Showdown! “Mad Mama” Moorhen vs “Scaredy-Cat” Squirrel


Never mess with a moorhen. That was the lesson a squirrel learned today. The moorhen family on the little lake that I’ve mentioned in recent posts were over the far side of the lake. One of the parents and the chicks were on the lilies by the bank, while the other parent was up the bank. Suddenly the one on the bank went running along the path obviously angry about something. I then realised that it was chasing a squirrel! It was certainly one of the funniest things I’ve witnessed when fishing to see the two tearing along the bank at full tilt. Unfortunately it was over too quickly to capture on camera. I didn’t see the final outcome as they disappeared into the trees, but I later saw the moorhen looking none the worse for the encounter.

As for the fishing, when I arrived, the surface of the lake was covered in little rudd, and quite a few carp, which were looking very lethargic under the baking sun. I caught a few rudd and roach in the height of the afternoon heat, but it wasn’t until some shade began to creep across the water as afternoon moved towards evening that things began to liven up.

The first tench of the session came at about 5 o’clock. At 2.11 it was just an ounce short of my pb (Note: I’ve not caught many tench before!). This was followed about an hour later with the smallest tench I’ve ever caught, a pristine fish of about 8 ounces. Unhooking it was fun, as it was like handling a bar of wet soap that had come to life.

A further hour passed before the float shot away, heading rapidly for the nearby lily bed, succeeding in burying itself under the pads. At first I could still feel the fish, but another short surge saw it embed itself a bit deeper and all went solid. I thought that would be the end of it, but steady pressure gradually began to regain some ground and  eventually the fish emerged from the lilies into clear water. Once there, things were relatively calm, although the carp continued to put up a lively resistance. A minute or two later a nice linear mirror was in the net.

I’d been fishing close to the lilies throughout the session, but I’d also been baiting the other side of the swim, and after the commotion caused by the carp, I decided to give this other line a try. It wasn’t long before I was into the third tench of the day, a lively scrapper of about two pounds.

 

The Two That Got Away (and the ones that refused to be hooked)


It’s the usual fisherman’s tale of the biggun that got away. Well not really all that big, but big enough to snap a 7lb hooklink like cotton.

It was a funny afternoon from the start. On arrival at the pond that I fished the previous week, I found that I’d forgotten my chair. On the off-chance, I texted my mate Andy, who had said he might be joining me later, to ask if he had a spare chair he could bring along. By an odd coincidence, he was in the area and had a chair in the car, so about 20 minutes after I’d contacted him, he turned up carrying the chair!

Already, carp had started to feed around my swim, bubbling up the water. I’d started casting slightly to my right, but as a large patch of bubbles appeared by the lilies on my right, I cast my float to the patch of bubbles. Within 30 seconds, the float buried and the rod top bent round as a carp shot off towards the lilies. As I put pressure on to stop its charge, the hooklink suddenly parted. I was surprised by this, as I’d used a similar hooklink last week and was able to apply quite considerable pressure when playing a 7lb carp. Later, Andy mentioned  that he’d lost a carp in a similar fashion in the same spot on a previous visit, and wondered if there was a branch or other snag that the fish went into that caused the line to part.

Half an hour later, another carp picked up my bait and rocketed off towards the lilies on my right, but I was able to turn it and bring into open water, where I was confident of winning the battle. I’d almost got the fish to the net, when it turned and went into the small lilies at my feet, and somehow immediately transferred the hook to a lily stem.

Andy arrived later, and settled into the swim next to mine. He hadn’t been there long, when I was into another carp. The take was preceded by some bubbling a couple of yards from the float, then some bubbles a bit closer, then closer still, then the float shot away. Unlike the previous two, this one was successfully landed. It was a fully scaled mirror, weighing I suppose about four pounds.

By now the sun had dropped behind the tree, and there started to be increased activity in my swim, with lots of “fizzing” going on. Most of it I think caused by tench, although there was a carp in the area too. It was obvious that the fish were rooting around for the loose feed I was putting in as the fizzing was often right around my float, but apart from an occasional bob of the float, which I suspect was caused by fish brushing the line rather than mouthing the bait, not once was there a positive bite.

I had to leave early evening (and just in time to avoid a heavy shower), which was frustrating as the fish were still active in the swim. I later learned that Andy (who’d had a couple of tench from his swim), had moved to where I’d been fishing and had an eight pound carp from it.

A Pleasant Afternoon


Yesterday afternoon, I managed a few hours fishing on a small pond that I’d never fished before. It’s a nice little place, close to the M40, but tucked away in it’s own little spot, and relatively secluded – you wouldn’t really know you’re that close to heavy traffic. As far as stillwaters go, it’s the kind of place I like to fish, small (there’s only about a dozen swims), intimate and well-established. It’s surrounded by trees, there’s lily beds, and several patches of yellow irises. It has the feel of a classic tench water

On arrival, I could see small fish topping all over the place, with the occasional carp surfacing. Following the guidance of my mate Andy, who’s fished it a few times, I set up in a swim with a nice lily patch to one side, fishing sweetcorn under a float, in about 3 feet of water. I didn’t have to fish too far out and a gentle cast was all that was needed to get the float in place.

