Tuesday 12 May 2009

Slabs

Well not quite, but bin lids at least. That was what I saw when walking the dog, feeding vertically as bream do, and waving their tails in the air
(water!) like so many flags in the breeze...I had to have a go for them. Because they were there.



On arrival they had stopped feeding and were invisible. I put one rod right over on the far shelf and one in the track, and threw in a few big balls of groundbait to induce the bream to have their afters. After some time the far bank float dipped sharply and I struck into nothing, and ten minutes later it did the same, and with the same result. Ten minutes again, the float dipped once more but this time I was into a fish, which proved to be a pretty good roach that I hoped would make the pound, and it did, but only if I give myself a quarter of an ounce, which I will, because a pound roach sounds fine, but saying I'd caught one of fifteen and three quarters ounces would make me sound a tad anal, wouldn't it?



Nice start. Hoping for more roach now and sod the bream, because this girl is a real beauty and very plump. I slipped her in the net to stop her from telling her girlfriends about me, but nothing doing, no more roach came from the far shelf, but then the boat track rod started giving indications, and in came the first bream. Another small bream came a little later but not before I'd missed a few bites. Then I noticed some commotion fifty yards down against the far bank and went to investigate. Fish, of some sort were creating waves as they rooted about under the overhanging bushes. I just had to move, to see what they were.

It was a good move for bream, because that is what they were, and probably the same shoal I'd spotted earlier in the day. I only had a short while left and managed to land a further three, all of respectable size for the canal, none over two pounds (where are these big canal bream that the locals talk of?) but lots of fun all the same. And they do give a good account of themselves these canal bream, quite heart stopping for twenty seconds or so, which is a good fight for the species.





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