THE STILLWATER - A MIDSUMMER UPDATE

Never entirely certain when the seasons end or begin it is with some risk that I entitle this piece as I do, but it feels right.

The Stillwater continues to piscatorially bamboozle me. Yes, the perch fishing had been a lifetime's best by quite some margin, approximately double the best other catch I can recall in weight per perchy capita in fact, but, as yet, the other fishes have tended to leave me alone quite nicely thank you. Obviously they think I am there for the tranquility and that it would be rude to disturb my peace too much. At all, in fact.

Recovering from a rather debilitating illness has seen me on the bank quite regularly, if dozily, these past few days, being ignored by the fish, and The Stillwater has set me to giving ever more consideration to birds, and especially the birds I am likely to encounter there.

The more advanced birders at the site have taken me rather into their world and now accept my record submissions with alacrity. Being immersed in the nature that appears magnetised to the place makes one realise what exactly one is missing by not fishing still waters of necessarily significant proportion.

On a personal level my birdwatching has been very much along the lines of my approach to angling over the years in that I have hardly ever knowingly 'twitched' a bird and the vast majority of the time have been, and remain, contented to compile a list of whatever species can be mustered from wherever I happen to be, or perhaps travelling to and from. In fact, very much like angling, it's the not knowing rather than the knowing that makes it engaging, enjoyable and rewarding in that very same order.

Since taking up residence at The Stillwater when the river season ended, it has been the birds rather than the fish that have engaged the most. Albeit a bite takes precedence over a passing bird in that moment, it cannot be denied! It doesn't begin and end there however for the attractions are many and varied. Butterflies still exist here unlike many of the places that used to have their flora spread with them not that many years ago. Dragon and damselflies abound and a good smattering of various mammals are more than possible, in fact likely, sightings too.

 

Southern hawker dragonfly at rest

Botanically I am generally totally stumped but there appears to be an interesting array of wild plants that, were I capable of pinning them down, would produce another even more extensive species list. The natural bottom line of course is that the botany dictates the invertebrates present and it is they in turn that dictate their consumers and so on it goes up that invisible line we used to call the food chain to top predators.

Like any former, but intrinsically since trapped, schoolboy it is the latter that seem the most appealing and cause the most excitement to the majority of us. Somehow they seem that bit more incredible with their extra, imagined, calculatingly cold-hearted dimension. Of course a kestrel catching a vole is no more unusual than a wren catching a spider from many different angles but the more advanced the prey the more impressive the captor appears to us.

This spring and summer I have had the sudden surprise of the noise made by the wings of a hobby pursuing sand martins in a strong breeze close overhead jolt me out of my slumber; the intermittent flap, flap, gliding of the osprey down the centre of the lake seeking those big roach I have never yet connected with; the floating giant moth-like foraging of the barn owl before my very eyes in daylight and the pursuit of all manner of small passerines by the sparrowhawk. Yet the most fascinating thing, the all consuming subject, is the wider picture. The whole wondrous ecological spectacle. It too I am happy to be bamboozled by.

 

Hobby silhouette

The all but inaudible high pitched squeaking of common shrews chasing in and out of rushes growing from the rocky bank.

The clouds of common blue damselflies flushed out of the grasses with every step after their daily emergence as marching armies of nymphs exiting the water for any promontory, however little it may rise above the water, there to transmogrify from little green alien larva to beautiful, here bountiful, imago.

 

 

 

The rudd, sucking sedge flies from the surface between phragmites stems with an audile slurp and the remant thick oily bubbles left long-term in the surface film.

The raucous barking of the muntjac from deep cover at dusk and the replies from distant cousins.

 

 

The frantically fluttering Small Skipper in search of a food plant for egg-laying.

The inquisitiveness of the sedge warbler, creeping ever closer through the reeds to check-out the large unnaturally dressed mammal examining it in return.

The creaking sound of the pond snails emerging through marginal water plant debris at dusk as they suck and blow at the surface.

All of these and more can and will keep me amused, quite literally, for a lifetime.

No fish? No problem!

Tench. Time.

Time is a strange concept i'n'it?

