Prime Suspect

He was a naturally scruffy and imperfect little soul. Black and grey hair matted and his shins often coated in spare gravy 'for later'. The dandruff fell from his skin like salt from a pot and yet he was the dearest of chaps.

His eating habits were as equally rapid as messy, but always preceded by an all-but terminal, physically evident fear that the food being prepared would not be for him.

On trips, he would set his more perfectly formed big brother off in howling sessions such that would make the rest of the family resort to headphones, conveying the message he was here, there, or anywhere for that matter.

This led me to wonder why dogs howl. 

Some brief research made the discovery that it was thought to be to announce their presence. A kind of, "We're over here, in case any of you can't find us", message. It keeps the pack safe and in numbers.

Anglers, and others no doubt, have often pondered the reason for fish to 'top', the written word on angling often referring to this as 'priming' (though I have no idea why), that is the tenancy for individual fish to come to the surface, roll over, causing the telltale concentric rings of outward moving ripples, and return to the depths.

Given that everything happens for a reason it seems a little puzzling at first glance. What is the evolutionary advantage in exposing one's self to risk of predation by such an action? 

Peak times for such activity are dawn and dusk but it can also go on throughout the day. Again, the question is, "Why?". 

It's not a feeding activity. Fish that are feeding at the surace have a quite different form of action, more aggressive and 'splashy', and why don't predatory fish do it? Pike, and perch? 

It's intensity can vary between species. Chub will crash at the surface at dusk, whereas roach are the gentlest exponents of the craft.

A subject I have pondered for a lifetime, on and off, has drawn me to one conclusion that it is the direct equivalent of dogs howling. A message by the unspeaking to avoid the unspeakable. 

"If you lost touch or are passing through, come and join us, we're safer together". 

It certainly seems to be promoted by stillness and light levels but should not be confused with the propensity of rudd to surface feed avidly at dusk, especially where food in the form of invertebrates has drifted into a certain part of a stillwater. Rudd are generally very  unsubtle toppers as are roachXbream hybrids!

Apart from the sight of large roach breaking surface I have to say the one that makes my inner soft spot glow is the sight and sound of stone loach "fripping" at dusk as they burst the surface of streams in a display of apparent delight in feeling sufficient confidence to slip the lair at dusk.

Whatever the purpose of the habitual routine, it is clearly one trait that has stood some non-predatory fish species the test of millions of years' existence. 

A Reflective Surface

The fields rolling and falling though marsh to the rush-lined margins, bleached and wrung-out by winter.

A consuming stillness save for the calling raven, finches and thrushes. Artificial yet real, but isn't it all?

Three moorhen career through the pasture's edge headlong as if to fall in a chestward heap, legs in cartoon motion to the rear. How many are they, these ever-present canal rails? Thankfully more than sufficient to gladden the heart on all-but every gongoozling excursion, without doubt.

Here a major chunk of F, F & F history would be recalled. Negotiation, advertisement, commitment, engagement and satisfaction in the pursuit.

This was a stretch of the most picturesque Midlands canal snaking, as it still does, from dark tunnel to complex locks; through ancient parkland with its mature oaks and chestnuts; cutting through sheep pasture like a chisel to linocut. The result the same. A work of human art.

A change had come. Rush beds extended, reedmace beds established. A wide, now narrowed, bend and whereas, in decades past, the plate glass surface would be punctuated by the innumerable concentric rings of myriad small roach. Now- nothing.

Here, one imagined barn owl and drifting hen harrier slipping over rough grassland untouched by beast or harrow from decent to recent times.

There, a badger sett high and deep in the clay bank.

Then otter-marked brick paving. "Private, trespassers will be persecuted", it said to anything capable of interpreting it.

Today so different.

In years gone, sixty brethren would gather in the dawn-time mist. A fleece and nylon clump of pink-eyed expectation and laughter. "That's a posh shirt you're wearing there George. Are you trying to raise the standard of match angling attire?"

Of those a handful would remain to be showered as they coveted; the clump dissolved to all corners; glitter cast on the worthy.

Perhaps a shoal of bream, a 'juicy' tench or carp, a hard-won net of sparkling roach would attain the jewels, and otherwise perhaps just a handful of tiddlers as winter set in.

The crinkle-cut towpath edge, a straightened pastry cutter, still beats out those reminders with a numerical rhythm.

Twenty-three, the first; through thirties, a favourite 52 and up to 74, a narrower tiddler-filled straight.

Today though it was the teens and in pursuit of that toothiest of adversaries, pike. They had always been here. A slowly raking, shallow near shelf overhung by branches but the turbidity would prove to work against us and only the nuthatch, dunnock and siskin would keep us from sliding into tedium.

