Avon Roach, Barbel and Pike — Tunnel Vision

Martin hasn't got over it. Fishing the Wye with Trefor West and Joe Chatterton, he hooked but then lost what all agreed was a huge pike and according to Martin, taking his hands off the steering wheel and making shapes in the air, one with "a head this big". He has my sympathy. I once lost a pike at Bury Hill with a head that size. After 20 minutes of fraught battle and with the fish just starting to tire, the hook hold failed. It happens to us all from time to time...

'The one that got away'.

I love such stories. Angling would not be what it is without them. What is interesting is that I have lost large chub and barbel, pike, perch and zander and desirable specimens of every other species, but have never lost a large roach in my career. In fact I cannot recall ever losing a roach of any size once hooked, though I know I must have on occasion. 

On arrival at the banks of the Wark's Avon we encounter one that didn't get away. A carp captured, killed and mutilated by an otter. Interesting that they devour only the protein packed liver and kidneys leaving the carcass behind for the buzzards and the carrion crows.  This carp weighed probably four pounds but just a quarter of a pound of meat was eaten and so each otter must kill a lot of large fish in order to survive on such small portions. I wonder how many gross pounds of fish they must kill for their net daily rations?

I have no personal grudge against them. How can you blame a creature for doing what it must? But I think if we are to coexist peacefully then numbers must be carefully monitored and culls instigated when and if those numbers rise beyond the capacity of a watercourse to support them without decimation of stocks. I know that nature lovers would recoil in horror at such a proposal, but this island is an entirely managed landscape from coast to coast without one square inch of wilderness between.

Mother Nature cannot be left to her own devices here, I'm afraid.  

Not a wilderness

I've decided to go roaming from swim to swim where I'll flick bread and maggots about, see what I find in the way of roach. Martin will squat in just the one for barbel, chub and predatory fish. It doesn't really work out for me. The smaller species do not seem to be active. Bites are curiously hard to find and when they come are non-committal, and so I manage a few gudgeon, but dace and roach are nowhere to be found. Even small perch aren't bothering the grubs. It is most frustrating.

But then the rod is very nearly pulled in the water. Something really worthwhile has taken a bunch of maggots and greedily. I think it must be a trout by the lively fight which tests the light roach rod to its very limits. But it's a baby barbel!

I never expect to catch them this size and I'm always fooled into thinking, 'trout' whenever I do. The Avon does have a few here and there, but I've never had one yet. One day I might be fooled correctly!

Martin is getting what he set out for with braces of barbel and chub and a pike to his credit. Nothing spectacular but encouraging. I struggle to catch anything but gudgeon. And that's very discouraging. Of course there are those who'd blame such a lack of bites on cormorants swearing they'd cleaned the river of all small fish but that just isn't true. They are here in their millions but for some reason they are just not feeding while the larger ones are. Perhaps it's the known presence of an otter that is to blame, and when Martin calls and reports sighting a dog right under his staging, then perhaps there's a little truth in that.

Whatever the truth it seems I'm bound to fail. After last week's great success with roach I was cautious about being too gung ho about my prospects today. But I didn't expect to fail so dismally. 

We round off the day with a single chub to my rod and further pike and barbel to Martin's. Last week may have been all about 'yours truly', but today was all about 'the big guy'. 

Perhaps I should have changed tack and fished for barbel for once... 

But where roach are concerned I do suffer terrible tunnel vision! 

Crucian Carp — After Noon

Crucian carp are one of those fish that are fairly easy to find round here. Perhaps I should say that fisheries that contain them are not that uncommon. They live in many local ponds and lakes. Catching them however, is another matter. These venues are not at all like Harris Lake at Marsh Farm where you can fish for crucians specifically. Their bites being very easy to differentiate from those arriving from their main competition, which is tench. All you have to do there is strike at every little indication — tench will pull the float straight under. There's no problem seeing which is which.

