Taking Parps, the littl'un, fishing recently set me thinking about fishing trips when I younger
My earliest recollection is of going to Frankton Pools with The Old Duffer, or Relatively Young Duffer as he would've been then (had I thought of it), and asking if I could have a go for the first time
He cut me an ash pole from the hedge at the roadside and tied some line to it with a small float and a hook to nylon (I have always recalled this as string and a bent pin but I think this is simply wishful romanticism on my part!). I caught 6 gudgeon...that bit I am sure of...and I was ______ (please fill your own word in here as I can't bring myself to say it!)
The venue comprised two stream-fed ancient pools, some 200 years old, with a dam at the top of a steep wooded bank holding it all back. On one side was the lane and on the other pasture fell into the water at the end of the dam, while trees with pegs between completed the remainder of the scene at the shallow end, I use the word 'shallow' somewhat reservedly as the depth in the middle of the dam was not great. In fact were it not for the quite incredibly deep silt contemporary man could probably have walked across without getting his ear-rings wet
The larger pool featured quite regularly in my early life and remains the only place I ever caught any crucian carp, except for a flukey one on caster during an evening match on the Oxford Canal at Rugby twenty or thirty years later (or more). They all seemed to be the same size and apparently stunted as the water was shallow and they must've been pectoral to pectoral in there. It silted-up year on year and the old stone dam wall always looked as though it could slip down the slope into the spinney at any moment. It was one of those places where the build-up of silt and rotting organic matter was such that the slightest disturbance of the mud would release the most pungent smell into the air which would then linger if you were near it and then follow you home on your wellies as a reminder
There was an occasion when a guy had left his rod leaning against the wall while he wandered off and while he was gone it was towed-in by a fish! He couldn't figure out what had happened when he returned but I'm fairly certain the fish was even less chuffed about the event than he was. A lesson learnt for me at a tender age, and one ignored by him
One of the most entertaining moments was alway when the farmer came round to take money for day tickets. The Old Duffer rarely shirked an opportunity to wind him up and on one occasion claimed he had seen an otter there early in the morning, and then sat creased on his box as the unfortunate stout rosy-faced chap announced it to all-comers as he did his rounds. Otters were locally non-existent in those days. Amusement travels far across water!
Later, when I got interested in wider ecology, it was one of the first places I went to see, listen to and record daubenton's bats, and share the pleasure with The Dog when he was about 7 or 8 years old. That was until a tawny owl hooted and we had to beat a hasty retreat to the 'safety' of the car! Watching the bats' mysterious shapes scooting around above the water's surface like little dark scalextric machines on invisible tracks with tight bends, or snitches in quidditch, against the moonlit water was incredible and the reason I went there for this was that I remembered them from my times fishing there as a kid late into the evening. We had Observer's Books to learn from in those days and the inspirational images of bats in the wild animals volume engaged me sufficiently to appreciate bats and this species even back then. The bat thing has since got out of hand however and takes up many hours with detectors and all manner of other equipment in spring and summer evenings
At a time when I was setting out fishing open matches and team competitions I came across the need for bloodworm on hard venues, mainly in winter leagues in the south midlands. Having gleaned info on how to 'scrape' for bloodworm from various publications the first place I tried, having made the requisite scraper from a broom handle and a suitable blade, was the small pool at Frankton but, as with everywhere else I tried, the bed was littered with leaves and branches and one or two small worms per sweep was about the best I could manage, unlike the photographs I had seen with hundreds of worms in a continuous splodge wrapped along the edge of the blade. It seemed that all of the ponds I could think of shallow enough and silty enough to scrape were surrounded by trees!
The crucians in the larger pool were the first fish I ever caught on bread and it resulted in, first, Fine Lady, when I could get it, or Mother's Pride, and now Warburton's, being propped-up by my bait bill. They were such shy-biting fish but a few minutes after baiting with white ground-bait a few of them would succrumb (sorry, couldn't resist) and give a hard-fighting account of themselves on the old Sigma Canal rod and Shakespeare Match International closed-face reel...a warm glow descends
In fact my extensive note books show that on 31st July 1978, then aged 15, I fished the near end of the dam wall of the larger pool with bread under a '4 dust Ultra dart' (remember those?, a brass-loaded, self-cocking, straight balsa canal float) and white crumb taking 8 crucians for 2.7.8 so their average size was not exceptional! The Old Duffer had 16 of them for 6.14.0. A day ticket was just 60p and the weather apparently was cool, rainy and windy, much like this July
So, to complete the circle, I went for a drive down there the other evening in the knowledge that when the associated farm changed hands a few years ago the ponds would have done so too. This would have been my first visit since the bat watching episode circa 10-12 years ago and it certainly had changed! The whole is now fenced as a deer enclosure and the dam wall is now quite over-grown but the two pools are still intact albeit as the home of a herd of black fallow deer. The path across the dam still leans way from the water at an alarming angle and gives the impression that one might slip down the bank into the dark wood ('went into Noddy mode there for a moment. I wonder if Sly lives in there?) at any time, especially if wet!
Nevertheless, enquiries might well now be made
Monday, 29 October 2012
Wednesday, 24 October 2012
Gobio gobio, wherefore art thou Gobio?