The historic stone wall, consumed by ivy yet still partly intact beside the massive oak and, more distant, fresh lamb; twins and triplets in red and blue. How closely the ewes knit their lanolin-infiltrated wool to the reins of their excitable young.

March violets quietly bloom, a modesty instilled by evolution, on woodbanks and in the lee of hawthorn hedges. Hints of green among the marginal rushes and young rabbits, all dewy-eyed twinkles and bobbing white tails, conscious of the soaring threat of these cloudy skies.

Spring, and the sweet shop is again open.

Variety and Application...or...What to do when it gets tough

Christmas Day a warm memory, the FF&F household refreshingly quiet as the others recover and a scattering of Santa seed brings a small flock of chaffinches to the bare bonfire surrounds, but the male dominated group are flighty and currently peer out from the trees awaiting the first mover to trigger the rest to follow.

A lone fieldfare, a much overlooked species but quite beautiful if one takes the time, in violent pursuit of anything thrush-like, ensures the fallers are his

Pondering the last month, it has been outstanding in its unpredictability and, largely weather driven, hit-and-miss-ness. It pays to plan carefully and ensure anything is possible at any moment but even then these intentions will fail more often that not without stable conditions.

Applying the experience of the decades is so important at such times and, rifling through the notes, it makes for a veritable eclecto-feast of tactics:
15.11.17 - Canal - sea deadbaits & lures
17 11 17 (am) - Reservoir - Cage feeder & bread
17 11 17 (pm) - Stream - Cage feeder & liquidised bread
18 11 17 - Reservoir - Slider & caster
19 11 17 - Reservoir - Experimental 'zig rig' with bread
20 11 17 - Reservoir - Waggler & caster
22 11 17 - Canal - Spratt deadbaits
25 11 17 - Canal - Lift method & bread
26 11 17 - Reservoir - 2 x maggot feeders
28 11 17 - Canal - Lift method & bread
29 11 17 - Reservoir - 'Zig rig' & bread
02 12 17 - Canal - Lift method & bread
03 12 17 - The Stillwater - Mackerel deadbaits
17 12 17 - ditto
18 12 17 - River - Pole feeder & bread mash

Minus 10C overnight; five or six inches of snow; heavy rain; 11C in the day; clear skies & sun have all been over and upon us during that period and none of them to any benefit for the angler unless they were to stick around and become the norm

The above and more determine the unquestionable need to keep the mind active and look to apply methods that will work in the particular circumstances that prevail, led by the preceding and present weather

In all those trips since the last post (not now bugler!) there have been one or two highlights that must not be omitted. Top of the list, firmly, a call from a dear old former traveling companion who, since our paths diverged, made his merry way into one of the handful of top English match angling teams as soon as I stopped holding him back(!), captained them until 3 years ago and took part in the World Club Championships. We could have spoken for hours and it took only a few seconds of the call to get onto angling! I can see it will be regular thing now that we're back in touch

Onto actual angling - a second-largest stillwater pike of 8.11 was rapidly subsumed into the afterglow of a p.b. dismantling lump of 16lbs precisely. The third bite in three casts at dawn. A perfectly spotless fish, well those spots that weren't supposed to be there at least, if you get my drift-float. To top it, there was still some snow around to enhance her visage

A three pounds nine ounce chub first cast on the pole feeder with bread was welcome on a particularly tricky day on the Warwickshire Avon. The somewhat subdued fight brought about by the elastic a boon when fishing this method. Unfortunately a slip and sudden flip saw it back in the drink before I had even taken the camera from the bag, so to speak. Accomplished as ever.

The chaffinches have returned on the other side of the glass and, grabbing the bin's, we seek that gem of the winter, a brambling, but no such fortune as yet. It usually takes a prolonged spell of desperately cold weather to bring such rarities to the garden and today follows that pattern.

Slider-fished double caster was successful in teasing a two pound perch from eleven feet of chilly reservoir water in a clear patch when weed was problem further out but it took three repeat sessions of regular feeding that same swim to encourage the blighter and some of his small brethren to risk a nibble

The hawfinches continue to elude us but regularly visiting bearded tit showed well enough in the reservoir reedbed, a male again this year. Sometimes as many as six are seen but just the one on this occasion of passage. An agitated individual, seemingly unable to settle, and, flitting from reed stem to reed stem, made itself impossible to photograph and therefore there is no proof to share

Of course I would want normally to close on that now traditional note of a nice big a canal roach. In fact a fish of 1lb 3ozs 3 drams from the banker swim and a bright highlight in a largely testing six week period only very occasionally punctuated with gems but, inexplicably, there is no pic so we will have to make do with this unseasonal tench taken two days before Christmas on a rubber/real red maggot balanced hookbait hopefully wafting just above the reservoir bed. This welcome winter imposter went 2.15.0 but when it came to etiquette in front of camera she was clearly found flipping wanting!

