Funny looking fish

I reckon that as I'm doing more bird photography than fishing at the moment I might as well blog about that for the time being. Leave now if that doesn't interest you! One reason I'm not fishing is that local stillwaters don't inspire me much, and travelling for two/three day sessions is no fun when they are blanks. Popping out for a few hours and travelling no more than ten miles to take photos is much easier - and cheaper with petrol the price it is nowadays.

My plan this morning was a 'milk run' to hit three sites as the sun favoured them - starting off with reed buntings, followed up by lapwings and rounded off with wrens.

Down at the canal I passed an angler of my acquaintance who was just starting off an early morning pole session. Reed and sedge warblers were in evidence, visually as well as audibly, and a reed bunting was in evidence too. The light was just about coming bright enough as I set up, slightly side-tracked by the reed warblers. Although they were noisy enough they were also on the move. I think they were hunting to feed their broods, possibly a fledgeling or two was around as there were twos and threes to be seen.

I need a telephoto lens to see a pole float!

The warblers wouldn't play ball, and the buntings only popped up when I was moving my set up. I didn't fancy my chances much and wandered off with the camera to see what was going on. Sure enough a reed warbler was spotted gathering food, insects and caterpillars, flying across the canal and back, and up and down the bankside reeds.

On my way back to collect my gear there was a speedy flash of iridescent blue over the water. Only one thing that could be. A kingfisher. And there it was perched in a willow overhanging the far margin. Framing a shot was tricky owing the to the reeds between me and the bird but I managed a few, even getting a little closer - without falling in the water! Then the kingfisher flitted off, but only to another branch that gave me a slightly better view where it sat and preened.

The resulting pics are not the best, they needed cropping and the light wasn't too good under the willow, but a bit of work on the PC made them my best kingfisher shots so far. All the more pleasing for not being one of the birds on the local nature reserve which have had more lenses pointed at them than Britney Spears.

The lapwings weren't too keen on seeing me. With them being in a field with a main road running alongside it, and with a low wall for cover, I was hoping they'd be less wary than lapwings usually are. But they weren't. I gave up and went for a wander along another stretch of the canal where I took some pics of a family of swans simply because they were there. A reed bunting presented itself while I was with the swans, but just that bit too far off to make for decent pics. Marginally the best I've managed so far, though not good enough to post.

Off to the wrens next, and sure enough they were where I thought they would be among the bracken and brambles of a ditch bank. Like the warblers they were noisy and feeding infants. No really good opportunities arose before they flew off up a side ditch, which was a shame as they will come close enough.

Deciding to call it a morning I heard a yellowhammer as I set off back to the car. For once it succumbed to my charms and I had the light behind me. The shots aren't as sharp as I think they should be, but they're okay, and far better than any of my earlier efforts. Typically the bird struck its best poses behind stems and leaves, but that's the way it goes.

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More to fishing than catching fish?

Since my last post on here I've mostly been chasing birds around the countryside trying to get close enough for a decent photograph. It's been a lot of fun and a lot like fishing - sitting in a ditch for ages with nothing in sight then a few minutes of frantic activity before the little beggar flies away again. I've seen some interesting sights, but I've seen interesting birdlife activity when I've been fishing.

Posing whitehroat

Out with the camera at the start of the week and it was obvious things were warming up. The horse chestnut trees were coming into bloom as were the hawthorn hedges. Both a few weeks late, both signs to me that the tench should be on the move and starting to fill out with spawn. Although the lure of a new bird to photograph had become an addiction I found myself at the tackle shop on Tuesday buying red maggots. I still dithered about when to go, and put it off until the last minute. After the last minute in fact, as I had to set up in the dark. By eleven I had three baits in place, not expecting any action during the dark hours.

The alarm was set for quarter past four but I awoke half an hour early to the sound of tiny feet pattering in the bivvy. This was followed by the distant sound of sedge warblers greeting the coming dawn (although they rarely shut up!). Next to sing was a blackbird high in a tree behind me followed by the rest of the avian choir. On with the kettle and then up and out. First job was to refill the feeders and recast them, one to a distant mark I intended to bait up and fish two rods to - the other being a 12mm Tutti Frutti pop-up, and the second to a spot in catapult range.

That done, and with the pop-up refreshed, I set about spodding out the usual mix of hemp and groats plus dead maggots, the same concoction was also catapulted out over the close range rig. Then it was back to bed.

It had been a warm night, and the day warmed quickly after a light drizzle shower. By nine the sun was well up and the day turning hot. The lake was almost flat calm, the surface unbroken by dark dorsals or pinhead bubbles. The day progressed in pretty much that state of fishlessness.

On the wildlife front there was plenty going on, reed buntings, warblers (two fidgety to identify) and various tits in the willows either side of my swim, coots with young chicks, the inevitably raucous Canada geese and oystercatchers, plus swallows and martins flying over the water and a cuckoo calling from somewhere close behind my swim. Then there was the entertainment provided by watching ants dealing with maggots, dragging their immobilised prey away.