A tip off from a local angler fishing the canal put me onto a new prospect. A local free pond where just because it looks as if it should hold them I've tried for them once or twice, but unsuccessfully. He mentioned having caught one to his surprise whilst enjoying a day's general fishing. Asking what kind of size it was he opened his hands and indicated a length that I reckon would be about 2lb, depending on body shape. 

So I went over with a rod hoping to find one for myself. Unfortunately, because the venue is free to fish, not cared for as a fishery should be, and not fished very often, it was choked with weed and so there were just two viable swims open. Before setting off I'd noticed a wind knot in the hook length but forgot all about retying before commencing fishing. It cost me the only bite of the short session when what was certainly a small carp pulled the float straight under, snapping the weak spot under little strain.

I do think it worth a very early morning return soon, and to a swim prebaited the night beforehand to get the fish out of that weed and into the clear. Seems like a plan to me.

My next effort was at Monks Pool in Bulkington. This would be an entirely different prospect. I have caught a crucian there but just the one. It was taken on a prawn intended for perch in early springtime. They are rarely caught because no-one ever tries for them at Monks. All anyone seems to care for are its king carp. It is full of all kinds of species, though. Millions of individuals. Most present in every swim. And therefore crucian bites are impossible to tell from any other. 

I don't think I arrived quite early enough. It was a warm morning and bound to get even warmer later. That would mean after noon it would probably turn into an endless round of arm wrenching tussles with sub double-figure carp. I was not to be proven wrong... 

First swim I managed small rudd and roach, hybrids, perch and bream on both prawn and corn. Moving about I caught more of the same and gudgeon too. No crucians though, and no signs of them either. Of course I knew at some point there'd be carp crashing the party. So I rigged up a barbel rod and flicked out a piece of free-lined crust just to have the first caught by design. It wasn't in the water longer than three minutes before it was engulfed by a pair of rubbery lips attached to 8 pounds of muscle. 

After that three minute knockabout I went back to my float fishing. I'm thinking 8lb would suffice for still-water carp points — I'm probably not going to camp out in hope of a twenty at any point unless it be down the river or the cut. But carp were beginning to show themselves all round the lake by eleven and I just dreaded the thought of getting attached to an endless series of them on a three-pound bottom with all the attendant hassle of re-tying new hook lengths. Then of course, the float zipped away and a small carp stripped twenty yards of line from the spool in seconds. 

Here we go...

It took a little while to tame but was netted and without breakage. Clearly the old bulk spool of 3lb Sensor in my bag was still serviceable and my tying of the spade-end fine-wire B911 up to scratch. But then a swim move brought a proper problem. I'd trickled mashed prawn into the reedy margins of a quiet corner where I'd not seen carp movement, then plopped the baited hook amongst it hoping for a delicate little lift of the antennae to strike at. 

Which I got...

At first I really did think I'd hooked my target because it felt like a two-pounder of one species or another. But then the fish, that clearly had no idea it was actually hooked, became heavier and heavier and heavier. After about fifteen minutes of guiding the fish around in circles in an attempt to tire it, the float appeared and then the shot, and then the huge tail paddle of a carp the like of which I'd thought this lake did not hold. For a while I really thought it was a twenty-pounder. But in the murky water I wasn't sure. 

Very risky short line hook and hold tactics in play. Kept it out of the reeds though...

I didn't see it again for another twenty minutes. I don't think I'd actually tired it much — bored it more likely — but it had begun wallowing. Which was a good sign. I thought I might actually net it eventually if the hook-length could stand the strain of my trying to get it up in the water more often than it was down on the deck.

When I'd managed that I began to see the fish more frequently and it was clear it wasn't quite so large as thought, but still, it was obviously into double-figures so it was well worth being careful with. I netted it (and it only just fitted in the frame) only when I had it make the mistake of coming in close and high at the same time. If I hadn't teased the lump into that position, I might have been at it all day long! 

It was thirteen-pounds nine-ounces and quite a handsome mirror. But was nigh an hour in the beating! 