The day will close with heavy rain and then snow

The only certainty therefore being the uncertainty of the weather

A Variety of Similarities.

A twittering, a chattering, a sip.

Leaning back under mature salix - gazing into the canopy - the innumerable gathering throng.

Blue, great and long-tailed they are. A post breeding flock of families slowly forage as a group yet frantically feed individually as they wend the willow-lined watercourse.

Hopeful I search. The occasional slurp of an ancient carp barely noticeable in distant fringing lillies.

Aurally straining. Yes, there is one there, and so is another

The most incomprehensibly evolved of passerines, the treecreeper, probing every crevice and fissure of the arboreal armour. A louse here, a moth there. A delicate call and the loose organic cloud rolling through the treetops is gone, but remains intact.

----

The forecast indicated cloud. The sky indicated continuous sun.

The latter prevailed.

The Gormless Old Duffer, shirtless, was not a pretty sight. Thankfully we had the lake to ourselves. I wished it had been to himself.

Carp, of no great size, cruised in teenage gangs in the shallows, terrorising anything resembling food like orca eyeing-up seals.

No matter, we knew the big fish would feed first and then, when the heat became too much, the action would subside. This was certain. Past experience would prove it.

Four balls of ground-ait and feed went in. The Gormless Old Duffer on the feeder with an alarm. Myself on the slider.

An hour or more passed.

The alarm was silent (we checked it was switched-on). The float, well, floated. Clearly I'd bought one without any bobs in it.

Then out of the blue the alarm went, the arm dropped...and...no contact.

The slider slid and a fighting roach of half a pound was grounded and returned.

Fish topped with playful abandon.

An idea. The lake was deep and the fish might have been in higher water layers.

The canal rig shot were redistributed and the float pushed-up to 7 or 8 feet.

Bites on the drop on corn, every cast but after five 2 to 5 ounce roach - instant boredom. This wasn't the game we came to play.

Chess please, not draughts.

Back to the slider and the float immediately lifted, then disappeared beyond the visible depth and a good one was on. No fight though. It must've been a stick. But no, a large signal crayfish burst through the surface to its legally required destiny.

At first a carpet had been laid-out and a few ingredients were threaded onto the hook in desperation. Instantly the float behaved unusually and a nodding donkey was hooked. Never a battle to write home about but a fish that lights the F,F&F candle whenever it exceeds three pounds.

This slime-coated stinker hit the bar at four pounds six ounces and the day was made.

----

This had been part of an inadvertent trend. Though it had not been realised at the time and being, or trying to be, a modest sort made it all the more surprising.

A sort of introspective retrospective I suppose.

Bronze bream.

They had been prioritised on lake and river for quite a number of trips and, without quite realising it, I'd been involved in a campaign.

Of course any decent summer species is welcome when the water is low and clear and the prospect of anything other than carp on a lake seems increasingly unlikely.

I'd found a shoal on the river but in three trips only managed two fish within half an early hour of each other; catching them before they hit the morning snooze button.

The second was a river p.b. at 4.10 (I've dropped bothering with the silly drams now except for smaller species!) and a dark old bottom feeder he was too.

Lake fish peaked at 4.8 among a raft of other four pounders. A weight that suddenly feels the norm.

----

So with the species ticked in both lake and river categories today the trusty bus headed for the river with carp in mind on one rod and dace on the other.

Rest assured, like any other person, when a target is set there is the disproportionate likelihood for all to fail.

Maggots sprayed 3/4 across and boilies (yes, you heard right, boilies!) along nearside marginal lilies and streamer weed. A perfect swim. 7 feet deep between weed-beds and just enough room to trot through.

Thirty or so roach, dace and chublets later, the 'donk, donk, treadwater, donk' of a meaty adversary. So clear was the water that the fish came into view quickly. First thought was, tentatively, chub but on closer viewing the unmistakable outline of yet another bream was discerned. About three pounds was the initial assessment but in a decent flow and with a sixteen to two pound fluorocarbon between it and the net odds were very much against.

Nodding interspersed by cautious retrieval made for very little headway. This gave ample time for two things.

• Worry, and,
• Regular review of the predicted weight.

Step by step; nod by nod; draw by draw the weight increased to around five pounds by the time the fish, now with line wrapped around it's anal fins for interests sake, was scooped-up.