 |
It was a significant sign that maybe the zander in the North Oxford Canal are reaching a more natural level in balance with the other species previously present
 |
| Even these guys were interested, admittedly in spiders rather than fish |
It is, as they say, 'a known fact' that gudgeon are the first victims of Team Predator when it first gangs-up on its prey in a newly pioneered waterway
Up to about 1995 it was possible to catch a few gudgeon in a session, in the days before big fish seriously influenced the angler's thinking. Often ten or fifteen little squeakers could be taken and sometimes as many as fifty, very occasionally even more, though they were never so numerous as on the Oxford Canal proper from Banbury south nor in canals such as the Staffs/Worcs or Birmingham/Worcs where hundreds could be caught in matches, and maybe still can. Soon after though they were gone and the dubious pleasure of them puking bread crumb on your trousers with them
 |
| The float wouldn't sit still once the crayfish found the bread to their liking |
So that was the good news, as for the crays, well - they're just criminal
A Debate 'Otter than Ever
After a bit of a discussion over concern about recolonising otters (not to mention signal crayfish and spurious zander catches!) this weekend
(see Daniel Everitt's blogpost http://thelureofangling.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/am-i-ready-to-believe.html)
it has been a subject at the forefront of my mind. However, having been out of the angling loop for so many years until early 2011, I am always in danger of stating the obvious without realising that someone has said it before, probably yesterday (or, worse still, several years ago!), but there has been something nagging at me which needs airing, at the very least to satisfy my curiosity
A number of british record rod-caught freshwater species sizes are now far in excess of weights one might have anticipated 20 years ago. I note that record barbel, bronze bream, carp, chub, tench, zander, etc., are now unrecognisable from those I remember and close-on 20 of the current records have been set since the dawn of the current millennium, but why, it's not as though angling has only just been invented is it?
This must have been discussed in the angling press in the past but of course I am oblivious to this and strangely a good amount of research has not uncovered any clues; having said that, if I had read anything from those quarters I wouldn't know whether to believe it, so sensationalist is that sector of the sport. This could imply that it was discussed so long ago that the information has not found it's way onto the web because it's widely known or that it really hasn't been touched on in any detail (unlikely)
Two immediately obvious potential causes spring to mind and would probably spring to anyone's whether they had been away from the sport for so long or not...but then you'll tell me this is common knowledge/claptrap so at least I'll be clear on that!
The first is to question whether breeding for introduction to commercial fisheries is sufficiently far 'advanced' that some species of fish can be bred to grow bigger? I am sure this must be possible but why this would be of interest to anyone other than someone on some kind of simple misplaced glory-hunt is beyond me
The second thought I had is that certain, probably artificial, baits might serve to increase fish weight like a sort of Chubway fishy fast-food overdose, or but this might be more readily applied to stillwater fish which would more likely rely on such a food source if angler's bait is all-but the only option available to them and a tendency toward unnaturally increased size would soon then become a self-fulfilling prophesy once they reach proportions which would be unsustainable without anglers' bait, that or they die anyway...or fail to put on further weight. Carp would be a typical example of this, were it true, as many of the larger fish I see photographed seem to have disproportionately large distended bellies perhaps blatantly belying a trait of this nature. So, on over-stocked new 'commercial' fisheries which have been fished heavily since their first opening and before natural food levels reached anything like their full potential, and never could, this seems perfectly logical. That other matter of the pointlessness of fishing such venues is surely therefore self-evident and there are other moral issues here which there isn't time to cover nor would I want you to nod off, yet. I digress, a touch, but some of the photographs I have seen of outsize carp clearly display these traits with the increased weight fairly obviously largely attributable to their increased bellies. Conversely some of the fish I have recently seen photographs, displayed in blogs I follow, of smaller carp with a more 'wild' profile appear a much more desirable and laudable target with some attributable natural beauty
Am I wrong or am I simply missing something here?
The above could also apply to stillwater bream and tench but as for river fish, such as chub, what explains their sudden increased size? Are they really so consistently fished for on rivers that such a reason could apply here too? It seems unlikely
Is it possible that the otter is to blame for this too?!
If we could cast our imaginations back to when otters were widespread, many of us will struggle as their steep decline occurred in the 1950's (when habitats were being trashed by tidying-up of water courses, pollution, etc.), they would undoubtedly have been a significant predator of fish over a pound and possibly the main one. I am not sure how significant their impact extends to the subsequent proliferation of stillwaters but if we were to extend this thought a little it would not be beyond possibility that the presence of otters might have controlled the maximum size of river fish before they became legally protected in England in 1979 and found themselves 'near threatened' of global extinction according to the IUCN red list
If river fish sizes have been able to grow with less predator control, other than the constraints of species preying on smaller fish and the latters maximum lifespan, as they have in the recent past, is it inconceivable that the past two decades may prove to be some kind of historical peak, when we look back in future, now that otters are back (in Warwickshire)?
An otter needs to eat around 5lbs of food per day, they are big mammals, with a male holding an extensive territory of up to around 25 miles of water, and not necessarily a single watercourse, with maybe a couple of females and, from time to time, perhaps half a dozen young within that same territory. It is therefore possible that if otters are eating fish of all sizes they would probably find it easier to catch bigger sluggish ones than lively young ones, it is also a more profitable prey. So if they do this they can, by default, control the maximum fish size in a river by thinning out the bigger ones and leaving less of them to grow to record breaking proportions. The chances of a record fish are reduced and, by implication of the above, the average size of those regarded as specimens will be lower too
Thinking chub here in the main, I have referred to Tony Miles book 'The Complete Specimen Hunter' before and what is interesting in this context is that the implication of his writing in 1989 is that a 4lb-plus chub is a good size and anything over 5lb a genuine specimen, perhaps comparable with a roach of well over 2lbs, but in 2012 a four pounder hardly warrants a mention and it is clear that many bloggers are looking for at least six pound plus fish to light their respective candles. Not only this but the number of these bigger fish being caught is quite staggering, indeed 12 of the top 20 of the Chub Study Group list have been captured since 2000
Maybe specimen angling on more natural/naturalised waters has experienced an halcyon period without the participants realising it and the otter will now bring that back to a level of normality. We may even need a new record list like sort of 'drug enhanced' and 'clean' athletics world record lists!