Because I rarely fish for carp specifically these days, it is the largest I have caught since August 2008 when I was lucky enough to catch a 15lb river fish. I was dead chuffed with this capture. Really pleased. And very impressed with my entire outfit which had coped with a fish it wasn't really built to tame without ever feeling near breaking point. It feels balanced and correct. Forgiving but man enough to fight well above its weight. And that's nice to know when I might encounter a canal carp I cannot afford to lose when fishing for silver bream or roach.

And therefore I'll do something I have never done before and endorse the lot...

Rod: Korum Neoteric XS 11ft Power Float — Feels capable, absorbs lunges perfectly. First proper test of this rod.

Reel: Korum CS 3000 — Predictable smooth clutch without sticky spots, Again, performance when it really mattered.

Main line: Daiwa Sensor 5lb — Cheap and reliable. Doesn't seem to go off with age if kept in the dark.

Hook length: Daiwa Sensor 3lb — Ditto

Float: Drennan Glow Tip Antennae (2 No1) — A peerless float without equal for the lift bite method. Think the larger sizes better for general use. This was the smallest version I think. 

Shot: Dinsmores Super Soft — Does not damage light lines.

Hook: Kamasan B911 (barb-less spade-end fine-wire) size 12 — Holds fish of all sizes without complaint. Surprisingly strong for such a lightweight hook.
Hook tying tool: Stonfo. — Ties super strong knots to spade ends with little effort once the technique is learned. Five turns is best. More or less than five makes for a weaker knot. 

One of the uncommonly encountered  fully-scaled mirrors. Lean and wiry. Like a wildy in many ways.
By far the toughest scrapper I encountered through the day and actually the fairest test of the tackle

After that it was one carp after another and wherever I tried I simply could not avoid them. I think I banked another five or seven. I can't remember quite. I got so used to playing these fish in by degree that I entertained myself by taking selfies mid-fight. Not something I would attempt when playing barbel!

My day concluded with earnings of forty odd points and a climb of another couple of notches up the scoreboard into a comfortable 7th place. Not bad work. I only got my license a month ago and was at the very bottom in last place not so very long before. More importantly, though, this challenge sees me fish with burning desire, zeal and passion. I really do want to do well at it. It feels good to try hard but work harder.

It even feels good to catch carp again...

Every now and then, I might add!

Lords of the Piscine Punyverse — Whore's Drawers (Pt 5)

You never know with rivers what you're gonna get. Last week I had to wait ages for it to come down to acceptable conditions and then when it was good to go was forced to fish bank-high, mucky water, within the hour. Of course I thought I'd not get back for days but next morning was amazed to find the water not only flowing moderately but perfectly coloured once more. I guess that a localised heavy downpour in the very north of the catchment had put a great deal of water in very quickly, but the ambient precipitation over its entirety had been as low as I'd experience on the bank.

Seems good theory to me. Usually heavy rain up here means a sudden influx of dirty grey water from the great swathe of asphalt that is the M6 motorway, 640,000 square metres of which drains into the river extremely efficiently and often too quickly for comfort. Imagine how much salt finds its way in during wintertime... But the rising water had been brick red which means that it originated directly from the red sandstone agricultural plough soils found a little way upstream, but from not the M6 in any great amount.  

The Sowe. Up and down like the proverbial...

Anyways... Such perfect water meant I had to go fishing. And this time I felt I was in with half a chance of actually catching what I'd originally set out for, which was not simply fish — but data. 

So I sat down in the serene seclusion of the dell of the pool and fished the gentle swirling eddy currents, hopeful for those gudgeon I'd originally wanted to find but content to catch minnows and bullheads if they didn't show. Because they had now become the subject of my own project — a record of them and comprehensive enough to create valid charts from. 

Luckily the minnows were all too eager to feed and the jam jar was filled in short order with the first eight. Out came the quantification tackle, their vital statistics were jotted down, and they were released downstream so they wouldn't bite twice. 2 bullheads and 19 minnows were recorded in total. More than enough to flesh out the middling weight bracket for the minnow chart but very small fish were very hard to catch and none of the largest came close to the big fish I'd had on the first day who is looking to be something of a lucky capture.