Into the meadow and nestled in the deep uncut grass this was no five pounder.

"That's six, surely", I muttered to the passing butter and damselflies.

Six pounds?

Nope. Way out.

Seven, six.

A river and overall p.b. by a clear 2.12

----

Of  course nothing could top this, even removing the pike that constantly marauded the keepnet was well adrift in the enormity stakes.

Yes, that would do. That would do nicely.

Thank you world.

BLOGGERS' CHALLENGE 2017-18

  

 

Yes, it's back...and so is Russell (link below)

Starting, perfectly bisecting the close season, at 00.01hrs on May 1st the 2017-18 Bloggers' Challenge is on!!

The 2015-16 challenge proved a really enjoyable added dimension to the season. The prospect of chasing 19 species across three different venue types for three, or was it four?, virtual winners badges certainly kept me alert for the whole period (very unusual!); albeit I took it a bit too seriously in those last few weeks, imagined I had a fortnight yet to go, fell off the metaphorical precipice when Russell advised I was wrong and spent the next 6 weeks in an institution; but other than that it was a hoot.

For newcomers contemplating a go, first and foremost you don't need to author a blog, you simply need your blogging mate to publish pics of your catches and thereby verify that you are an honourable human being, thus underwriting the validity of your catch with the integrity of Lloyd's of London.

Otherwise it's straightforward...

● Russell will create access to the score sheet for you via Google Drive before May 1st.

● Get yourself a set of mini-lightweight kitchen scales from the supermarket for those otherwise unweighable fish, from gudgeon to bleak.

● Post a photo of your fish.

● Then add it to the score sheet and see your points magically appear (it's beyond me, but trust me it works!).

So what's the point of the points?
Well, the idea is your best fish of each species is given a score as a percentage of the 2015 record weight  and the spreadsheet keeps track of this across the (this time) 22 species and has 3 tabs - river/drain, stillwater and canal. You could gain an extra 10 points if your fish is the biggest of the species on that water type across all entrants

There are therefore four challenges in one with river, lake, canal and overall 'titles' to go at. You can pick and choose to suit your preferences or just go all-out for everything.

There are no prizes, no sponsorship deal, no Sky TV coverage and certainly no naughty ladies involved so it's a proper, honourable, truly amateur event in the old-fashioned sense...and great fun.

Last time James (link below) walked away with pretty much every category so the gauntlet is laid down for us all to change that as he has already registered to take part this time but more than that it's an opportunity to organise your season to make the most of it and target a few p.b's along the way.

Some excellent fish were taken last time including some of the smaller species and I cannot begin to estimate how many p.b's fell during the challenge but it was good number and included the above 4.9 eel from the Oxford Canal.

Please follow the link to Russell's new blog below where you can register by inputting your details to the contact widget on the left hand side to take part. He will enter everyone about a week before we commence in readiness.

https://russellhiltonfishing.blogspot.co.uk/

https://jamesthespecimenhunter.blogspot.co.uk/

Personally I cannot wait for it to start and running it each alternate year is ideal as annually would be a bit much. It's really nice to have the contrast of a relaxing year sandwiched between the year-long challenges. 

I do hope you can join us and wish you every success if you do!

Instant Autumn.

 
There's no way through!

  My annual claim that this week is peak canal angling time may be under threat. The temperature has taken a sudden dive, day and night, and the extended mild period abruptly ended by quite heavy frosts. 

 

 The forthcoming conditions were likely to be more of the same combined with unsettled weather including rain. 

 

 I walked our stretch of the river last weekend and recreated the half dozen or so swims that the -topography allows but the water was dark and clear such that I have written off the possibility of prospecting there for the present. 

 

 Last weekend the canals were already clearing with visibility generally between 9" and 15", dependent upon the stretch and it's capacity to retain some colour, as both falling boat traffic and temperatures take the sediment and  suspended life  from the water column. 

 

 While the water cleared however the surface could be supporting the cast-offs of the over-hanging arboreal accompaniment.



 It was to be hoped that the combined impact over the past few days would not affect the chances of fish too greatly. 
 

 ---- 

 

 SATURDAY:
2degC. Frost. North-westerly breeze. 

 

 Trudging the Grand Union towpath early this morning east of Braunston Tunnel the water looked a little clear but it was still quite dark and so I chose a sheltered peg away from the breeze. As the light levels increased however it became apparent that the near shelf was visible over two feet down.

The fish were frantic but tiny. The bait and float constantly jerked around but the majority were unhittable due to their size.

This soon became tiresome and another peg was sought but this produced nothing and I was soon forced to contemplate a change of venue altogether as the water became so strewn with fallen leaves - as though autumn was instant. 

