To see so many water fowl is welcoming as it signals a lack of otters. One year we had just a few coots and I voiced an opinion that brer otter may be at large. The chap I'd spoken to was landing a fish that very night and there, in his torch light as the fish was beaten, an otter's head appeared and watched the proceedings. A benefit from a long dry period is that the little brown horrors stay in the rivers, not that I welcome them there either.
Neil had a trip and performed his usual early season routine of having a right mare. He foul hooked a huge fish that would have beaten his personal best, lost another then landed another fish of around the thirty mark. Alas, his attempts to photograph this beast resulted in his mobile phone going for a swim. The fish (he'd also forgotten to borrow my scales), was quickly returned and the phone eventually recovered.
On our next visit Neil, now with a different phone and a new set of scales, had a point to prove. Being a kind dad I yielded to his puppy dog eyes and he took prime spot whilst I went elsewhere. I quickly felt it was a mistake. I struggled for a couple of recently stocked small commons, and a 24 pounder. I was happy with my catch but I just knew that Neil was in the going spot.
I actually wound in on both nights as I could not face stumbling about in the cold. I had just popped a couple of Paracetamol into my mouth and the alarm sounded as my bobbin leapt and fell a few times. Grabbing a bottle of drink and swallowing the foul tasting pills was my priority, then it's the scrabble of negotiating a recumbent dog and hitting the fish. It was a bream.
I'm not one for leaving my rods unattended. I've got the obligatory 'sounder box' for my alarms but it's rarely used. However, having nipped up to the car, the dog demanded some attention. I lobbed a stick a few times and had a little wander to see if anything was basking in the sunshine. An invisible cord was pulling me back to my swim but I wanted to check one last sunken tree and to get Cane to fetch a predated duck egg I'd rolled down the bank, and of course, it happened. Bleep, bleep, bleeeeep! I ran. I don't often perambulate above a stroll so this was something of an event and the dog was alongside me, egg shell lightly held in his mouth and enjoying every step. Gasping and on the point of collapse (well it was over a hundred yards), I bent into a heavy weight that was attempting to find security in the newly emerging lily bed. The fight was more ponderous than exciting and a 24 pounder came to the net.
Of course, it will balance out and I'll knock the boy of his pedestal before too long....... won't I?
Good fishing mate. My first trip this season was bream alley!!!ReplyDelete
I didn't mention all the bream I caught Kevin... there's usually a few boilie stealing monsters about :o)Delete