The Jarfly 1.5"x 2" | 1/8 oz | Floating Cicada | 3 Per Pack

Some of my favorite childhood memories weren't made by catching fish.

They were made sitting on the roots of old sycamore trees that stretched out into the creek. I would sit there watching minnows flash through the current, dragonflies skim the water, and listening to cicadas sing from the trees above.

Every now and then, one would fall into the water — and the creek would come alive.

The Jarfly was built from that memory.

How It Fishes

Designed to imitate a struggling cicada trapped on the surface, the Jarfly floats naturally and can be fished weightless.

Cast it beside overhanging trees, shaded banks, root wads, or quiet current seams. Let it settle, then twitch the rod tip just enough to send soft rings across the surface — just like a real cicada trying to stay afloat.

Pause often. A lot of the best strikes come after the ripples fade.

Specs

• Length: 38mm / 1.5"
• Weight: 3g / approx. 1/8 oz
• Buoyancy: Floating
• Presentation: Weightless surface bait
• Best For: Trout, creek smallmouth, panfish, bass, and surface-feeding creek predators
  
  

Creek Life Tip

Do not overwork it. This bait shines when it looks helpless. Small twitches, soft ripples, long pauses.

Fish it like something fell from a tree — not like something trying to swim away.

Old Eli rocked back in his chair outside the country store, tipped his coffee toward the mountains, and grinned.

"You young'uns ever hear tell of the Jarfly?"

Nobody answered.

He chuckled.

"Didn't reckon you had."

"Long before these roads was paved and folks started hurryin' through life, there stood an old sycamore down by the creek. Biggest tree you'd ever lay eyes on. Roots stretched clear out into the water like the Good Lord built Himself a fishin' bench."

"Come every hot July afternoon, when the air got thick enough to wear, the cicadas would wake up."

"They'd sing so loud them hills would answer back."

"Now every once in a while one would lose its hold and tumble right outta that old sycamore."

"Plip."

"Wouldn't be but a heartbeat before every fish in that creek knew supper had done hit the water."

"The little creek chubs would race the bluegill."

"The bluegill would race the bass."

"And if an old brown trout happened to be hid beneath them roots..."

"...well..."

"He'd win every time."

Old Eli stared into his coffee a spell before speaking again.

"Folks thought it was the cicadas doin' the singin'."

"But us mountain people knew better."

"It was that old sycamore callin' the creek back to life."

"And if you ever find one of them old trees leanin' over a quiet creek..."

"...sit awhile."

"You just might hear it sing."