My whole angling life has been driven by relatively short sessions on a variety of venues, but groups of venues that have come in fads over the years. Warks Avon & Trent; The East Midlands/Anglian rivers and Lakes; Thames; South Midlands Canals; West Midlands canals and, now, various appealling waterbodies and courses of the Feldon landscape.

The earliest visits were often quite long by my more recent standards, perhaps eight hours or more. Then as club fishing kicked-in with the, then, Rugby Midland Red bus co. angling club, they reduced to 5 or 6 hours and, as time passed through open matches on canals in the East and then West Midlands to the past three seasons of increasingly short sessions around dawn and dusk, they went to four, three, two hours, sometimes even less...and rarely the same peg fished twice.

So the past month has seen a massive change of outlook and direction since the river season ended.

 I am now around 40 hours into what I hope to be a real, not fantasy, tench campaign without even so much as a nibble to show for it. Not consecutive hours I might add, but 40 hours' fishing the same peg in bursts often preceded by baiting visits the night or morning before.

They've been rolling and laughing at me, and the pike have been avid munchers of the inanimate as I've wound back in various contraptions of bait placement but not a proper bite to show for it

Metal crunching, feeder munching Automaton

When I first stepped-off the river bank onto The Stillwater the water immediately seemed quite 'warm' to the touch in comparison but I now realise that it had been heated by the sun in a manner impossible for a shaded, narrow, winding, deep stream and, in fact, to its inhabitants it was still inconducive to much feeding activity.

Now though, a month later, the water temperature is approaching that level at which it starts to be similar to hand temperature and, were it not at the same time wet, it would be undetectable

Comforted by the fact that others are not lowering the water levels by removing myriad tincas I have become, on the face of it, bizarrely content to watch motionless tips

Superficial this situation certainly is however as what this outwardly tedious, if not pointless, exercise has rekindled is my passion for birds. Having been a birdwatcher for as many years as an angler I have hopped-off the ornithological perch in the past decade, largely due to work and the boys' cricket commitments but, since the end of the so-termed noughties, also by an earlier resurrection of angling interest of course.

Here though, at The Stillwater, I have a specific view from the peg combined with the walk back and forth, and suddenly the local recorder finds himself inundated with sightings. Largely common or garden, yes, but the odd flashback to birds not seen or enjoyed for so long together with the returning migrants...and bats

Highlights thus far have been green sandpiper, the returning chiffchaff, then first willow and sedge warblers of 2015 for the location and flocks of twittering sand and, eventually, house martins interspersed by swallows, as well as departing goldeneye, regular barn owl foraging activity and then more arriving warblers such as whitethroat

Chiffchaff

Wednesday I was also able to wend my laden way back to the car park listening to the 'slapping' of common pipistrelles, the 'chip shop, chip shop' of Noctules, our biggest common bat at 16" wingspan (no, that's not a typo!), and the Geiger-counter-esque Daubenton's bat...that hovercraft of the natural world...as they fed freely over the water, margins, carr and treetops. Their calls interspersed by the raspberry-like 'thrrrrripp' of the feeding buzz on contact with tiny and not so tiny prey

The, close to, two days of wider natural study has rekindled this naturalist and I am sure my friends and colleagues are sick of me ranting about observations but sometimes it just has to be shared to extract true value. I know I've seen it, but sharing it and making use of it in the written record adds an extra dimension that's been missing for so much time.

Buzzard and mobbers

Yes, tench time has its benefits, even when they are not quite ready...yet

----

Mouse training update:

'Big set-back when Monica went stiff and had to be ejected as she was becoming food for Potty. Well, it's just life (and death) in the FF&F study

Subsequently Potty became less trusting but, only tonight, a breakthrough that took us back in time and fast-forward simultaneously to the point at which she clumb (that word has a wiggly red line under it, I wonder why?) completely onto my hand for a black sunflower heart...irresistable to Pot-Pot are those

So we're back on course and I'll be able to imagine taking her to school in my pocket again soon

----

Bloggers challenge diary:

Only 7.5 more sleeps to the starting cast

Still time to book-on at:
http://canalangler.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/blogger-challenge-who-in.html
and if you struggle with the link feel free to comment on this post accordingly and I'll happily let Russell and Jeff know

OF SUNRISES, AND BOYHOOD ADVENTURES RECALLED

The weekend enabled some fishing, some water meadow wanderings and, armed with new otter sign knowledge, some general naturey meanderings were undertaken in an area not seen since I was at school largely at the upper end of the Warwickshire Avon and its crossing of watery paths with the North Oxford Canal

First thing Saturday saw the usual roachy shenanigans on the cut. Cut it was, but accompanied by the word 'short' as 60 walkers and 12 narrowboats, each one associated with a Rugby Union Premiership Club, headed off from Rugby to Twickenham in aid of the Matt Hampson Trust. The leader-off was a gentleman, and a former canal match angler, who broke his back seven years ago and was attempting the route on crutches for the fourth time, and sometimes we are inclined to complain about our lot. Complain, about the boats and otherwise considered disturbance, I did not; for once I was humbled by the sight and bid them good day and good luck as I parted with the only two shiny coins deep inside many-layered clothing and slowly packed my gear away in awe of the effort these people were putting in for a worthy cause

The catch had been good in any event, albeit a couple of solid fish were bumped on the strike for no apparent or logical reason later on. The roach fed well from the moment the rig hit the water as seems to be the case at present with the water not noticeably cold when mashing the bread to pursue the method described in the previous post. Indeed they came thick and fast before bream moved in on the heavy feed. The best roach (pictured above) went 1-3-5 and sits safely in 10th place on the all time canal list



The Saturday Catch. 5 roach to 1-3-5 and 3 bronze bream to 2-6-0

An event I hadn't witnessed on a canal for many years unfolded before my eyes and, initially, ears when I heard a definite 'plop' to the right and looked round to see an orange fluttering as a kingfisher emerged from the water with its, or its kids', breakfast, which was duly beaten into submission on a branch. The extravagantly coloured bird which, when flying from twig to stem, in the hunt for fry has that bumble bee-like impossible design aesthetic converts into a jet propelled blue missile when commuting more urgently around it's territory. The roach almost seemed as nothing by comparison to this little wonder of the waterway

Later in the day The Lady Burton had an appointment; The Dog was batting no.5 for the local town club so Parps and I headed off for, in one case, some nostalgia and, in the other, a new adventure

We started on the canal and found evidence of otter having passed through under the very first bridge. I, we, found it incredible that this large elusive mammal could possibly live in such a busy place, but they do and, while I had expected to find such evidence by the river the canal was hardly the first spot I would have looked  

Some good looking pegs were passed in an area I had only once before fished in the Rugby Schools Championship back in the mid-late 1970's, when ounces were the order of the day(s)

Then we decided to follow the river, first downstream, then up. I remembered a few of the features of the landscape but naturally it had changed in the ensuing 35 years. There is no direct link for fish through the area of the river with the downstream section cut-off from the upstream by outfalls, overspills and concrete, not to mention a fine collection of aquatic Tesco trolleys and discarded bikes.

Some bread pellets thrown into some pacey, dark, and therefore deeper, water soon had chub of around eight to twelve ounces pouncing from the depths and further upstream beneath a weir a few roach were to be seen with a least one worth fishing for

Soon we abandoned this man-made riverine route and headed for the natural streamy river further up-flow where the most beauteous water meadows still exist and remain just as I remembered them from my youth.

So variable is a river at this stage of it's life. First fast-flowing through channels in phragmites beds, colonised by reed and sedge warblers as they vie for the loudest most repetitively incessant song, then slowing to the standstill of wide, deep bends inhabited by shoals of deeply-coloured roach which top with abandon mid-day in hot spring sunshine as if to celebrate the quite wondrous habitat the are fortunate enough to treat as their own

 

Top - reed warbler, softly plumaged and with an eye-stripe stopping at the eye
Bottom - sedge warbler, more bold wing striations, with a complete and deep eye-stripe