Anyway all that is just a theory without much substance other than a bit of common logic but it seems plausible don't you think? My only 'concern' about this, coming at it now as a selfish angler, and whether the above is true or not, we may see otters become slightly more common than their territories can realistically support longer-term for a short period at which point it is likely that fish and other prey species will be over-plundered until the predator experiences 'die-off' to a level of natural equilibrium, a phenomenon known by ecologists as 'overshoot' of the 'carrying capacity' of the habitat. This could be brief but in an animal with such a large individual range one might perhaps assume it could take sometime now that I am lead to believe local rivers are at carrying capacity of male otters
References:
The Complete Specimen Hunter, Tony Miles (Crowood), 1989
www.carryingcapacity.com
The Angling Trust website
Chub Study Group List of Top 50 Chub
IUCN red list
 |
| I only had a photo of a scottish otter and knew you would tell the difference |
(see Daniel Everitt's blogpost http://thelureofangling.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/am-i-ready-to-believe.html)
it has been a subject at the forefront of my mind. However, having been out of the angling loop for so many years until early 2011, I am always in danger of stating the obvious without realising that someone has said it before, probably yesterday (or, worse still, several years ago!), but there has been something nagging at me which needs airing, at the very least to satisfy my curiosity
A number of british record rod-caught freshwater species sizes are now far in excess of weights one might have anticipated 20 years ago. I note that record barbel, bronze bream, carp, chub, tench, zander, etc., are now unrecognisable from those I remember and close-on 20 of the current records have been set since the dawn of the current millennium, but why, it's not as though angling has only just been invented is it?
This must have been discussed in the angling press in the past but of course I am oblivious to this and strangely a good amount of research has not uncovered any clues; having said that, if I had read anything from those quarters I wouldn't know whether to believe it, so sensationalist is that sector of the sport. This could imply that it was discussed so long ago that the information has not found it's way onto the web because it's widely known or that it really hasn't been touched on in any detail (unlikely)
Two immediately obvious potential causes spring to mind and would probably spring to anyone's whether they had been away from the sport for so long or not...but then you'll tell me this is common knowledge/claptrap so at least I'll be clear on that!
The first is to question whether breeding for introduction to commercial fisheries is sufficiently far 'advanced' that some species of fish can be bred to grow bigger? I am sure this must be possible but why this would be of interest to anyone other than someone on some kind of simple misplaced glory-hunt is beyond me
 |
| Fast food for fish. The new logo |
The second thought I had is that certain, probably artificial, baits might serve to increase fish weight like a sort of Chubway fishy fast-food overdose, or but this might be more readily applied to stillwater fish which would more likely rely on such a food source if angler's bait is all-but the only option available to them and a tendency toward unnaturally increased size would soon then become a self-fulfilling prophesy once they reach proportions which would be unsustainable without anglers' bait, that or they die anyway...or fail to put on further weight. Carp would be a typical example of this, were it true, as many of the larger fish I see photographed seem to have disproportionately large distended bellies perhaps blatantly belying a trait of this nature. So, on over-stocked new 'commercial' fisheries which have been fished heavily since their first opening and before natural food levels reached anything like their full potential, and never could, this seems perfectly logical. That other matter of the pointlessness of fishing such venues is surely therefore self-evident and there are other moral issues here which there isn't time to cover nor would I want you to nod off, yet. I digress, a touch, but some of the photographs I have seen of outsize carp clearly display these traits with the increased weight fairly obviously largely attributable to their increased bellies. Conversely some of the fish I have recently seen photographs, displayed in blogs I follow, of smaller carp with a more 'wild' profile appear a much more desirable and laudable target with some attributable natural beauty
Am I wrong or am I simply missing something here?
The above could also apply to stillwater bream and tench but as for river fish, such as chub, what explains their sudden increased size? Are they really so consistently fished for on rivers that such a reason could apply here too? It seems unlikely
Is it possible that the otter is to blame for this too?!
If we could cast our imaginations back to when otters were widespread, many of us will struggle as their steep decline occurred in the 1950's (when habitats were being trashed by tidying-up of water courses, pollution, etc.), they would undoubtedly have been a significant predator of fish over a pound and possibly the main one. I am not sure how significant their impact extends to the subsequent proliferation of stillwaters but if we were to extend this thought a little it would not be beyond possibility that the presence of otters might have controlled the maximum size of river fish before they became legally protected in England in 1979 and found themselves 'near threatened' of global extinction according to the IUCN red list
If river fish sizes have been able to grow with less predator control, other than the constraints of species preying on smaller fish and the latters maximum lifespan, as they have in the recent past, is it inconceivable that the past two decades may prove to be some kind of historical peak, when we look back in future, now that otters are back (in Warwickshire)?
An otter needs to eat around 5lbs of food per day, they are big mammals, with a male holding an extensive territory of up to around 25 miles of water, and not necessarily a single watercourse, with maybe a couple of females and, from time to time, perhaps half a dozen young within that same territory. It is therefore possible that if otters are eating fish of all sizes they would probably find it easier to catch bigger sluggish ones than lively young ones, it is also a more profitable prey. So if they do this they can, by default, control the maximum fish size in a river by thinning out the bigger ones and leaving less of them to grow to record breaking proportions. The chances of a record fish are reduced and, by implication of the above, the average size of those regarded as specimens will be lower too
 |
| Tony Miles' 1989 publication with the author holding a predator large enough to take a pound chub |
Thinking chub here in the main, I have referred to Tony Miles book 'The Complete Specimen Hunter' before and what is interesting in this context is that the implication of his writing in 1989 is that a 4lb-plus chub is a good size and anything over 5lb a genuine specimen, perhaps comparable with a roach of well over 2lbs, but in 2012 a four pounder hardly warrants a mention and it is clear that many bloggers are looking for at least six pound plus fish to light their respective candles. Not only this but the number of these bigger fish being caught is quite staggering, indeed 12 of the top 20 of the Chub Study Group list have been captured since 2000
Maybe specimen angling on more natural/naturalised waters has experienced an halcyon period without the participants realising it and the otter will now bring that back to a level of normality. We may even need a new record list like sort of 'drug enhanced' and 'clean' athletics world record lists!
