... AND THEN DESPERATION SET IN

There were eighty to one hundred hours of opportunity, occasionally punctuated by bursts of excited activity from our aquatic adversaries that would make a spod rod curl, and in all that time around seven or eight real indications of fishy presence plus one actual, positive, definite, undoubted bite

Fish brushing against the line is one thing but a proper bite? Well that was simply an unwelcome interruption to the interminable slumber

The target, I recalled, had been a tench. 'Consensus was The Stillwater could produce a 'double' this year, with 2017's best around 9lbs and last year's 9.8

Certainly, the water was slow to warm up this spring and, when it did, a burst of persistent easterlies injected the type of temperature drop that would resurrect Damart. The odd few fish caught in that period clammed-up with their brethren and cousins, and, to this day, have barely shown any willingness to accept the anglers bait

The crux of the problem is that the density of natural food available in the fishes own habitat is so deep and diverse that anything needing anglers bait to survive is either already close to death or too incompetent to be referred to by whatever name humankind may have imposed upon it

Baiting every two to three days, and fishing an evening and a morning pretty much every week, from March until the beginning of July became the normal routine. Running the gamut and vagaries of accommodating birders (thank you folks!) to access the swim, off-roading for about a mile in a, so-called, 4x4 and inundating the grill with grass seeds in the process, fascination turned to determination, turned to obsession and, ultimately, simply to boredom

Yes, the birding was good initially but, as summer ignites, the bird world takes a inversely proportional dousing in the adrenaline stakes

There were a few though, osprey, hobby,'Channel' wagtail, even a possible, unconfirmed, nightjar, together with an array of butterflies and dragon or damselflies to keep the unrelenting lister in currency

Recently emerged black-tailed skimmer I believe

What were we taking about?

Oh yes, tench!

So, it being Bloggers Challenge year, under new rules, I figured a 9lbs+ tubby tinca plus the odd spin-off specimen in the process would be a great start come the sound of the nationwide starting pistol on June 16th

At least it can be confirmed that the real bite came after that date. 80-100 hours, 50-odd pints of bait, 680 miles in 25 minute trips, an unhealthy ingestion of Ronald's finest sustenance at awkward hours, but a 'nice' fish at seven pounds four ounces for sure

Well, jigger my kumquat, or should I say, "Blimey", what a campaign for that reward!

A pic?

Oh go on then...

A Good Day by the Water

The angling winter has been peppered with blank sessions; the birding equivalent however punctuated by just the odd sparkling find - a garden brambling and two lesser redpoll just a couple of weeks ago; the Hawfinch at Draycote Water and such like.

Now that the river season has emitted it last feeble lung of air The Stillwater has become home. Prebaiting for nearly 2 weeks now eventually the fish will become active (with the water temperature have breached ten degrees centigrade today) and find the bait when loaded hookbaits are included with a bonanza to ensue but, until then, a recent barren angling excursion littered with birding highlights will keep us warm with its memory.

An hour after dawn, the plaintive call of the curlew from the north. Drifting on the barely perceptible breeze it flew, gently, as curlew do, as if the air itself could counter gravity and support them aloft without muscular propulsion, perhaps a male with less extravagant bill, directly overhead and disappeared South across the water. A pair had completed the same journey a week ago at a similar time of day.

That would have sufficed as a highlight, we're not greedy, but at 10.15am a returning osprey gently cruised along the north bank. It's flap, flap, glide flight combined with its size, obvious white areas and wing profile made it unmistakable as it likely headed in the direction of nesting areas in deepest Rutland.

By this point the fact we were biteless was but an insignificant midge bite compared to the emerging imago from a pupa of excitement that was unfolding.

This morning would yet get better still.

Unseen the "choo-lu-lu" of the greenshank overhead and a nice early record too.

As I shared this information via the ether I caught a glimpse of a heavy white bird. In no way the jaunty flight of a common or arctic tern but a steady 'gait'. The view too fleeting to achieve a positive i.d. but Norman (my gut, he's had a name since I suddenly put on two trouser sizes and took on a life of his own) said, "Sandwich tern".

I lost the bird from view as it headed east but it came back from a second circuit and the unmistakable whiteness, steady flight and close-up of the yellow-tipped black bill confirmed that it was indeed a sandwich tern.

A first ever F, F&F inland record to complete a rare old treat of a birdwatching day; the only slight irritation the lack of camera, as I'd tried to travel as light as possible given a long walk and boggy terrain.