Ants at work

All interesting stuff and a wonderful part of being at one with the great outdoors. While all this, and the sweet but musty smell of hawthorn blossom and the endless swarms of fluffy willow seeds drifting and swirling on the light breeze, undoubtedly adds to the joy of angling it's the fish that make it complete.

Another warm night passed without any hints of rats. Most unusual for this lake and this swim in particular. The sight of mice on my arrival and their pattering feet the first night was a novelty. I'm probably tempting fate here but I am wondering if the long cold winter has thinned the rats out and let the mice survive? It seems implausible. Time will tell.

Day two dawned overcast and the highlight was watching a pair of great crested grebes firstly doing their courtship dance, and then chasing of a couple of coots that were trying to drive them from the nest they were starting to build in the coots' territory. Coots are usually bullying creatures that get their own way, chasing of birds much larger than themselves, but the grebes were determined and their sharp beaks must have deterred the coots as they soon conceded defeat.

 As the day grew hot, the air still and the water smooth, carp began to cruise at high speed. It was time to do as the coots and admit I was beaten. It had been nice to be out for a couple of nights by the water. That my back stood up to the strain was a welcome bonus, but the new tackle jinx seems to be continuing. I'm hoping that the three tench blanks have been the result of the new pod, rods, and reels, and that the fourth session will break the jinx and I'll catch. If not then I might as well stick to looking at birds through a camera lens instead of carting a load of redundant fishing tackle along while I do the same through binoculars. If you're not catching fish then you're not fishing, you're birdwatching.

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Spring has sprung

Out and about last week photographing birds I spied some rudd cruising in a small pond. They were only tiny but fired me up to venture forth after tench again - especially as the nights were warming up.

Look closely and there are rudd in the pic

Finding the time to get away for two nights, to make the fuel costs more bearable, wasn't easy and I decided to chance a Sunday evening to Tuesday morning stint. On arriving at the lake the area I fancied was occupied but there was plenty more to go at with the rest of the lake vacant.

It was more than springlike as I pushed the laden barrow round to the west bank where I plumped to fish a cosy little suntrap which had produced tench for me in the past. Unusually my first job was to but the bivvy up, as much to get my gear under it and make space for me to move while plumbing and baiting up. Ordinarily setting up the bivvy is the last thing I do (unless it's raining), but seeing as I have yet to have a bite after dark my efforts were geared to activity the following morning.

The night was mild. No bunny suit required in the sleeping bag. To my great surprise, and greater pleasure, I wasn't troubled by rats during the night. A real bonus. However, I still had a fitful night having 'done my back in' once I had baited up and cast the rods out for the night. What caused this malady I don't know, but every time I moved I got a twinge.

As day slowly broke to the glorious cacophony of the dawn chorus I made a cup of tea before struggling out into the day to rebait the feeders and spod out some more hemp, groats and dead maggots. As the sun rose higher the sky cleared and well before noon it was t-shirt weather again. A light south-westerly wasn't enough to hide fish movements, but there were none to be seen.

Looking the part

The recent 'heatwave' had brought on a carpet of blanket weed, or filamentous algae, bright green stuff covering the lake bed whatever it is. A change of tactics was called for. The distant in-line maggot feeder was to be swapped to a heli-chod rig. I had to improvise by trapping an in-line feeder on a length of mono between two swivels as I had no standard feeders with me. [Note to self:  put some weighted black caps in the bag.]. The close in maggot feeder rig, at catapult range, had the bait swapped from three sinking plastic casters to three floating plastic maggots - in the hope they would hover above the green gunk, a tactic that has succeeded in similar conditions in the past.

My back was not improving and I contemplated packing in early while I could still walk without pain. Last year's bream session ended that way with me struggling to get out of the car and straighten up when I stopped for a break at the motorway services.

Evening calmed off but still now fish showed themselves -either on the surface or the end of one of my lines. There had been a couple of indications during the afternoon when a coot discovered my bed of bait and the bright orange tutti frutti pop up on the method feeder rig.

I idly amused myself as the almost-full moon rose by watching the clouds of midges forming into vertical columns. Odd how people wax lyrical about the whirling formations of starlings yet never mention midges doing similar things in the air.

Marvellous midges

The second night was calm and bright - and pleasantly ratless. With no cloud cover the temperature fell, but still not enough to warrant the bunny suit. A hot water bottle might have helped as my back got worse as I feared it would. In the morning I really did struggle to get myself upright. Once I had I dutifully rebaited and recast I slumped back in my pit and fell asleep again. Fishing like that, casting out and waiting, doesn't seem to work for me with tench. But I simply couldn't face the effort of continual feeder filling and recasting. I was hardly fishing at all, just waiting until the day had dried out the condensation inside the bivvy.