Anyway all that is just a theory without much substance other than a bit of common logic but it seems plausible don't you think? My only 'concern' about this, coming at it now as a selfish angler, and whether the above is true or not, we may see otters become slightly more common than their territories can realistically support longer-term for a short period at which point it is likely that fish and other prey species will be over-plundered until the predator experiences 'die-off' to a level of natural equilibrium, a phenomenon known by ecologists as 'overshoot' of the 'carrying capacity' of the habitat. This could be brief but in an animal with such a large individual range one might perhaps assume it could take sometime now that I am lead to believe local rivers are at carrying capacity of male otters
References:
The Complete Specimen Hunter, Tony Miles (Crowood), 1989
www.carryingcapacity.com
The Angling Trust website
Chub Study Group List of Top 50 Chub
IUCN red list
Monday, 15 October 2012
Boys & fishing
So, back to the fishing then
Today I took Parps for the first time in some time after a disappointment in his short life required some distraction. It was also the first time I'd been since May. He will be eleven in a few days, and thinks he is getting a present. We are toying with telling him his real name
An estate lake was chosen in the hope that the recent rain would've put some colour into the water with the intention of carrying-on the big roach trend from the spring using the lift-bite method and bread flake or crust
As we arrived I suggested to Parps that it might not be a good idea to clump along the bank vibrating the ground and scaring the fish, nor would it be ideal to get too close to the edge. "In case I fall in?", he enquired, "No, because the fish will see you and swim off"..."Oh", he said somewhat disappointed that I had not superficially been more concerned for his welfare
We positioned our boxes close to each other in a comfy pitch without any snags at the water's edge nearby, nor overhanging trees and clear water in front, this seemed logical. The rod we would share, and it was set on rests between us together with various items of tackle on the ground beneath it
The wind in the wider landscape had strengthened in the afternoon but this passed high over the trees surrounding the mirror-like surface of the water with a tinge of colour only serving to limit vision below a depth of around fifteen inches
I got Parps setting-up various pieces of equipment, landing net, keepnet, rod-rests, etc., while I set-up the rod and attached the terminal tackle
A flock of canada geese were present, sharing the lake with a solitary mute swan and some mallards. This presented a tactical challenge. The bait was to be bread, all of these species are avid devourers of it and we felt maybe we needed a plan. Upon plumbing the need for a plan became policy when we realised that an up-ending swan would likely just be able to reach the bait on the bed
Now there have been occasions in my life when outrageous fortune has inexplicably descended on me and impending doom has been averted, one such that immediately comes to mind is when I was heading to a meeting to make a presentation when I would have been standing in front of an audience and the whole sole and heel of my shoe fell off while I was getting dressed. Moments later a boxed pair of new shoes were thrown by the Postman into the hallway while I was having my breakfast after I'd left the door open when fetching the milk! This moment wasn't quite in that league, admittedly, but it transpired that, at regular intervals, parents and children would arrive to feed the whole group of waterbirds in a peg two or three to our right while their view of us was obscured by rushes providing suitably regular opportunities to introduce some mashed bread into the swim and keeping them occupied long enough for it to sink before they meandered back past us to their snoozing area to our left
"Don't use the crust!", said Parps. I thought little of this as it looked quite dry in any event but obviously he was planning an ambush of some kind in his mind
As it happened the intention of avoiding the numerous small roach by fishing large pieces of bread failed due to the unanticipated perseverence of the little sparkly darlings. No lift bites ensued and instead we were treated to the fairly constant towing around of the bait, anchor shot and float by rutiliplankton with just the occasional strike connecting with a fish. In some ways this was good as it was the first time Parps had had to strike into a fish in the time-honoured manner, as previously he had only tried feeder fishing [set-up such that the fish hooked themselves (and he himself a few times)] and pole fishing when he could simply lift into the fish. So this was good practice. "Strike your arm across your chest until you feel the fish, then stop and wind it in", I suggested once, or was it twice? No, in hindsight, I think it was eight or ten times, but there was a distinct tendancy not to be too forceful, we will get there though, I guarantee it!
We had 'our' moments; winding the open-faced reel backwards, standing on the tackle box, putting the bung out of the landing net pole into the net, etc., but not one tangle and no strong words, in fact all but the perfect introduction to another type of fishing for him and a good few lessons learnt, including an unreasonable level of respect for the prized accumulated gear, especially that in our own boxes and a desire to improve on it to be 'like yours'
A kingfisher drew our attention briefly, and then again as it sought out suitable fishing perches in the fallen branches. We had discussed this possibility on the way and hoped to hear the 'plop' of one after a tiddler or two, but we had to content ourselves with the topping of roach and the twice seen streak of blue and orange
At this time the outstanding highlight of the day, for a ten year old, was reached. Soup time. This was where the crust came in, so it was more of a pea and ham-bush as it turned-out. I discovered it wasn't fish-food it was boy-bait and (boy) did it sound good, so good in fact that later, when the soup well had run dry, it was used as coffee crutons...they were still there at the end however, and somewhat scummy on top
We have a tradition we engage in after days out, holidays - any kind of event, in that on the trip home we discuss what each of us thought the best bit to have been
For me it was just being our there again after a few months' interlude (to quote my own, as it happened, inadvertently prophetic previous post title) but I said it was the kingfisher. I don't recall what my little chatterbox companion said as I had drifted into a world which I perceived as his mental state and came up with my own ten-item list in fairly precise order of importance:
It's fascinating that my earliest strong recollection of fishing with my Dad (The Old Duffer) is actually a smell. The smell of dried breadcrumbs in his faded red tackle box. I also remember how skilful he was (still is I might add), compared to me as a complete novice, and how I could never possibly get to be that good as he cast over to the rushes and caught bream after bream in those unending sunlit summer days. Nowadays it seems one is supposed to catch carp in the rain, I don't geddit. Of course it wasn't always sunny it's just that we didn't go if it rained...we watched Grandstand instead, and ate homemade apple pie
Today I took Parps for the first time in some time after a disappointment in his short life required some distraction. It was also the first time I'd been since May. He will be eleven in a few days, and thinks he is getting a present. We are toying with telling him his real name
 |
| Parps' first fish, five years ago - not then practiced at the trophy shot. It wasn't scared of him |
An estate lake was chosen in the hope that the recent rain would've put some colour into the water with the intention of carrying-on the big roach trend from the spring using the lift-bite method and bread flake or crust
As we arrived I suggested to Parps that it might not be a good idea to clump along the bank vibrating the ground and scaring the fish, nor would it be ideal to get too close to the edge. "In case I fall in?", he enquired, "No, because the fish will see you and swim off"..."Oh", he said somewhat disappointed that I had not superficially been more concerned for his welfare
We positioned our boxes close to each other in a comfy pitch without any snags at the water's edge nearby, nor overhanging trees and clear water in front, this seemed logical. The rod we would share, and it was set on rests between us together with various items of tackle on the ground beneath it
The wind in the wider landscape had strengthened in the afternoon but this passed high over the trees surrounding the mirror-like surface of the water with a tinge of colour only serving to limit vision below a depth of around fifteen inches
I got Parps setting-up various pieces of equipment, landing net, keepnet, rod-rests, etc., while I set-up the rod and attached the terminal tackle
A flock of canada geese were present, sharing the lake with a solitary mute swan and some mallards. This presented a tactical challenge. The bait was to be bread, all of these species are avid devourers of it and we felt maybe we needed a plan. Upon plumbing the need for a plan became policy when we realised that an up-ending swan would likely just be able to reach the bait on the bed
Now there have been occasions in my life when outrageous fortune has inexplicably descended on me and impending doom has been averted, one such that immediately comes to mind is when I was heading to a meeting to make a presentation when I would have been standing in front of an audience and the whole sole and heel of my shoe fell off while I was getting dressed. Moments later a boxed pair of new shoes were thrown by the Postman into the hallway while I was having my breakfast after I'd left the door open when fetching the milk! This moment wasn't quite in that league, admittedly, but it transpired that, at regular intervals, parents and children would arrive to feed the whole group of waterbirds in a peg two or three to our right while their view of us was obscured by rushes providing suitably regular opportunities to introduce some mashed bread into the swim and keeping them occupied long enough for it to sink before they meandered back past us to their snoozing area to our left
"Don't use the crust!", said Parps. I thought little of this as it looked quite dry in any event but obviously he was planning an ambush of some kind in his mind
As it happened the intention of avoiding the numerous small roach by fishing large pieces of bread failed due to the unanticipated perseverence of the little sparkly darlings. No lift bites ensued and instead we were treated to the fairly constant towing around of the bait, anchor shot and float by rutiliplankton with just the occasional strike connecting with a fish. In some ways this was good as it was the first time Parps had had to strike into a fish in the time-honoured manner, as previously he had only tried feeder fishing [set-up such that the fish hooked themselves (and he himself a few times)] and pole fishing when he could simply lift into the fish. So this was good practice. "Strike your arm across your chest until you feel the fish, then stop and wind it in", I suggested once, or was it twice? No, in hindsight, I think it was eight or ten times, but there was a distinct tendancy not to be too forceful, we will get there though, I guarantee it!
We had 'our' moments; winding the open-faced reel backwards, standing on the tackle box, putting the bung out of the landing net pole into the net, etc., but not one tangle and no strong words, in fact all but the perfect introduction to another type of fishing for him and a good few lessons learnt, including an unreasonable level of respect for the prized accumulated gear, especially that in our own boxes and a desire to improve on it to be 'like yours'
A kingfisher drew our attention briefly, and then again as it sought out suitable fishing perches in the fallen branches. We had discussed this possibility on the way and hoped to hear the 'plop' of one after a tiddler or two, but we had to content ourselves with the topping of roach and the twice seen streak of blue and orange
At this time the outstanding highlight of the day, for a ten year old, was reached. Soup time. This was where the crust came in, so it was more of a pea and ham-bush as it turned-out. I discovered it wasn't fish-food it was boy-bait and (boy) did it sound good, so good in fact that later, when the soup well had run dry, it was used as coffee crutons...they were still there at the end however, and somewhat scummy on top
We have a tradition we engage in after days out, holidays - any kind of event, in that on the trip home we discuss what each of us thought the best bit to have been
For me it was just being our there again after a few months' interlude (to quote my own, as it happened, inadvertently prophetic previous post title) but I said it was the kingfisher. I don't recall what my little chatterbox companion said as I had drifted into a world which I perceived as his mental state and came up with my own ten-item list in fairly precise order of importance:
- The soup
- The bread
- Feeding the bread to the assembled feathered masses at the end
- The fish we put back early because it had an injured fin
- The banter
- The strength of the rod
- Looking at a fly I accidentally knocked into the water
- The 'really good' reel
- The stuff in my tackle box
- The fish we caught (note: not 'he' caught, but 'we' caught). Tenth on the list.