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

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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

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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

'Tis the Season to be Chilly

The numbing of the fingers and toes is that bit more sharp and sudden when birding than angling but a lack of decent footwear for the purpose doesn't improve matters and neither do receding storm water levels, leaving the odd hidden mud or water-filled foothole, enhance the possibility of dry feet over a period of waterside prowling

By way of a change, it was time to revert to the original plan on Boxing Day and punctuate the angling-dominated posts with something different but still of the countryside

The Dog had taken dubious possession of a remarkably good quality 'mighty midget' spotting telescope care of Santa and, as his tripod was in Cornwall, mine came into play upon request. 'Play' being the operative word as the attachment I had wasn't entirely a snug fit and there was about an inch of slack in the mechanism, but we got there with some careful targetted jiggery and pokery

Instant success with a female goldeneye by the dam wall after a touch of confusion when the wintering diving duck appeared to stay under for around 15 minutes, bringing the unlikely but perfectly possible prospect of an unlucky kill by old Esox lucius to mind, the place apparently being well populated; but, no, we'd simply missed it when unsucessfully intermittently inspecting all of the loosely assembled great crested grebes for the chance of a red or black-necked imposter

The waterbody is split by a County boundary following the original line of the river unfortunate enough to have been dammed to build it, and which zig-zags through maps defining the two halves of the currently (sorry) treacly contents. Searching for records for the site is always entertaining, not to say, irritating, as they can appear in either County list

A busy and vocal treecreeper foraged on the thinnest of lichen-clad branches in scrub below the dam as a blue tit 'sipped' its progress throught those same bushes. These were the easy ones, but so long away from the cut and thrust left us needing the pocket guide quite regularly, this being the first determined spot of ornithology by an english stillwater for perhaps two years, certainly on my part, but we got there

The aftermath of the storm, and with more to follow, provided the substrate for tell-tale tracks on the paths, most of which were perforated by little deer hooves. Larger dog prints and the various sole prints of previous walkers marked the path to a deep-cut bay where two larger pink-hued white shapes among the innumerable coots and tufted duck gave away the presence of drake goosander. More closely inspected they were indeed both accompanied by ginger-headed, grey-bodied mates. A solitary male pintail bobbed around among those more prolific species in a heightened state of awareness at our distant, but no doubt obvious, presence as a flock of pochard dived for their lunch, here and there, in the chilled melee

By now the gentle breeze was starting to get through the lack of layers. Had we been roaching the cold would not have penetrated the interminable cocoon but when walking we were a few layers short of a thermal gateau, more of a moist fruit cake really, but enough of such admissions. Wet and unwebbed feet didn't help the situation but by keeping active and leaving The Dog to his scoping from time to time it ensured the retention of enough warmth for a fair stab at the entertainment. Next time preparation will be more thorough

A few jolly festive anglers merrily chatted by their cars as their alarms sat idly-by, waiting for the majority of the turbidity to drop out of the water. A fairly long-term dream we feared

Hen bullfinches raided the nettlebeds for leftover seeds with sun-powered blinding undulating flashes of white as they skipped ahead of us on narrow paths between marginal willow carr on the one side and hawthorn hedge on the other. Finely-barred wren and demure dunnock scuttled and skulked among the damp ruderal festooned with droplet remnants of an early receding fog. The peep of redwing and chuckle of fieldfare entralled our freezing ears as we stumbled, both literally and soggily in my case, upon a fall of apples but most of our resident turdidae failed to show with only the seasonal robin keeping up the family obligation of being represented on the ornithologists' list

Goldeneye proved to be everywhere, but unusally around the perimeter, presumably due to the water colour, with around twenty individuals counted and each group dominated by one sex or the other. Separate flocks of the two common goose species rowdily announced their imminent arrival mid-reservoir to be closely pursued by a handful of larger gulls which settled between the more hefty bodies, stretching and arguing over floating room

Soon the customarily dead iPhone (they really don't cope well with winter do they?) sent us rushing to the car park as we realised we might be late for a family lunch out. We just got there in time and belated list-making ensued whilst orders were placed; thirty-three we made it. 33 enjoyable but hard-earned species, all the better for the challenge and possibly the best option for outdoor engagement in the next week or so one might suspect

When is a fishing trip a birdwatching session?