 

 In the direction of home I passed a stretch of North Oxford Canal that in hindsight would have been more promising. I sat right next to the bridge in a particularly narrow peg with the intention of working my way out into the country.

By now it was 08.45 and boats could not have been long to hit the scene.

Five minutes later, the more coloured water here giving protection and confidence to fish, the float dipped and pulled away to the left underwater.

The moment I struck I knew we were into the target.

Unmistakable big roach. 

 

How big though? 

 

 The feeling of excitement at the initial view of a large roach in these waters is promulgated by the first greeness of the back and a certain orangey hue to the fins until they hit the surface and the silver and red become clear. This one was no different and it's size was immediately impressive.

Faffing with two much line out, it took rather too long to net the fish but it was well-hooked and when suspended under the scales it dragged them down to 22.5 ounces, or 1.6.8 in our usual language. 

 

 Another to slot into the top six for the campaign. 

 

 Nothing fishy followed but, on the return journey, whispering death. 
The Michael Holding of the bird world. 
The Sparrowhawk, this one a female, slalom-ing the hedge top and suddenly springing on an unsuspecting but, fortunately, quickly reactive magpie. Big bait for this predator but sufficiently elusive in this instance.

 

 ---- 

 

 

 

 Midweek the birding interest had been stop-off golden plover migrating through Warwickshire with a group of ever less frequent lapwings.

Always a welcome sight in spring and autumn. 

 

Max zoom is never a good thing without a dslr



  ---- 

 

 SUNDAY
Weather - more of the same. 

 

 The combined GUC and OXC would be the venue with its abundant raven presence and sparse fish population.

Somehow it felt colder. The nip on the fingers like getting fish fingers from the freezer and holding then just too long.

Selecting an area screened from the rising sun this clear morn it was never going to be easy.

It took some time for a fish to fight it's way through the incessant signal crayfish activity but eventually the float popped-up and a 10 ounce hybrid fought like only they can. 

 

 The hedges were full of tits, finches and thrush species but it wasn't enough to maintain the attention without further bites.


Soon pastures new were sought and I headed south to the Oxford Canal 'proper'.

This stretch I had never even walked before and a quick peek at an aerial view indicated little in the way of tree cover apart from the first 100 yards or so.

 

As (bad) luck would have it the chainsaw had clearly beaten me to it. The stark clean-cut limbs of ancient willow a hint at what might have been just a few days ago. 

 

I walked on (with hope in my heart!) and, after a good distance, came across a few bushes that shielded the otherwise exposed water from the uncurtained sun.

 

There was a worry I might have brought too much gear!

 

 

The water looked very turbid for the time of year and was at least a foot shallower than the roach peg of yesterday. Hopes were not great. 

A good while later a tentative lift among the occasional crayfish interest and a 14 ounce roach resulted and that was it for the canal fishing day.

 

A kestrel, using the breeze lifting it from the high hedge, drifted overhead, muscles relaxed, as I studied the water on the return and resolved that it would be time to return to this stretch (that reminded me of my very first solo visits to the canal in my teens, with pasture rolling down into the water) on a heavily clouded day.

 

 ----

 

Sitting in the driving seat texting news of an eventless morning thus far I got the call. Sunday dinner ingredients required.

 

Via lamb, cabbage, carrots and tatties the urge to have a few somewhat irrational moments on the Leam surfaced.

 

Irrational they certainly were. Never had I seen it so clear. The Leam almost always carries a hint of murk but all manner of debris could seen cast across the bed by the previous flood.

 

Constant twitches were provided by tiny fish, much as Saturday had started but the fish I sought were too bright to be caught-out at midday.

 

Last cast and the tip started gently wagging as if caught on a fine twig waving in the minimal flow and on lifting out - resistance. A green chub surfaced of around a pound. "A green chub?", I thought and started to take a closer interest in the bandit that had stolen my bread.

 

It was a pike barely worthy of the name 'Jack', more of a Jackie, as Jacks might be called as toddlers.

 

 

His teeth were no less worthy of his species however.

 

 ----

 

 So change is upon us. Things will be tricky for a while I suspect. As I write, it is minus one degree centigrade but prospects suggest no freezing nights ahead.

 

----

 

BIG CANAL ROACH CAMPAIGN 2015/16 TOP SIX:
 

1.15.5  GUC

1.9.11  NOXC

1.7.6    GUC

1.6.8    NOXC

1.4.10  GUC

1.4.6    GUC
 

16 over 1lb to date.