 |
| Items 1 and 2 |
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Highlands and back
 |
| A Dreadful Scene...but one we endured - with reluctance |
The spring and summer were not totally wasted, I might add, three weeks sunlit bliss in the West Highlands of Scotland were some of best times we've ever had, and that while the Midlands were doused in the wettest summer we could have imagined...or wetter
Filming a white-tailed eagle and orca were firsts, and underwater filming in the clear clean shallow sea was a real eye opener, as was rock-pooling in remote locations, with every other species uncovered having to be looked-up on our frugal holiday book shelf given the lack of web access
 |
| Male orca blowing off the isle of Canna |
The August list was not as long as previous years, nor did it extend to many more lines than the preceding May list. The breeding birds had dispersed by then and, most noticeably, there wasn't a common sandpiper to be seen, whereas in spring it was difficult to avoid them
Twite were quite numerous in various places, with one even spotted in the garden where we stayed, together with a regularly seen adult common lizard on spare roof tiles which we had spread around in the hope of seeing an adder basking on them early morning but what I find most surprising about our regular visit to this part of the world is that the books and distribution maps of various (particularly bird) species suggest that some of our encounters don't actually exist there. A number of these are what we in England might consider relatively common species, such as yellowhammer; there is one specific location in the West Highlands where these buntings can be guaranteed and a handful of pairs appear to breed quite happily and yet finding any suggestion of them in the text books is another matter. There seems to be a missing link between observers records and the available written word
That truly great ornithologist James Fisher produced a series of bird recognition books back in the 1940's the maps from which would make your hair curl, nay fall out!, if you were to compare them with the distribution of certain species today. Okay, one is inclined to question the validity of mapping from so long ago when one presumes less birders might have actively been pursuing the pastime with the level of commitment and detail demonstrated by the likes of the BTO and it's members today but nevertheless there must be some truth it
So what are we to make of that? Well, going to an apparently different extreme for a moment, we do know that 99%+ of the species ever to exist on earth are now extinct and that there have been five great extinction events since life first appeared. There is also a strong suggestion that we might now be in the throes of a further extinction event and that this one might be caused by man, although that is another matter; whether the extinctions occurring these days are caused by man or not it is clearly perfectly normal for them to occur
And how is that related to distribution maps? For those of us who try to rely on them and credit them with some kind of certainty we have to understand that this is not actually possible for many species. Obviously we can easily say that the carrion crow, for instance, will be widespread and present year-round in the Midlands but the less stable species, for those which ebb and flow in terms of population and number, tree sparrow is a good example, it is simply too much to ask to be able to view accurate mapping from one year, or even decade, to the next
 |
| Spring sunset over The Small Isles. West Highlands of Scotland |
The point of all this has only recent fully dawned on me...I've always been one to be keen to check out an area I am visiting before I leave so that I know what to expect but available information is only a guide and often the greatest source of information will be local knowledge and discussion with recent visitors. We are too keen these days to view things over too short a period when fuelling our concerns about an array of subjects, be they a certain declining animal or, so called, austerity measures in recession. In the same way that I can post this piece with the touch of an icon we expect instant results and fall into perceived crises with equal speed
When I was younger I would target 30 fish in an evening competition on the Oxford Canal knowing that anything over a pound of fish would put me close to a framing place on the night if one or two of them were, as we used to say, 'netters'. But some bright spark had decided to introduce, what is now considered, an invasive species into the Great Ouse Relief Channel and the rest is history...but it doesn't have to be bad history...it's just different, and we have to get used to change and deal with it, take advantage of it and learn new skills in the same way in which it would, frankly, be a miracle to catch 30 small fish from those same venues these days, you could catch three or four cracking fish by contrast. Both scenarios were/are perfectly enjoyable in their own way but we could choose to moan about it if we analyse it too closely or close our eyes to change
It may be the beginning of the end, who really knows?, but we can try to enjoy it!
[15.10.12 Update: Oblique Jimmy Saville reference removed after a severe ear-bending from The Lady Burton. "It's too soon", she said. "Not for those it allegedly happened to it isn't", came the reply. Anyway I'm sure she's right, she usually is]
References:
Hostile Habitats, Scotland's Mountain Environment, Scottish Mountaineering Trust (2006)
Bird Recognition - 3/4 Volumes, James Fisher, Pelican (circa 1947)
The Sixth Extinction, Richard Leakey & Roger Lewin, Doubleday (1995)
British Trust for Ornithology, www.bto.org
Thursday, 17 May 2012
The Interlude
Having had a lesson in the craft of what one might (and not in any derogatory way) describe as old-fashioned rod & line fishing from Jeff Hatt two or three weeks ago, which you can mug-up on here
http://idlersquest.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/canal-roach-bream-gentlemans-exchange.html
and even here, if you so desire,
http://idlersquest.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/canal-roach-suns-burning-your-eyes-out.html
I was tempted to roll back the years as they say or, as it transpired, roll back the eyes
Which reminds me of that time when someone on TV said (it may have been Harry Hill, I don't recall) "...and now the next episode of Casualty in which this week Charlie has an operation to stop his eyes rolling about in his head". Totally irrelevant, but it made me laugh at the time!
There was a time, in all modesty, when my rod & line skills were admired, admittedly mainly by passing Jack Russels and small children, but that makes it no less true to say. So I thought the prospect of combining my, still quite new, Avon rod with the, now compulsory, lift bite method would be a doddle. Jeff made it look easy and so, therefore, would I
When I turned-up without the customary blue dalek to sit on, without the matching blue matchman's (there must be a pun there but I just can't quite see it) rod, bait and net bags, my recently constant angling companion, who shall not be named for reasons which will be revealed later, was drawn to somewhat unfavourable words along the lines of 'goodness what unusual kit you have there', i.e. river roving gear of rucksack, ready set-up rod and reel, and nets
We had chosen probably the most consistently productive area of the N Oxford cut I am aware of and although in the past I was never fortunate enough to draw bang-on it in a match, as far as I recall, I do distinctly remember some good catches in between times including one net of over 10lbs of big roach on a red letter day when they just happened to all be in front of me and taking any bait almost anywhere I put the hook.
So this was to be a big roach expedition on rod and line
The early morning pre-narrowboat hiatus (can you have an hiatus before something?) was the customary target time and we arrived at around 5am to be fishing by 5.15. This week was my friends turn to chose the swim he preferred and I would make do with the hand I was dealt; using not inconsiderable logic, he sat opposite a dense willow to shield the rising sun from his eyes...'didn't think of that and I sat in the open between trees to have my inner eye scorched as the morning progressed. Fortunately the car now knows the way back and I didn't need to look, and furthermore, as I've been surviving on one bite one fish tactics of late, seeing the float wouldn't matter too much either
The plan wasn't just restricted to the rod. I also intended to try baiting three swims with the mashed centre of a tin loaf rather than sliced bread and even went so far as to leave the sliced bread back at ChezNous so that I wouldn't be tempted, it's the only way sometimes. So I would then have to use real flake on the hook too, my God!