Recently, when pursuing the usual one bite, one fish tactic, it became apparent for the first time that more of the session than ever before was actually spent gazing around me than on the superficial object of the outing, the float

Now, given that the bite when it came would be visually unavoidable this was not to be seen as an issue necessarily but it did confirm that this really was something completely new. Match fishing never felt like this. The thought that one might take an eye off the float for long enough to identify a female reed bunting perched in the phragmites was unthinkable, literally the thought would not enter one’s head

The prospect of sitting for hours without that degree of focus would have been a n-starter. How could one possibly adequately compete if the commitment wasn’t there?

One thing which the more ‘specialist’ approach allows is the ability to drift into other worlds while one awaits the inevitable additional excitement of the initial interest followed by the capture

Those who are sufficiently in need of distraction to have followed this blog recently will realise that there have been occasions when ‘makes’ of dog have been suitably enthralling at times, especially those days when the one bite was looking dubious

The main secondary interest, though often obvious in their presence, are birds

It is unusual to rack-up a list of less than ten species while sat there enjoying the, often, morning canal-side air and there are passers-by putting in regular appearances which buck the RSPB’s perceived trend, most notably the bullfinch, a bird considered in such plight as to be ‘amber-listed’ as an expression of its conservation concern and yet, nearly always, present on the canal-side wherever there are suitably dense and continuous hawthorn/brambles on the banks 


Early morning, long distance, kestrel on wire

One remains ever hopeful of seeing the odd rarity, or even scarcity, under such circumstances but in reality this is very unusual. By definition it would be of course but it is noticeable that the canal despite its generally perceived ecological value is not all it might be. Passing as a very thin ribbon of water hedges and ocsasional trees through pasture and arable land is not an ideal substrate against which to promote a highly biodiverse ecological community 

However, with a reasonable level of appreciation of bird calls and song it can be fruitful to pick-up species passing overhead and it is this that has brought home the expansion of the raven in Warwickshire. Having once had the dubious honour of being the first person to see this bird at Rutland Water some years back it is one which always resonates when that deep gruff ‘cronk, cronk’ call approaches from any direction. Their growth toward the east seems to mirror that of the buzzard a decade or so previous

Long lens shot of ravens on tower

Strange things do happen though and in the same way that the angler might pursue a PB or another specimen of whatever species or size we always enjoy the unusual for reasons which really do not need to be explored. Three examples of this have occurred just outside Rugby in the past two years involving wading birds and, twice, the same species

On a day when only stale bread was available for bait (don’t ask) an attempt to concoct a paste out of it on the bank went slightly wrong. Ultimately despite the biggest topping shoal of fish to go at only one bite was mustered (as per normal!), the highlight of the occasion was the strangest bird call and one never consciously heard before. It emanated from two locations simultaneously indicating not one but two individuals and, thanks to the wonders of modern technology by a process of elimination using an iPhone app it was narrowed down to whimbrel, never heard or seen one before nor since. The closest bird was ‘clearly’ very close indeed on the far bank but concealed by the bankside vegetation between us at all times

The other two unusual sightings both involved woodcock and, again, remain the only encounters within memory although they are not uncommon in the right territory of damp woodland. The first was in a lengthy period of freezing weather when at first glance through a misty windscreen what initially appeared to be a female mallard was probing in the grassy verge by a quite busy road. Something however wasn’t quite right and a quick turnaround and revisit showed the out of place bird to be a woodcock forced to take refuge in such exposure where the only ground soft enough to probe was right next to the road. The next woodcock event was alluded to in a previous post http://floatflightflannel.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/interlude.html when an individual wholly concealed in dense undergrowth on the far bank emitted soft croaking sounds for a few minutes, again unmistakably confirmed by recordings  

The trend however is for a list of around 10 to 20 species to be compiled in a two hour period with a certain bunch of core birds such as thrush species in winter and warblers in summer supplemented by the crow family, the ever present woodpigeon and, a personal favourite, moorhen plus variable finches, buntings, tits, together with mallard, mute swan, skylark, etc.

Redwing seeking haws at dawn

Returning to angling had, on the face of it, taken away opportunities to birdwatch. Previously a trip out to obtain a list of thirty or forty species would have been very enjoyable but the new found benefits of a more open-minded attitude to angling has allowed the two to flourish in conjunction so they both can be enjoyed and a fishing trip genuinely can be a birding session at the same time albeit within the limitations of the habitat

Let’s face it; it’s just about being out there!