 

Signs of Impending Reward

So steady weather floating above freezing is upon us and some consistency in approach can be relied upon for the time being

Let's face it, this is always the most difficult time of year to put fish in the net but, at last, there is some hope

Last week The Boy Wonder and I found an only partly frozen stretch of the Grand Union Canal, complete with its own little car park, which, despite being a more coloured than would be perfect, did offer some encouragement. For his part, chopped worm was to be the option while bread would, as always, be deployed on the next peg. As a secondary option, and with a hint at what was set to come, sleeper rods offering roach heads or tails on single hooks were also cast to features to check-out the predator potential

Pretty much straight-off the worm produced a nice perch and soon after a decent hybrid to bread but angling wise that appeared to be that. We dabbled with some lures but nothing lead us to conclude this was an ideal day for them
 

It was prime cheddar feeding time, a known fact with an iced surface of course. I had this tidy bag on a roach head and was close to competing with TBW's pair of boxers from the cut a few weeks back. 'Not taken one on a dead bait before

Charlie though had a problem. A rabbit carcass was floating in the water a couple of metres from the bank and the little fella decided it must be lunch. No spring chicken but, as would be seen, a springing mutt he was and so he leapt, headlong into the freezing water. His elderly handler had some literal action to undertake, instantly kneeling and hoiking the canine miscreant from the surface with a shrill and tremulous, "Charlie!, Charlie!". In a flash, what now appeared to be a mobile pink chammy leather, was back on formerly dry land and coughing like a woodbine-smoking micro-pig

"I think he fancied a swim", someone quipped. There were only three of us.

"He's never done that before", she said...and he wouldn't be doing it again judging by that cough. He'd've been covered in ice by the time he got back, and so would she, having instinctively picked him up to carry him home.

Poor old Charlie. I wonder if he lived.

Next day it was predator time at The Stillwater. TBW was feeling under the weather and fell asleep as we left home, waking some two hours or so later having missed the excitement of the first run.

Four runs later and we were no closer to actually hooking anything than Stuart Brad and so we slipped-off home to contemplate the next piscatorial half-volley

What followed was something of a fishing-fest...type, thing

The Leam produced nothing other than an interesting discussion with Stalwart Club Member of thirty years' experience on the water and a take from a less than two pound pike that showed an unrealistic yet fleeting attraction to a four ounce roach deadbait but saw sense as well as daylight when his gape released the unsuspecting corpse into the cold air

The Avon - a single chub of three pounds three ounces

The Canal - nothing

The Avon, again - a single chub of a pound and a half, but wait, there was more to that trip...

Hon Gen Sec did not believe there were rats present but each time I stayed after dark there they, it, was, scuttling under the phragmites debris, the punctured footballs (the rusting bicycles), ballcocks and plastic lighters

"But what would they eat?", he questioned. Bread mash, that's what

This rat was the Louis Smith of the rodent world. No speck or blob of mash was beyond his reach and, with the inability to see his beholder in red-filtered light, he wasn't leaving any for the mammals formerly known as long-tailed field mice in his super-rat efforts to clamber up and down the reeds, from land or water, seeking out every freezing splash. He did get a touch over-familiar toward the end, but then, he was a rat after all


The Stillwater again. Early morning. Completely still water. Two hours to take the challenge score higher, if only a pike would have a nibble. -4degC on arrival. Zero on departure. Between times - a single run. This time connected and again the multi-purpose Avon admirably dealt with this pilferer of the mirrored surfaced as the water burst to foam

The pike squirmed as it sought freedom on the bank but in excellent chunky pre-spawning condition it turned the scales to 177 ounces, less the bag at fifteen, ten pounds two ounces of living excitement. At last twenty-odd points to show for the effort

This leaves just two more weeks to try the same trick on the river and add anything else possible before that particular meandering avenue of alders is chopped down in March to regenerate in June

Oh yes!...and finally - the lamp shade needs wiping, somebody

Ref:
Apologies to the Modfather himself

Disruption and Discontent or The Fish won't Feed 'cos the Weather doesn't Know What to do Next

It's been a tough year for the angler thus far...and sheep. Thankfully the latter, with their special feet and woolly coats, can cling-on through the worst of weathers

If it hasn't been gales, heavy rain and rising filthy rivers it's been frozen canals, lakes affected by fluctuating temperatures and excessive colour in the waters. Not the greatest of recipes

The decision had been made to seek to gain blogger's challenge points on rivers or seek-out pike where their seasons are limited until March and then revert to still-waters and canals but it has proven almost pointless, in both respects

 

Until just this last Tuesday six consecutive blanks on a wide variety of all three categories of venue and numerous methods had been fruitless since the last week of January. It feels longer. Most of the visits didn't produce even the merest hint of a bite and none of them saw fit to offer reward with any sport at all

Then on Thursday three bites all hooked and two nice chub of 3.6.0 and 3.4.0, with one  perhaps a touch larger lost at the rim of the net, were offered-up by the Upper Warks Avon and, at last, razor blades were not a consideration for the journey home

The better of the brace added a measly two points to the challenge tally but it was a pleasant event adding that couple to the chart having been so long away from it. I estimate that the past four point-scoring fish have added a sum total of around 6 to the aggregate. Not great.