The morning was quite glorious, if chilly, but you can't have early sun without the associated cold let in by the lack of that insulating blanket of cloud over the countryside, or, more to the point, heat let out by it. A deep mist lay over the water as we drove down and it lingered longer than normal on yet another in a string of breeze less occasions. Water colour looked good but sub-surface visibility was down to only about 4-6", not ideal for bread but good enough to suggest we would get the odd bite
Having prepped what little bit of gear I had brought I proceeded to feed what was to be my initial swim and then wandered along to two further pegs I would be able to remember due to distinguishing features without the need to mark the ground and did the same
The next half hour was spent trying to get the float suitably settled as the surface drag was stronger than I had anticipated with the early lack of breeze but this did increase as the session wore-on and a heavier rig eventually solved the problem with a no.1 shot necessary on the bottom (no, really!) and a string of no.4's as bulk above it giving the long cane-bristled slender-bodied waggler an option to lift if the fish nosed-down to pick up the bait and then righted itself simultaneously picking the shot off the bottom. Well, that's the theory, the same one I have been employing a touch more subtly on the pole
So I gave it 30 minutes in the first swim and then 20 in the next two
Zilch
As I returned to swim 1 to suffer the sun a touch more the (angling) Artist formerly known as The Old Duffer was netting a fish taken on what he terms 'the poacher's pole' dangled in the side. It rarely fails and usually succeeds in snaring the odd perch, but not today, as 14.5ozs of slimline roach was plundered. It originated as a freshwater crayfish catching method many years ago using bacon but now those protected species are in such decline that we never see one
What did surprise us though was a deep croaking sound from the base of the willow he was sat opposite. Three or four slow croaks in series like a jumbo frog, it couldn't surely be a woodcock but sure enough when I fired-up the iPhone app of bird sounds it was exactly that and also confirmed that we have had them from time to time in the marshy field next to our house from whence The Lady Burton and I have heard that self-same sound in the night. Another tick for the garden, having long since dispensed grappling with the argument as to whether a 'hearing' counts as a 'sighting', well obviously it isn't technically a sighting but it is 'a tick'
So by the time I had got into the swing of fishing swim one again the dew on the Avon rod was so severe as to seriously impede casting as the line stuck to the blank. This took me right back to something I learnt at the age of about 12-13 when it was explained to me that match rods had eyes with longer legs to stop the line sticking to the blank and with lighter gear this was essential in rain or dew otherwise you wouldn't be able to cast. This had evaded my memory until this moment but if I were to try it again it would be with a different rod (and I probably will, 'can't be defeated can we?)
Eventually the float plopped into the right spot and on the second cast, to my great surprise I have to confess, the float popped-up and a lump was hooked. The beauty of this method is that the bites are almost literally unmissable it seems. This fish put up a real battle and I had greater difficulty bringing it to heel than a couple of river chub in March, a somewhat chubby round the midriff in fact, bronze bream was drawn over the net by which time matey boy had ventured closer to see what was talking so long to land. The fish went 2-5-8 as shown in the picture below and was followed by a pounder after I had revisited the other swims again after re-baiting them as I left them first time round, some twenty minutes later
 |
A last cast on caster as I packed away resulted in a missed bite with two casters on the hook and one of them coming back crushed, probably by a confidently feeding roach. So be it, it was time to leave to get the boys to cricket practice anyway, why they want to bother I've no idea as all of the games are washed-out anyway
Tuesday, 8 May 2012
A Trail of Crumbs to the Big Roach
A pattern has started to form. Stillwater Saturdays and Canals on Sundays, Parps prefers ice cream sundaes but that will have to wait until it warms up (will it ever?!)
I'd had my eye on a certain estate lake for many years and after a mid-week recce between appointments the time had come. During the actual session, apart from learning about the venue in terms of its topography, etc. I spent a good few minutes in discussion with a passer-by who turned-out to be a former british barbel record holder and subsequently a pursuer of massive Thames chub. He had a bit of useful information on the venue and having spent the morning after roach which produced a 31-fish net of 5lbs with fish to 4ozs including some solid little rudd and a solitary perch I now feel better prepared for a return trip in pursuit of something a touch bigger
Sunday the quest to break the North Oxford Canal p.b. resumed with a first return to the same peg since this adventure began. The attack would replicate the previous weekend's except that wandering the towpath the previous evening would stand-in for stalking a topping shoal. Not a single fish was seen on that walk but the changed face of the venue was quite disarming; ten or more years since my last visit and huge rush beds had been removed to leave wide sweeping bends in their wake and frankly the heavier colour after the incessant trend of daily rain did nothing to make it any more desirable, give it a decent pre-christmas cold spell however and that would all change too as the colour drops out and the bready tinge reestablishes itself.
The lack of active roach did nothing to crush the confidence in taking at least one proper fish early the following morning as this was the area I had taken two individual pounders with a 3lb bream a few weeks prior and is historically an area which holds big roach year round. Bread flake over fine white crumb and a coarser freeze dried liquidised bread at the bottom of the far slope was adopted with caster fed 5m to one side.
The Old Duffer was on fire with about ten bites, a couple of pull-outs and a big roach plus some decent perch so show for his maggot attack 3/4 across. His roach went 1-3-0. For my part the attack at the cost of avoiding smaller fish was again high risk but knowing the fish were present it was also no risk at all - one bite, one fish. Quite a strange looking, pre-photoshopped fish in fact like the head and middle of a really decent roach maybe weighing around 1-8-0 attached to the tail of a 12ozer! No doubt in my mind that this was a roach though, despite this. Maybe one which had been touched by the electro-fishing plate years before? When suspended from the electronic scales I was expecting around 1-1-0 but when the ounces went to 20.8 I had to snap myself into conversion mode rather quickly, concluding that this half fish, half fish, fish was in fact the bruiser to break my N Oxford Canal p.b. at 1-4-12. In hindsight the front end was quite chunky compared to its somewhat lacking rear but I suppose we all rather hope that the p.b. will be that perfectly formed Liz Hurley of a fish...never mind you can't have everything!
