Thursday, 31 March 2011

Silver Bream - Pond life - My Menagerial Hell

I'm being stalked by domesticated albinos and now, stock on the hoof...!

Last night I went fishing at the Pit Pool just to see if I could catch a bigger silver bream than my biggest example from the pond — a whopper of seven ounces or more — and had a terrible time of it. Things were progressing just fine with the swim building nicely and a healthy procession of small silvers, skimmers and roach coming to net, when I became aware of a living presence to my unprotected rear.

I looked around and was confronted with an eery sight — another (the second this month) albino great dane and a very young heifer (the first ever) standing stock still in the field a hundred yards distant and staring hard at me and Molly. I tried to ignore them (knowing full well that this was a problem that was coming my way and not going) but every time I turned back around they were ten yards nearer, but still, dead still...

Eventually they plucked up the confidence to come within ten yards and then all menagerial hell broke loose with Molly growling at the heifer, the great dane barking and lolloping straight over my poor rods, the heifer unperturbed by Molly's protestations and growing bolder and bolder by the minute, eventually moving in for the kill, snaffling my 'canal black' and nibbling a hole in my rod bag!

Throughout this hour of madness I managed to keep on fishing, and catching!

Eventually I wound up with two rods tangled together, the great dane bored and wandering off, Molly splashing about in the margins after her lost ball and the heifer refusing to leave the party.

Eventually, as if she'd heard a call, she turned on her hooves and made her way pretty sharpish back to the cattle shed. Thank Christ.

Then my trusty old tripod chair, the only thing keeping my derriere off the cold wet ground, collapsed beneath me.

For a round trip walk of six miles and half a pint of maggots I wound up with a net of very small fish, arse-ache, neck-ache and back-ache too after sitting on my tiny ground-bait bucket for the last two hours.

This morning I went to Lanes Tackle of Coventry and got myself a Diawa Wilderness combination rucksack/stool. It has capacious pockets in which I will stow, beside my usual fishing paraphernalia, a shock collar and a cattle prod.

Things can only get better...



  1. I hate fishing with cows around me!
    They are number three on my top five stupid cloven footed animals which I hate fishing near list, behind horses and steers. So I am with moll chase em off, we need our space ;)

  2. Um, horses don't have cloven hooves...