It’s been more than seven weeks since my son broke his wrist and ankle and so not able to go fishing.
With his casts just off, though he is still walking with a crutch and has mild pain in his wrist, he was determined that last night we would go to the lake and ‘bother some fish’, as Moth puts it. (Moth doesn’t approve of fish-bothering so stayed at home and watched some Euro footie – the Portugal game looked fab)
There is so much to enjoy at the lake at this time of year. The yellow flags are in full bloom and the floating pads of waterliles are about to burst into flower. They provide lots of cover for little fish and therefore attract bigger fish.
A shoal of roach with a few small perch danced around just under the surface near to the peg where Rupert set up his rod. They were not interested in feeding though.
Big carp leapt and breeched in the lake’s margins under the trees – perhaps bullying smaller fish or marking territory.
In the trees, I saw robins, blue tits, pigeons, doves and heard many other species which I just couldn’t identify. On BBC’s Springwatch the other night I saw Simon King identifying a load of birds just from their song .’Oh, listen to that; that’s a redstart’ he said casually to camera. Bastard. I’d like to be able to do that.
In an ideal world Rupert would have like to have caught a carp, but was happy to settle for a fish – any fish; just to feel the pull of one on the line was going to be enough. Despite plenty of nibbles, knocks and bites, Rupert’s only landed fish proved to be this small silver bream, which we were both happy with.