Click to enlarge

What was fascinating was the weight variation between fish of near equal length. I'd never noticed it before, I mean you wouldn't, would you? A minnow is a minnow. Well, the British Standard Minnow is not the useful unit you might think it to be. The third smallest at 72mm for 4.5 grams, was just 2.2mm shorter than a fish weighing an astonishing 7.2 grams. That's an enormous difference, and I think larger than the kind of weight variation you might get between equal length cock and hen tench just prior to spawning. But minnows spawn in May and June, not February and March, so there's just a huge difference in girth between fish the year round, I guess. Come June 16th, sexing minnows will be easy because of the male's vibrant mating garb at that time. Right now it is not easy so I couldn't say whether the short and the fat, the long and the lean, were either girls or boys. 

The trend line produced by the spreadsheet is polynomial. It attempts to strike a balance between all data points therefore it will change with each new addition and in time stabilise. There's no data before the smallest, between the largest and second largest, and none after. Hence the hills and valleys and without an end point as yet, the upward whip after the largest fish. The start of the curve will be very steep with almost all fish species because they grow long in the first spurt of growth but weigh relatively speaking, very little. For instance, the six-inch roach pictured above who was caught after two bullheads but before the minnows, weighed exactly two ounces. A seven incher won't weigh very much more, perhaps three ounces or maybe four. A roach of 12 inches, though, can weigh as little as a pound but as much as a pound and a half. However, a roach three times as long as that little six-inch blade will set a new British record. That is why the trend line flattens out as weight rises. As fish mature, extra inches in their skeletal length and at great size, fractions thereof, mean absolutely everything in terms of the potential weight of flesh their frame might carry.

Which brings me neatly to the British record for minnow...

Mark Wintle has stepped in and clarified the situation. It really was 13.5 drams after all and not 13.5 grams as I (and Dr Everard) once thought. A simply huge minnow, the like of which seemed unimaginable to my boggling mind. Turns out that because of the data I've compiled so far with the addition of those fish known to have been larger than my best specimen so far, that it might be quite possible after all. Of course, Dr Everard's fish is included in the chart above, but Mark supplied a minnow of his own caught many years ago and weighed accurately on beam scales at 10.5 drams (18.6 grams) and an estimated 4.5 inches in length. The chart agrees with the accuracy of his estimation, I'd say. I've also added Russel Hilton's recent capture measured at 104mm in length but not weighed. My weight estimate for it is conservative. I don't know how fat it was but if similar in girth to my 102mm fish then it weighed approximately 14.6 grams. 

The length of the Spennymore record is also an estimation. So far as I know it was never measured. However, it's not just speculation and not so great a thing to imagine now because the data set suggests that it would have been a believable, 130mm in length, not the ridiculous 170mm I first thought it had to be. The trend line won't allow it to be very much longer nor very much shorter if the fish was normal and not diseased.  I think ±10% a reasonable deviation in length from the norm at that great weight. But then again, if two near equal length small fish can differ so very much in weight then it might have been only as long as Mark's fish, but hugely fat... 

Who knows? 

And who cares?

These are minnows we're talking about here. A fish so commonplace and miniscule that you just can't take them seriously, can you?

From top to bottom — Spennymore, Everard, Sowe largest, Sowe average. (cm)

Lords of the Piscine Punyverse — Gonna Need a Bigger Jam Jar (Pt 4)

In pursuit of the river's elusive gudgeon, last weekend I went back to the scene of the previous week's less than successful mission in order to fish alternative swims. Rain was predicted early morning but it didn't arrive till I'd set off so I got a little time in before the water began to rise. I caught roach after roach, but no perch and no gudgeon either. After a couple of hours I was soaked and freezing and as bites begun to peter out, when I snagged up and lost a hook I called it a morning unwisely spent and went back home.