We knelt in the emerging lushness of bank side herbage, with the rich smell of crushed leaves coursing through the nostrils, and came to regret the absence of a picnic now that we had wandered so far

A few discs of best bread were compressed and flicked into the stream under a hawthorn. Roach chased and harried for the treasure until, each time, the white speck suddenly was gone, the view enhanced by Polaroid lenses, and then, from the dark water below, a chub burst through the roach and in a tight arc took the bread and was gone in a instant. All it left, the memory of the flashing flank of this one golden pirate

We followed the course downstream for few yards, past nesting moorhens and more sedge warblers disputing territory, for soon the rushes would be high enough to nest and by that time the need to argue would be better ignored with energy directed to the necessity to procreate in a world so fragile

On a winding section of river an eight inch wide surge of small bubbles commenced at the far bank and progressed downstream with some speed, mid-stream. We both knew this could only mean one thing - the mammal that had eluded us in England for so long was before us, we just had to be still and wait for it to surface. 20, 30, 40m the bubbles continued, ducklings scattered in panic and the perpetrator suddenly burst from the water in a flurry of wing beats, warning quacking and spray. A female mallard had to advise her young, urgently, that we were about to catch and eat them...and so the otter can wait until another day!

Somewhat embarrassed at expecting the unlikely and being proven wrong we offered some more bread to roach in a deep pool on a tightening bend and they accepted without question. We suspected a pellet of bread punch from a slice would have these little chaps beyond redemption come June 16th

In about 1975 The Old Duffer and I came to this very river to find it bright red with roof tile dye from a factory upstream. Fish sought refuge out of the water, so painful was it for them to withstand the effects. We could not rescue them all but raised the alarm and managed to get to a two pound chub which took up residence in our bath for a day or two while we pondered its fate. Given the Avon was likely going to be poisoned for some time into the future we introduced it to the Swift, a small tributary, upstream of their confluence some mile or two downstream of its rescue. An admittedly futile gesture but it made us feel as though we had done our bit

As we traipsed back through the finely preserved, and somewhat literally breathtaking, ridge and furrow to the path a young ginger-backed rabbit proved very confiding; basing it's survival on the old human baby theory 'If I cover my eyes they can't see me', or, in this case, it hid behind a blade of grass and we, being expert spotters, saw through it!

The day was one of discovery or, in my case, rediscovery and no lack of emotion and plain old sentimentality to see this landscape very much untouched since my youth and simply bursting with such a biodiverse community of animals.To think that all of England must have been of this natural quality once though even more species-rich, until the water companies straightened it out, no doubt

The first hooked fish of the morning comes to the top against a backdrop of sunrise

This morning started much as the last one but an absence of good roach did not go unnoticed. They seem to be in tighter areas now and the bream and hybrids are beating them to the feast when they are dominant in number

A hybrid with spawning time tubercles on it's head is gently replaced in the water 

Apart from a fascinating internal debate over blackcap and garden warbler song, I think I had both during the morning, the highlight was an old three pounds five ounce love-scarred bream with its sides and chin scratched and bleeding. Otherwise hard-fighting hybrids again proved the attraction together with an interesting bird list which kept me amused for the duration of the three hour session that commenced just after 5am

Next weekend sees us off for our annual spring Highlands trip and based on it being half as good as last year, I cannot wait

Species list for weekend:
Mallard, moorhen, wren, blackbird, carrion crow, chaffinch, woodpigeon, collared dove, swallow, swift (they're back!), kestrel, buzzard, goldfinch, dunnock, kingfisher, skylark, goldcrest, great tit, magpie, blue tit, lapwing, jackdaw, whitethroat, blackcap, willow warbler, reed bunting, pheasant, pied wagtail, jay, reed warbler, sedge warbler, chiffchaff.
Rabbit, grey squirrel, brown rat.
Roach, bronze bream, roachXbream hybrid.
Orange-tip, small white, speckled wood

Fight or Flight, stillwater distractions

 After three consecutive canal blanks on pegs with potential at least to throw-up big roach it is time for a change


You can see the bottom from here!