At ten I started to tidy the gear away. Doing so must have loosened something up as my back began to feel freer and the painful twinges abated. By the time I had barrowed everything back to the car I almost had a spring in my step. Almost... Such is life when you aren't as young as you think you are I suppose.

I doubt I'll find the time for another two-nighter for a week or more. So Plan B will have to swing into action. A plan that doesn't involve tench!

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Still a chill

Sunshine, birdsong, catkins. Yet when the clouds hid the sun the touch too much of north and east in the wind made it plain that summer was still a way away. It was still a lovely day to be by the water, hoping for a tench to  show up, but great to be out and being refreshed by some angling therapy. This was my first session of the spring, the one where I go as much to see what I've forgotten as to catch some tench. In truth I don't find the tench fishing really kicks off until the hawthorn is in bloom, and even driving south it isn't yet in full leaf.

 A sign of spring

I also had three new rods, three new reels and  a new pod to try out. One item of new tackle is the kiss of death for a successful session, so all that lot meant I was destined to blank. Doomed, in fact, as I had forgotten what is possibly my most important piece of kit - my lucky spoon. Never am I as disheartened as when I leave my lucky spoon behind when taking the stove to brew up on. It's nothing special. It's just been with me for years and years. Not quite as long as my lucky forceps (which I no longer use but always have in my rucksack) which I've had since the 1970s and have left on the bank, and found the following day,  twice.

Multiple new-tackle-jinx

Although the rods and reels weren't tested by fish they did the casting and retrieving things well. The 4000D Baitrunners are lovely and smooth. I thought I might not get on with the baitrunner lever operating the opposite way to all my other baitrunners, but it was not a problem. The anti-reverse lever is rather small, and that will take more acclimatisation for me to be able to knock it off to backwind.

The 1.75lb Torrixes coped with the 50g maggot feeder and the method feeder, even with the crosswind blowing. I have a niggling suspicion they might be just a tad too stiff in the butt for my taste for playing tench. But the only way to prove a rod is with a decent fish on the end of the line, so that test is yet to come.

I'm not generally a fan of Fox tackle, although they do have some well designed products which are sometimes let down by the construction, falling apart easily. I hope the pod proves to be one of their robust items. The design suits me really well. It's easy to set up and get level, and (although not designed this way) I can fit it with Korum banksticks to enable me to raise the rod butts high enough to get the tips close to the water when fishing from a raised platform. My fear is that the cams which lock the uprights flap around when there is no stick on the slot for transportation. Not a problem for tackle tarts who have special pod bags, but for lazy gits like me who stuff their pod in the rod sling it might lead to accidental damage.

The fishing was slow. Nothing happened. A carp, maybe two, head and shouldered well out. That was it as far as fish activity went. The rest of my time was spent watching bees and trying to identify distant, and elusive, birds - probably warblers. Warblers always confuse me.

By the time the sun started to set I was wishing I'd packed the bunny suit. That chill makes me think I'll leave the tench alone for at least another week. I have got my fishing head back on though.

Broadland dredging

I have never fished the Norfolk Broads, and probably never will, however it has a long history in pike fishing and has in the past been an inspiration to me. For decades it has been blighted by fish kills brought on by outbreaks of prymnesium, which releases toxins fatal to fish when it dies, and massive fish kills have resulted. Seemingly pike are more susceptible than other species and pike stocks have collapsed after each outbreak.

There is a threat of another, man-induced, outbreak in the near future. I urge you all to read the excellent appraisal of the situation in Michael Hasting's latest blog post. This appears to be a prime example of fish and anglers taking low priorities to other wildlife and recreational interests, with neither the country's main conservation body (Natural England) nor the Broads Authority listening to any of the anglers warnings. If fish die it doesn't matter because nobody sees them. It'll be a different story when the rotting corpses are floating around.

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Close season

I don't hold much store in the close season as such. It's far too arbitrary in its timing for my way of looking at things. Nonetheless I usually take a break once the rivers shut. The nights are still a bit cool for me to want to sleep out, and the tench haven't woken up fully - and certainly not reached their peak weights. Besides, tench fishing is about warm mornings with a mist rolling over a mirror calm lake. Well, something like that. My usual break is a couple of weeks, but this time round I think I'll be waiting until Easter is out of the way before dusting down the bivvy and doss bag. Especially as winter is predicted to make a return this week...

Spring sunshine

There are definite signs of spring now, buds in the hedgerow, birds getting amorous, stuff like that. And the clocks have gone forward ridding me of my winter lethargy brought on by dark evenings. For once I'm putting my time to good use and have done some tidying of my vast estate. I'd let part of the garden go to nettles and have looked at it many a time thinking it needed clearing. What I needed was a reason to do it. Creating somewhere to photograph birds provided it. How long this new-found interest will last is anybody's guess. But it's fun at the moment, and quite like fishing in many ways. You need to understand the birds habits, read their body language and time your 'strike' to get a good shot. It's also as dependent upon the weather as fishing can be. In the case of photography it's all about light.

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