Sometimes it pays to seek a change of scenery.

Whether on the job or while puttering around the house, getting a different perspective can save the day in challenging situations.

It also works out on the lake.

Fishing friend John Breedlove of Girard and I ventured out on Mosquito Lake last Sunday to try to pop a few largemouth bass. We were enthusiastically counting on a great day, and it looked like it would be exactly that as we caught a couple of bass soon after we hit the water.

But the morning flurry died as the sun cleared the treetops and low clouds blew over Trumbull County.

As is typical on Mosquito in the summer, two or three bass tournaments were under way as Breedlove and I hunted for fish in shallow grass beds. The 7,000-acre lake gets considerable fishing pressure every weekend, but continues to produce great catches — in numbers and size.

A limit of three-pounders often falls short of making the money in tournaments at Mosquito, as the population of bass grows fat and sassy on the abundant perch, bluegills, crawfish and shad.

So it was with confidence that Breedlove and I soldiered on through the lull in the action; we were pretty sure the next fish (and a dozen more) were waiting just a cast or two away.

Anglers are constantly dealing with this question: Do I stay or do I move?

Fishermen can be stubborn. We stayed.

The clock ticked on and the next bite was still merely a hope. We fished hard, changing lures and concentrating on precision presentations. With a southerly breeze pushing us up the east side of the lake, we covered a lot of usually-productive water with nothing to show for our hundreds of casts other than sore shoulders.

Again the question. Stay or move?

John and I agreed it was time for a change of scenery. He fired up the Yamaha and pushed his Skeeter across the lake to one of his favorite weed beds on the west side.

The sky brightened as the sun peeked through the clouds, and we noticed the water was a bit cleaner than what we’d been fishing. Stormy weather Saturday night had riled up the east side of the lake, apparently enough to make the resident largemouths a bit skittish.

But their westside cousins were eager to play. John scored first. His hollow-body popping frog disappeared in a swirl and he winched in the first of four bass that fell for topwater lures.

The day had dawned with lots of promise and finished with a flurry, the kind of conclusion that fuels anglers’ desire to get back at it as soon as possible, proving again that a change of scenery can be a very good thing.

Jack Wollitz’s book, “The Common Angler,” is a collection of stories that explain why anglers are passionate about fishing. Send a note to jackbbaass@gmail.com.