I was soon getting small bites, most of which I missed, but did eventually hook a skimmer bream. Another soon followed. Then I had two “sail-away” bites in quick succession which I somehow didn’t connect with. A third bite followed, and this time I did connect with a small but very lively tench that may have gone two pounds on a good day. I was very pleased with this, as it’s the first tench I’ve caught in around twenty years (not that I’ve fished for them much in that time).

By now, there were a least three carp active in the margins of my swim, two of them right at my feet, bumping the lilies about. But getting them to take a bait was not easy. I’d started fishing more or less off the rod-top to see if I could get one, but the first bite I hooked was a small rudd. It may not have been the intended target, but it was still very welcome, as – like the tench – it had been many years since I’d last caught one, and they are a beautiful fish.

A few minutes after returning the rudd, the float suddenly shot away with the speed of an express train, and I found myself attached to a carp, which had buried itself in the lilies before I had a chance to do anything about it. However, with steady pressure, I was able to gradually pull it back out into open water. A lively fight followed, and although the fish didn’t take any line off the clutch, it was dashing back and forth, and it took me several minutes to net it. A quick weigh showed it to go 7.04.

Carp, 7.04, Hillwood Pond

The commotion created while landing the fish caused the swim to go quiet for a while, although a carp did eventually start rooting around again in the lilies at my feet. All I managed to catch after that was a small roach-bream hybrid. But that was six fish with five different species in the afternoon, so I was well pleased with my efforts. Needless to say (as someone once said) I’ll be back.

Andy had turned up not long after I’d had the carp, and he set up in the adjoining swim. I had to leave around 7 o’clock, but I later heard that he’d had four tench and 2 carp, so he also had a short but productive session.

Common Cravings


The river season largely fizzled out, with only 2 trips to the banks after the September Wye holiday. The persistent floods put paid to a lot of the fishing. Andy & I had a couple of days on the middle Severn in March, which were somewhat unproductive, with only a couple of barbel and a jack pike to show for our efforts.

There were also a couple of trips attempting to lure a pike or perch from the canal. Apart from one very small pike (and I mean small!), this was a fruitless endeavour.

So, come the spring, and time to set sights on some carp and maybe some tincas. Off to the canal we went, and bloomin’ chilly it was too, with the spring sun yet to make its mark on the countryside. It seemed the fish were waiting for some warmth to bring them to life as Andy managed one carp, but I blanked.

Next on the agenda was an effort to catch a tench. We studied our club cards for a suitable venue and chose one, only to discover it was shut on the day we intended to fish due to a working party. So more research was done, and a second venue was chosen. There were two lakes on the site, but as one had a river running through it, it was shut for the close season. Typically, it looked the better of the two lakes, but the other one certainly looked good.

There's Tincas Out There Somewhere

There’s Tincas Out There Somewhere

Unfortunately the fish refused to come out to play, and our efforts came to nought.

Andy rests his eyes while waiting for the bite alarms to play a happy tune.

Andy rests his eyes while waiting for the bite alarms to play a happy tune.

Next up was a return to the canal in search of the elusive cyprio. The weather was at last showing some spring warmth, with temperatures moving into the low 20’s. Some warm sun on their backs seemed to improve the carps’ appetites, as at last I got some bites. I was keeping an ear on the commentary from the FA Cup Final (why does that have to kick-off at 5 o’clock? What was wrong with a 3 o’clock start?) Somewhere in between Hull’s second goal and Arse’s first, my swim sparked into action, and the bites came faster than those early goals at Wembley. First off, a common of 7lbs. Almost as soon as I’d returned the fish and put the rod out again, it was off, but somehow I failed to connect. Out went the bait again, and within a minute the alarm was bleeping furiously as a small common of about 3lbs tore off.

As with the football, the action slowed a bit after the hectic start. It was another 45 minutes before the next bite, yet another common, this one going around 6lbs and a further 30 minutes before a 5lb-er came to the net. All these bites had come to one rod, using a “Crave” boilie and pop-up, which stinks but the carp seem to like it.

The late spring sun shines on new life

The late spring sun shines on new life

It went quiet for a fair while then, and it wasn’t until the sun had nearly dropped over the horizon, before the next action. This time, it was the other rod that produced. This fish must have a sweet tooth, as it chose a white chocolate and coconut concoction. Finally, just as it got fully dark, the “Crave” rod took off again, but this time, after having played the fish for a couple of minutes, the hook pulled, much to my frustration, although I don’t think it was a particularly big fish.

So at last, the spring fishing has produced a few fish. Not big ones, but some excitement anyway.

 

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