The winter birdwatching has been okay while out there sitting by a range of waters, the highlight of this was a small flock of siskin feeding on weather damaged alder in the glorious and thermal-layer eschewing sunshine of last Sunday, together with close-up views of treecreeper and the, ever confiding, long-tailed tit flock, and of course it's always a pleasure to see the immaculate and continually diving goldeneye.

Kingfishers have been abundant and a brown hare brightened a cloudy lakeside stroll with lures, though he seemed uninterested in an imitation perch, perhaps a fake blade of grass may have been more to his liking

It's quite incredible when I think back through the tactics used in that spell that link-legered bread and lobworm, free-lined lobworm, cage feeder with groundbait and maggot/worm/caster hookbait, lures, deadbaits, etc., etc., have all failed when in different conditions all would produce the necessary goods.

The fish simply shut down.


Even these wouldn't work

The weather hasn't been all bad though. When the river fell, and at the same time it was suitably cold, fantastical glistening pendants of ice formed as the stiffening receding waters clung on to strands of vegetation bent like small spinning rods to the lowering surface; extensive sheets of magically thin ice were left floating in the air over the shallows and those natural, but rarely seen, phenomena formed in the riparian margins turned boredom to wonder

A glimpse of the chocolate merlin commuting through her wintering quarters in the valley of the stream was enough to bring confirmation that sometimes it's acceptable to think all is well in the real world. Well enough for now anyway, pending a turn in fortunes

A planned day off was looking perfectly timed until the rains returned today and by the time those clouds are drained the rivers will be rising again, the lakes will be coloured by cold water and the canals likewise.

What are we to do?

The Boy Wonder and I satisfy ourselves by working-out imaginary comedy situations. An evolving episode of which currently involves a tramp working as a barrista in Nero, or Costa, or Starbucks, or somewhere. Anyway it was funny to us, wherever it was staged. He even found a better way to get his groundbait out to the middle of the lake...

Things became so bad on Sunday that I sat with the dead-bait line metaphorically tied to my toe, Huckleberry Finn-style, when the incredible quantity of, mainly plastic, refuse settled in the debris left behind by the receded Avon became interesting. I actually found myself sifting through it to see what I could identify, until I heard a rat scuttling below the land-based raft and thought better of inviting Weil's Disease upon myself

The badger footprints in the deposited silt were good though, among the rat impressions - not ones I had trodden on, I do mean the footprints

Updates:

Mouse training -
Bubble still runs at the sight of anything that isn't known to her to be in her cage.
Squeak is now taking sunflower seeds from my fingers
...and I found out they can eat celery, which they love.

Blogger's Challenge -
Everyone is struggling in the Midlands and James just gets further and further in front with his ever-increasing dace, grayling, unicorn and other mythical beasts we can only dream of up here in Warwickshire. Next time I think it unquestionably necessary to handicap him like a champion race horse. I don't feel a weight disadvantage would help much though as he's probably fit enough to deal with that too. I'm leaning toward a straightforward ban, that should do it

Snow-caught Chub Challenge (commenced 2012/13) -
I have always loved seeing experts with their pictures of chub in the snow but it has not been until the past three or four years that I have tried it and, at last, in the most recent fall, it happened. Not huge at 2.6.0, and not the deepest snow cover, but welcome and an ambition achieved

WINTER CANAL BIG ROACH SEARCH (1)

Drama on the Cov Canal?

The conclusion has been reached that, for now, with the usual temptations of canal and small stream ahead until mid-march, the Blogger's Challenge can be intermixed with those delights and any incidental points scored along the way will be exactly that

The prospect of targeting specific species through that period will be difficult but hopefully some chub points, combined perhaps with roach and dace, might just come along and, in the right conditions, pike can hopefully be added too with nothing more than a micro-specimen to show for the season thus far

So, the past couple of weeks have involved a brief obsession with a certain stretch of canal which I visited with Jeff & Russell on Zedvember 54th when the change in weather overnight had been little short of horrific in angling terms - from an extended period of exceptionally mild autumn weather to a burst of cold rain then a strong frost and no prospect of reaching 4degC all day. Not the best of circumstances for Jeff and I to take up the 2lb canal roach challenge nor for Russell to have his first taste of big roach fishing on the Oxford. Needless to say that little sortie had nothing to commend it

The Zedvember fest itself however was most enjoyable with the Boy Wonder and I having a brief dabble and then a chinwag with those bloggers we'd not met before from far and wide in various shapes, sizes, accents and interests. All with a tale to tell, largely involving plenty of schoolboy humour of course!