It took almost a full day for the water to peak and very nearly a week to subside back to normal winter levels (I didn't think so much water had fallen as actually had) but yesterday afternoon it looked just so. Unfortunately, I had work to do, so I postponed the planned session till this morning.

Knowing another brief band of rain was on the way by late morning I thought I'd have hours to play with before the extra water pushed levels up and forced me off but it came earlier than expected and had been falling for an hour or two when I finally got out the door. However, on arrival it looked good to me.

A nice bit of colour and an upbeat pace to the river reminded me of the day I'd caught the big minnow. They hadn't been there when it was low, slow and crystal clear, so I hoped they'd be back in residence now it was running a tad faster, deeper and dirtier.

I float fished the swim hoping it would lend better control than free-lining had and that was a good decision because I could have the tiny worm section bait trot down or have it amble about in the far bank slack. Just as well because that's where the bites were and I had three minnows for my trouble before bites became hard to find. But I failed to catch any of the size of the lumps I'd had the first time out.

Nevertheless, it was the first chance I'd had to accurately weigh and measure minnows. So I set to work on my recording of them just like a proper scientist would. You know. With due diligence... 

However, it's not that easy! The merest breath of breeze sets the scales to work recording the force of moving air and a drop or two of water makes for unacceptable inaccuracies recording such very low weights. The trick is to add a little water to the pan to avoid having them stick to dry plastic, then zero the scales, pick the fish up by the tail so that excess water drops away and place it carefully on the pan. Then, take a reading during a break in the wind!

Seriously, you could gauge the gust force of a fart with these things...

I have to say that they were very well behaved and didn't flap about at all once on the pan so they were very easy to measure with the pair of vernier dial calipers. The smallest came in at 5.25 grams with a length of 75.8mm, the middling one at 6.05 grams and 81.7mm, the largest at 6.25 grams and 83.3mm.

None were anywhere near so plump as my 104 mm giant who was a full 20mm longer than the best of the day, whose tail and head would both overhang the pan's diagonal measurement of 100mm, and who weighed at least double that of the smallest and perhaps double the largest too. It  struck me looking at them swimming about in the jam jar that a fish any larger than Her Majesty would not fit in it with comfort...

But these today were ones that fit such a jar well. Your ordinary common or garden minnows.  Not those you'd write blogs about unless you were desperate!

I don't care, nor do I feel in any conceivable way, desperate. These fish are interesting and as I'm discovering the smaller they are the more challenging they are to catch and quantify. “You can’t just drop in somewhere and expect to get a little fish, you know” said the legendary Dennis Flack. And he was right. They take just as much time and effort to find and catch as any other specimen of any species would.

But then I felt my feet were wet and saw I was standing in the reed bed under four inches of water. The rain had caught me out once more and it was time to move on up to the pool where I spent a little more time in hope. But it was hopeless there. The water had risen a full six inches in one hour and was going to peak another foot higher later in the day. Though I had one small bullhead from the churning brick red water, minnows had ceased feeding long ago and so I went home defeated by the weather yet again.

Lords of the Piscine Punyverse — On Yer Bike (Pt 3)

Having lost my minnows, not yet found my gudgeon, and more than a little concerned about catching bullheads for the hell of it, I was at a loss to explain to myself where next to try.

Because I'd only ever seen gudgeon once and then amongst a mixed shoal of roach and perch, because such shoals are typical for the northern reaches of this small river, and because I know where such shoals can be found, therefore, revisiting known haunts armed with worms might well get me what I wanted. Hoping that this genius thought process would send me all the way to the bright lights, elegant bistros, wine bars, and intellectual chatter of the art houses of uptown Gobions Reach... 

I got on my bike and went downstream in earnest.

The river looked good. A nice tinge of green from the previous night's brief rain meant that natural cover was over their heads and therefore things should go according to plan. Straight off the bat I had bites and fish too. Roach, then perch, then roach, and then perch. None large enough to warrant much attention but very pretty all the same. My worms were all the rage. Bites a'plenty.  