Next day saw me return to the location of a recent rain affected blank. 'Why?', one asks one's self. Well it was actually an attempt to get to perhaps the most likely area for those pound plus rutilii but again the moored narowboats appeared to have scuppered prospects when viewed through the early mist. Consequently a seat by the bridge on the 'wrong' side would have to do. An extended plan was to be deployed here. Lobworm over chopped worm 5m out at the base of the near slope, bread flake at the base of the far slope and maggot further across towards the concrete piles. However two of these plans needed adjustment on the bank. The tub of lobbies I had amassed over the previous two weeks from the garden when opened looked distinctly like bronze maggots...as did the second box! 2 pints of maggots on a canal unlikely to produce more than a couple of bites seemed a touch excessive and sure enough I had left the worms at home! Conversely the maggots were turning and so I was able to select a few casters to flick across to the top of the far shelf quite regularly and, more to keep me amused than anything else I threw a few maggots to 5m very few minutes As per the previous day the only bite was hit and the resistance of a really solid roach ran though the elastic and into the top four of the pole after it had initially somewhat meekly swam towards me. Once in the net this looked a far more 'text book' fish than yesterday's, the right shape in the right places and quite stocky too. The Duff one eventually tempted a bite, even after he had convinced himself, and myself, that he wasn't going to catch anything at all. His was also a roach, of around 12ozs.
A very tame dunnock gave more bites than the fish as I threw him a few maggots and a female mallard with 12 of those little motorised ducklings devoured more of the bread.
Roll on next weekend, and warmer dry evenings when the after dark option will present itself
I'd had my eye on a certain estate lake for many years and after a mid-week recce between appointments the time had come. During the actual session, apart from learning about the venue in terms of its topography, etc. I spent a good few minutes in discussion with a passer-by who turned-out to be a former british barbel record holder and subsequently a pursuer of massive Thames chub. He had a bit of useful information on the venue and having spent the morning after roach which produced a 31-fish net of 5lbs with fish to 4ozs including some solid little rudd and a solitary perch I now feel better prepared for a return trip in pursuit of something a touch bigger
 |
| A pair of tame, if non-descript, little estate lake ducks The female took many trips beneath the legs of my box! |
 |
| I had forgotten how beautiful rudd could be. The first of the new era |
Sunday the quest to break the North Oxford Canal p.b. resumed with a first return to the same peg since this adventure began. The attack would replicate the previous weekend's except that wandering the towpath the previous evening would stand-in for stalking a topping shoal. Not a single fish was seen on that walk but the changed face of the venue was quite disarming; ten or more years since my last visit and huge rush beds had been removed to leave wide sweeping bends in their wake and frankly the heavier colour after the incessant trend of daily rain did nothing to make it any more desirable, give it a decent pre-christmas cold spell however and that would all change too as the colour drops out and the bready tinge reestablishes itself.
The lack of active roach did nothing to crush the confidence in taking at least one proper fish early the following morning as this was the area I had taken two individual pounders with a 3lb bream a few weeks prior and is historically an area which holds big roach year round. Bread flake over fine white crumb and a coarser freeze dried liquidised bread at the bottom of the far slope was adopted with caster fed 5m to one side.
The Old Duffer was on fire with about ten bites, a couple of pull-outs and a big roach plus some decent perch so show for his maggot attack 3/4 across. His roach went 1-3-0. For my part the attack at the cost of avoiding smaller fish was again high risk but knowing the fish were present it was also no risk at all - one bite, one fish. Quite a strange looking, pre-photoshopped fish in fact like the head and middle of a really decent roach maybe weighing around 1-8-0 attached to the tail of a 12ozer! No doubt in my mind that this was a roach though, despite this. Maybe one which had been touched by the electro-fishing plate years before? When suspended from the electronic scales I was expecting around 1-1-0 but when the ounces went to 20.8 I had to snap myself into conversion mode rather quickly, concluding that this half fish, half fish, fish was in fact the bruiser to break my N Oxford Canal p.b. at 1-4-12. In hindsight the front end was quite chunky compared to its somewhat lacking rear but I suppose we all rather hope that the p.b. will be that perfectly formed Liz Hurley of a fish...never mind you can't have everything!
 |
| 1-4-12 North Oxford canal P.B. |
 |
| A decent roach is drawn to The Old Duffer's net |
That which had devoured a nice piece of flake however pulled the scales down to 1-2-4 and as such goes high in the all-time list for this canal, but not high enough to threaten the top spot
 |
| A chunky 1-2-4 roach in the hand |
What is becoming apparent is that if one were to draw a graph showing the pound-plus roach taken during this search they would fill a vary narrow band from 1-0-0 to 5ozs above that weight. I remain convinced that fish over this size must exist as Jeff Hatt has taken a number above that weight at the very western end of the canal and I know that the areas I am fishing are capable of supporting fish hovering around the magical two pound mark from past reports of weighed and witnessed fish in years gone by. Obviously big fish will eventually die but the capacity to support them exists and so with that and the generally absence of small fish in mind my confidence stays high while the scope for the piscine biomass remains for the slack to be taken up by roach, perch, odd bream and zander. It may be case of tracking down those larger fish if they are shoaled together or it may be that they exist as the odd individual swimming amongst the pounders; the latter possibility is my preferred dream and I think it's just a case of plugging away until I find one with this neatly targetted method. Next I am inclined to step-up the rigs to a heavier level using larger flakes of bread possibly from a tin loaf (a la chub fishing) rather than using sliced bread. For now the North Oxford canal p.b. is broken, just, and, while not ecstatic, it is a very satisfying feeling to have acheived it, even if only by an ounce.
Roll on next weekend, and warmer dry evenings when the after dark option will present itself
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)