of different colored feather fibers amassed along the edge of the small hook box on the far side of my tying station. In the crappie and walleye jigs and the woolly bugger and other streamers I tie for spring trout, it looks like a large skirt, wrapped tight at the collar, or where the tail forms on a pattern, tapering from small to big like a swing dancer’s skirt.

In the water, however, marabou takes on a different but no less attractive shape. Once wet, the fibers cling together in an elongated form taking on the profile of a leech or small minnow. With a twitch and a pull, they pulse together providing one of the ultimate fish-triggering motions under the surface; the illusion of a meal that’s about to make a desperate spurt to get away from the jaws of the predator lurking behind it.

While dry marabou lures already look cool, but underwater their attractiveness is amplified in a different way, going from puffy and thick to thin and jumpy in that fragment of a second it takes to soak them. At times, unable to wait to see how a certain pattern looks, I’ll run some water in the sink or fill a large glass measuring cup and dunk a newly-crafted lure to get an idea of how a brown trout, bass or bluegill will see it once it sinks beneath the surface.

Added or alone

So versatile and attractive, marabou makes up at least part of many of the patterns I tie each spring. From burner bucktails for pike and muskies with woven balls of brightly dyed marabou feathers anchored on a metal coil above a 5/0 treble hook to 1/32-ounce jigs tipped with natural tails of gray, brown and cream from the bottom of a rooster pheasant, my supply is often depleted down to stumps of clipped feather quills and the choicest parts of last fall’s pelt nearly bald from use.

In some instances, I make a simple crappie jig from just a triangle of the undulating feathers tied in around the collar with seven or eight wraps going back. Other times, I make a short delta of a tail at the end of a chenille body, and in many cases as the season goes along, both are effective choices for the green-sided panfish.

One of the neat things to try each spring is a variety of color combinations, whether that’s the feathers and the body material, or the matching of two hues of marabou in a single skirt. Sometimes I go with black-and-yellow for a killer bee pattern, or brown and olive for a leech. Orange and purple make for a fun hyper crayfish, while traditional red and white provide the confidence that at least a pike will take to the bunch of beautiful tufts aligned at the end of a lure.

In the end, some of the combos become staples in next season’s pattern list, and others just provide a wild look in the water which makes me wonder why only I like it and the fish don’t.

The final wraps are going on the jigs and streamers making their way to my spring tackle collection, and the last viable fibers of marabou comprise their tails. Whether you craft your lures by hand or pick them up from the displays at your favorite tackle shop, this springtime staple is an important one for its amazing effects on fish in chilly waters – and really, any time of year.

Create or purchase those marabou offerings you think will tempt fish of all types and traits this spring, and you’re likely to find a key ingredient to angling success for many species…in our outdoors.

— Nick Simonson is the lead writer and editor of Dakota Edge Outdoors.