But there were no gudgeon. Nor were there minnows. Bullheads in very short supply. I'd heard that they don't like to be disturbed. Liking their rocks so much they'll live under one alone and for an entire lifetime only going out on the town once a year to meet and seduce a mate, shag, the bloke tending the resulting eggs while the bird presumably continues her flirtations, and when it's all over he'll abandon the offspring, go home and put his fins up, popping round the corner shop for a caddis and shrimp paella ready-meal every now and then.

If you catch one and return it anywhere far from its abode apparently it'll be accosted and mugged  by other pugnacious fellows defending their personal kingdoms, and be likely killed. I don't know what 'anywhere far' means for a bullhead. I suppose safe means ten feet or less, because they are very small fish and eleven feet is a long and perilous swim home through the dark, dingy and downright dangerous environs found in the downtown quarter of Millers Thumb Lane.

To be honest I didn't expect worms to fail me. Almost all the fishing I've conducted downstream has been with bread baits and very successful it has been with roach up to a pound and a quarter and often multiple catches of pound plus fish. Bread will take gudgeon on occasion, but I never saw one. I did fish worms once in high summer but I was stalking individual perch that day. Fish I could see quite clearly and cast to. I had loads. I think I caught every one I saw plus the pike who attacked those I'd hooked. Again, the perch reach a pound and a quarter just like the roach. It seems to be the ceiling weight for such a small watercourse.

Worms were not nearly so selective of the larger roach as bread had always been and I was surprised how many small roach I was catching. I don't know if it was the tinge of colour in the water that made them so easy. I'd always assumed they didn't like worms because that day I'd caught all the perch in the entire stretch, the accompanying roach whose numbers trebled those of their stripy shoal mates, wouldn't go near them. 

Hopping swim to swim I wound up on a corner pool that I'd never fished successfully. Again, plenty of bites but these were timid ones that I hoped might be from minnows. I could not hook them. I thought that encouraging and so I cut the bait size right down in an attempt to snare one. What I got was a slew of small roach and even smaller perch, but then hooked what was clearly a much larger fish. 

Against a featherweight rod the fish in this river fight really hard and so I didn't see it clearly for a time. You can't easily bully them up and till they tire they race up and down, here and there. Sometimes when hooked they'll leave the water in surprise. They really are worthy opponents and give it their all. When I did see it, I thought it was a perch because it wasn't flashing bright silver flanks as roach would. But it was a roach after all. And one of the very oldest residents I'd say because its scales had that peculiar quality that on big rivers ancient two-pounders might acquire. Not so bright and clean as a youth's clear complexion. And despite the fact that its fins were in absolutely mint condition, its armour plating was kind of gnarly.

I didn't quantify the old girl, but I guessed a pound or so. 

I do like to catch roach of this size (and who doesn't)? But on this occasion I couldn't help feeling that she was something of a consolation prize for failing to find those fish I'd ventured out for. 

I guessed the absence of gudgeon, minnows and bullheads might have had something to do with the substrate of sandy silt and the sluggish flow not suiting them well where the graded gravels of the swifter upstream waters suited better. But I honestly don't know. I only began fishing seriously for these tiddler species a few short weeks ago and though I'm learning every day, I'll freely admit I know next to nothing about their habits and their habitats.  

Maybe it'll take years to acquire knowledge of them, but by end of season I hope to have plenty enough errors and hopefully few enough successes under my belt to approach an understanding of sorts. 

Lords of the Piscine Punyverse — Confusion Reigns! (Pt 2)

When I got home last week I was chilled to the marrow but quite excited by the unfolding drama I'd experienced.  It had warmed my heart catching such tiny fish by design but those surprisingly large minnows really had set my fishing soul on fire. Setting to work composing a blog, I wrote it up in an hour or so, edited pictures, inserted them and hit the 'publish' button. I thought my minnow interesting but not seriously exceptional. Some considerable way short of the 13.5 dram record, it was big, but not huge.