References:
Birds of Conservation Concern (RSPB)

List for 16th November when the fishing interest was just one roachXbream hybrid of a tad under the pound in a session from 7 to 9am:
Moorhen, mallard, fieldfare, kingfisher, gull sp., redwing, starling, house sparrow, robin, blackbird, magpie, carrion crow, woodpigeon, jackdaw, chaffinch, blue tit, wren, bullfinch, raven, song thrush

Revivial Pursuit, or, Some Kind of Bored Game

Misty sunrise near Farnborough, September 2011.
One of the benefits of a job that sometimes has me out at dusk and dawn

Well, here we go...

It had to happen eventually. I tried to resist, really I did, and managed to for about two years, but the temptation overwhelmed me in the end, although I can’t explain why - even to myself

Having spent the best part of the last two weeks laid-up with some kind of flu-bug, the possibility increased as I started to improve and amused myself by reading a wider range of blogs but kept coming back to the same few that I found most appealing...largely centred around natural history and angling in and around Warwickshire (clearly some kind of hotbed with an apparent, perhaps disproportionately, large contingent of Bloggers in this very County...with Daniel having just started too and now this - what is going on?)

Possibility became probability, and, before I realised what was happening, I was trying to think of potential names for it, most of which met with the word ‘rubbish’ when consulted upon in-house (literally), perhaps I should have called it that?, (no comments here please, it’s too early to cope with any criticism!)

Anyway, I had to put that to one side as the temptation to be too ‘clever’ and produce something with multiple meaning took hold, which isn’t good for me. So I by-passed the name and went for the word on the basis that the name would come, like naming a band. It remains to be seen how long this will linger as a word doc until such time as I paste it in, all tidied-up like, as a starter for ten...but only I will know in the end (it was a week)

So what’s it all about? Well, I was in discussion recently about influences that make children turn-out the way they do. One could say it’s luck, and clearly to a degree it is, but if you bring ‘em up right it seems likely they’ll come back round to it at some point in the future, i.e. after the 13-25 period which, let’s face it, is probably only 10% of a lifetime, so not too bad at all

In my own case however that period was peak ‘getting out there’ time. Having been treated to an interesting bird sighting after school, visited the favoured watercourse of the time at a weekend or simply spending time somewhere, anywhere, in the countryside in my childhood - combined with general chit-chat about, and a, then, ever-increasing interest in, various sports and music this continued right through to that time when life takes a different course and one immerses one’s own fruit to be simmered in that multi-ingredient juice blended with your own twist in the hope that it, too, turns-out in a similarly rounded form

That said, it is hopefully (...be more positive!...) probably, beginning to show through that this embryo-blog, more of a blegg at this point, is to make note of and consequently share events as I seek to revisit that world I once inhabited and extend it into new areas. I do not intend to thoroughly explain that world before I re-enter it as that will become more fully apparent as I proceed but hope to compare the present with the past in an objective manner when it seems relevant. The past will range loosely between 1975 and 1995 and will be contrasting various periods, mainly within that range, over-arched by the pursuit of coarse fish (the latter initially as an all-round pleasure/match angler and then for at least a decade solely as a canal match angler), birds and many other aspects of the natural world

Fortunately I kept my optical gear, as I use it for work, so no problem there, but the tackle collection has become denuded by sales, gift (by left hand rather than right, as the old saying goes), general rot and the tendency to narrowly specialise last time around. I won’t be match fishing again so there is another contrast to be experienced as I, perhaps, try to shake-of that ingrained desire to get a bite, any bite, and catch 'anything that swims'...or maybe I won't. That other contemporary ‘hit’ eBay is therefore taking precisely that and I have just taken delivery of what I would call my first ever ‘specialist’ rod, an AVON, my God, and me 50 next year!


We are fortunate enough to have a garden adjoining a marshy field which frankly offers sufficient interest in it's own right, especially in the depths of winter, not to need to venture far. The most unexpected visitors occasionally join us in the garden stream from time to time to avoid being frozen into the pasture and search of the odd morsel

Snipe from bedroom window. A winter visitor for a third consecutive year

Next time I post [if that is the correct ternimology (sic)] I hope to have something mildly interesting to record; it might be about revisiting an old fishing haunt, it could be about bats (flying, or cricket), birds, newts, anything that moves in fact (and some things that don't) or a wider comment but hopefully overall it will be sufficiently engaging to be shared by a few others as I re-take this journey

I hope to be introducing little quirks that have stuck with me from my trips, of whatever type, over the years but that little lot dear reader, if indeed you are yet out there, is where I’m going to be coming from, or more to the point, going to...'can't wait!