 

While we were gathered Jeff's partner Judy arrived with words to the effect of, "Ooh. A bunch of fishermen. What do you call a collection of fishermen?" The only word I could muster in the circumstances was 'a blank' and, with no advances made, we stuck with it for the time being; albeit I'm not sure anyone actually did blank but it felt as though most of us had

B.W. and I had intended to stop to eat but the pub was so deceptively busy [the only person out front all afternoon had been Jeff (all afternoon) and yet the car park and the overflow at the back was packed] that we decided to leave it and tackle a bag or two of chips on the way back

The highlight of the day, apart from the obvious of course, was in running back to the car to get Russell's birthday card before he departed, misjudging the steepness of a grassy bank and falling headlong forward like some kind of poleaxed grandfather clock

Until, that is, on the way to the chip shop, many conversations later, this...

"I've got it", said The Boy, in mildy subdued exclamation, all matter of fact.

"What?"

"It's was a cast"

"What was a...? Oh yes! It's a cast. A cast of anglers. Now that is clever". The penny dropped and, yes, sure enough it was a cast of anglers, and some cast at that


Back to the plot from the cast:

The ensuing visits to the canaloid have been interesting, engaging and predictable in equal measure. That is about 1/3 of each

(Canaloid: A three-dimensional form with level top, rounded bottom, and indeterminate, often snaking, length).


A quick sojourn to the area that produced the biggest roach of recent weeks at 1.13.0 brought a few fish with a single specimen over a pound, coming in at 1.5.4 to be precise

Otter signs nearby suggested young ones to be present from the scat evidence but the entertainment of the day was a 'flick'(?) of 3 friendly moorhens (okay not as good as a cast, I'll grant you) which ran toward me at the prospect of bread and then retreated with equal gusto once they'd claimed a morsel each never to be seen again

Following this the first subsequent visit to the stretch alluded to earlier involved a couple of pegs being fished in the usual manner, bread down the middle and lobworm nearside, 10 yards to one side on the tip, producing two roach to 12 ounces on bread and not so much as even a sniff-let on worm

Peg two was a contrast.
No bites on bread but plenty on whole lobworms. A surprise chub, thought initially to be a rare carp, took a lob on the drop and tore-off along the far shelf, eventually being beaten and weighed-in at over three pounds. Soon after a smaller one was lost, which I didn't initially realise I had hooked, and then a real beast took possession of the hook and bait proceeding to surge from the swim eventually losing grip as I ventured to follow it along the towpath, an opportunity lost. Two perch on worm followed, up to 1.2.0

 

With no significant roach to show for that trip yet driven by some kind of disbelieving urge I was back at dawn the next day and mistakenly, as is usually the case with revisits, back to the chub peg which this time produced a couple of skimmers to 1.4.0 on bread and perch to 1.5.0 on worm. Moving to two other pegs again produced roach to just under the pound and numerous perch and small hybrids

The longer walk however brought into view even further pegs overhung a little by hawthorns and the like, plus some rushes and sweeping bends which were just too tempting to miss-out on and, it seemed, the odd topping fish too


So, Wednesday, there I was back again with a plan to work my way along those previously unseen
swims 25 yards or so at a time with bread only. If the fish are there we know they will fall to the magic bait within minutes and a twenty minute maximum was set unless a peg was consistently giving-up good fish of course

First swim opposite some hawthorns gave-up 2 roach to ten ounces

Second, on a bend with an ash tree overhead - 2 roach to 1.0.14 and a 3ounce hybrid

Third, again on the bend, but this time in the middle - 2 roach to 0.14.13

The 4th peg - I settled into but got boated-out before long and breakfast called with just two little perch in the net

This three-trip adventure told me enough about that stretch and it will be left well alone for some time now. Perhaps until I feel it is time to try to tackle some chub again


Over the subsequent few days the mild weather has returned with high winds and rain too. This has put far too much colour into the other more likely stretches of the Oxford nearby and so it may just be time to tackle the Leam again, perhaps with a few lobs into the more slack areas, which the postman kindly delivered out his capacious red bag this very day

Has Santa come early I ask myself?