What did you do with the God-given extra hour after British Summer Time came to its annual end? Did you take advantage and have a lay in – or did you take advantage of some extra fishing? I did.
I thought I’d take my traditional outlook on angling life to its extremes – and fish the cattle drink in the field through which my favourite small stream runs. I’ve looked mesmerised into its crystal clear water (when the cows aren’t drinking) for quite some time – off and on for 36 years, I guess – but never thought it deep enough to fish. Until now.
You see, fish aren’t stupid, as many a recipient of a fairground gold fish would argue, and they know where to station themselves to pick off food items in the flow.
And I suppose this is where the clove-hoofed beast helps its river neighbour, stirring up the mud in the margins and helping to release all manner of invertebrates, worms, molluscs and fly life.
Last week I thought I saw a small shoal of small roach, a few chublet and the odd dace, but I might have been wrong given what happened when I cast a small stick float into the central glide just beyond the ancient wrought iron fence dividing the cattle from an early bath. So ok, I wasn’t actually fishing in the drink, but I was fishing just beyond it.
So with my extra hour, it was time to see what the stream would yield. Now don’t get me wrong, I love gravel pit and big river fishing but if I could only fish in one style from now on – it would be running a small float in a little stream.
I was hoping for half a dozen roach and maybe a dace and chublet, or minnows and gudgeon to show the stream was in rude health.
My hour disappeared rapidly, as did the next three, with many a delightful curve in my old cane rod, a 10ft 6inch wand with the sweetest of action, quick in the tip but with some mid section power.
The result was staggering. I hooked over 100 fish and netted 94 of them weighing in at a guess, a total of 20 pounds; it would have been more had I not forgotten my landing net in the excitement of getting to the river. Fortunately I was in waders so was able to draw the bigger fish over and on top of the marginal water cress and lift by hand.
Sixty redfin graced the net, one tipping the pound and a further dozen or 15 between half a pound and a full 16 ounces. And every one a specimen from such a modest home – and probably caught for the very first time. The remaining fish were all perch, so no gobio, minnows nor chublet which was a surprise. The bigger roach succumbed to a pinch of flake while all the smaller rutilus and all the perch took a single red or white maggot.
But the biggest surprise – that the stream had been so generous in yielding its secrets. Now, if only I could turn the clock back and start the day again!
Gary Cullum