Last Sunday there were big roach topping immediately to The Old Duffer's left for the first hour and smaller ones near me but I went biteless and he mustered just two bites on maggot for one 10oz perch. I would go as far as to say I have never (or perhaps 'rarely') seen so many big roach showing early in the morning on a canal and yet they clearly weren't in the slightest bit interested in whatever we might've offered them as a distraction, unless the shoal was tightly packed. Admittedly it was very frosty, the car said 0degC on the way at 5.30am, but nevertheless those fish were very active. Other than the above I can only put it down to a spawning preoccupation given the time of year albeit I have continued to purposely avoid bites from blank-busting roach of less than about 10ozs by sticking to big pieces of flake

Apart from spending more time trawling through the old records to schedule big roach for future reference and comparison I have also been planning some stillwater trips which has helped to narrow-down the options by revisiting those I fished previously and took roach over a pound from, sometimes in reasonable numbers it seems, but, again, although this may have been successful to a degree, in a match-orientated kind of way, I was then still intent on catching whatever bit rather than narrowing it down to a smaller number of better fish. This process has reminded me that I had taken decent fish from at least four of the more natural stillwaters within the scope of my search, none of which were, nor are, 'commercials'. A few questions asked show at least two of them to be day ticket, which is good, and another is now a non-carp-orientated syndicate (with a waiting list)...I smiled nicely (difficult), explained that I used to fish there as a kid (true), said what a nice boy I was (hmmm) and now await a call...but am not holding my breath!

That these venues hold the potential for tench, bream, rudd and crucians as well, in varying degrees, adds to the new found allure conjured by memories drawn from the cardboard vault and some corresponding photographs

The fact I can take Parps to share a swim more easily and have the undoubted pleasure of enduring his incessant drivel also has a certain attraction and hopefully he might even catch the odd one in between words on the occasion he actually draws breath

Armed with this somewhat over-egged enthusiasm I headed-off in the frost on Saturday morning to a usually clear water which I hoped would have benefitted from some added colour from the week's afternoon rains...not so. Anyway, casters at the ready and a new reel to christen - thank you God for eBay - I persevered from 6.30 for four solid biteless hours of attempted roach fishing which turned into a brilliant birdwatching session as the realisation dawned that I wasn't there to catch anything! I sat for the second two hours with my binoculars permanently around my neck and alternated firing casters four to five rods out with viewing the avian action

A migratory common sandpiper was most confiding, coming to less than 20yds away for his portrait, as did a goldfinch collecting nesting material from the path behind me together with a similarly occupied grey wagtail, which eluded the too-slowly poised compact



Common sandpiper



Nesting goldfinch

Nesting birds were all around the phragmites & bulrush surrounded waters. At least four pairs of constantly conflicting coots, two pairs of mute swan a least one of which had eggs, two pairs of canada geese and the graceful pre-breeding ritual of great crested grebe together with skylark, willow and reed warbler song filling the chilly morning atmosphere with the passion of Spring




Two pairs of battling coots



Great crested grebes' courtship ritual

30 species were listed including all three hirundines, but amazingly not a single gull or tern, and it reminded me of the bonuses of fishing lakes rather than the limited potential of canals with their constrained linear marginal habitat. (I had the genuine pleasure in midweek of watching a pen swan raising her nest by 6" as protection from the swelling Avon carrying much welcomed floodwater around the raft she and the cob had carefully and painstakingly created on a mid-river small island)

So, as these musings run in danger of turning into something of a rambling epic, the irritation at failing to tempt a single individual of last week's shoal of quality topping roach on the cut to investigate my bait with abandon became more intense - an itch increasingly in need of scratching seven days later - as an immediate contrast interrupting the stillwater spell...already

[Sedge warbler, Willow warbler, Chiffchaff, Common sandpiper, Dabchick, Great crested grebe, Coot, Moorhen, Canada goose, Mute swan, Tufted duck, Grey wagtail, Swallow, Blackbird, Chaffinch, Carrion crow, Rook, Wren, Mallard, Reed bunting, House martin, Skylark, Raven, Starling, Pheasant, Goldfinch, Sand martin, Great spotted woodpecker, Buzzard]