But I then practiced what I always do after chance discoveries that lead me into hitherto unknown realms, and that is to go into deep delving mode and search Google for every permutation of words about the subject matter I can think of — because it's all out there somewhere, if only you have the patience...

There's wasn't a lot out there on minnow fishing, it has to be said. But then I stumbled across Dr Mark Everard's 2005 capture of a record breaking minnow that was claimed as such according to Mail Online ~

"This was caught by design and is a legitimate British record," he said. "It weighed 15 grams — anything under a pound has to be weighed in grams."

Dr Everard has contacted the British Record Fish Committee, based in Devon, who are to verify the record.

The previous record minnow was caught in Spennymoor, County Durham, and weighed 13.5 grams.

So I went to the official BRFC listings updated in January of this year, where I discovered that his claim had not been ratified, or if it had, then the list had not been updated to include it because the old 1998 record still stood so far as it was concerned. And then I noticed a problem... 

Was the 13.5 gram record in fact 13.5 drams? Dr Everard didn't seemed to think so at the time and the committee seemed to agree according to the Daily Mail. So I went back to the BRFC list where it does not have the record for minnow expressed in grams but in fractions of an ounce. It says quite clearly, 13.5 dms / 0.024 Kilo (24 grams).

Perhaps that's why his claim does not appear? Maybe the original record was deemed correct at 13.5 drams after all and his claim discounted. But, I really don't think a minnow can achieve that weight. Based on the lengths and weights of my fish (14.2 grams and 10.2 cm length) and Dr Everard's too (15 grams and 11.4cm) my initial projections say it would have been something in the order of 7 inches in length (17.8cm) to have attained such enormity, That's about the length of Dr Everard's entire hand from finger tip to wrist.

Can you stretch your imagination so very far that it can picture my minnow with a body the size of a Swiss Army Knife, and then make the enormous leap of faith required to believe in one with a body the size of a Stanley Knife?

You can't do it, can you?

Well, I know I can't...

The record has to be a plausible 13.5 grams. In which case...

Dr Everard's fish wasn't worthy of close attention, ergo, it does not matter that my minnow was worthy of a record claim either. Where would I have got a witness anyhow? Some hapless dog walker accosted by a bearded wild-eyed madman in tweed coat asking for phone number and address in a public park in broad daylight wielding a strapping minnow in his filthy dirty hand!

I had put her back to the water without regret so I cannot be regretful in hindsight. She was only a minnow... But what a minnow she was! I couldn't help wondering if there were others that size down there and perhaps even larger still. I mean, you do wonder these things, don't you? Well, I do when only tenths of a gram shy of a record! And so I found myself having to get a set of scales to do justice to the job because my trusty dace set may do a sterling job of low ounces but had proven impossible to use effectively around the half-ounce notch when the lightest form of weighing sling possible had to be reckoned with too.

Mick Newey kindly donated a set of Salter diet scales (what minnow-sized morsels these pernickety dieters must eat!) Sensitive enough to weigh the tiny worm itself, they seemed just the thing. Properly armed with those plus a pair of vernier calipers, notebook with pencil (ink hates water) to jot the details on and a large jam jar pilfered from the spice shelf in our galley kitchen in which I'd retain specimens (didn't want them spooking the shoal on return, you understand...) I set off to do battle with Their Majesties once again.

Of course, first port of call was the swim fished last week from whence the minnows had arisen where I got to catch its bullheads instead. Hey ho, they'll do for starters! Out came the kit and the fish were put under close scrutiny. Largest went 11.35 gms and was 85mm in length. Smaller than last week's best though...

I saw three hand-sized roach under the brambles (in the picture above, if you can spy them) who refused worms point blank, but perhaps the water was too clear for minnows who were probably hiding themselves away from aerial predators. I did catch three more tiny bullheads each a third the size of the earlier specimen and then two miniscule perch the size of the kind of minnows I was after before I had to move along. Realising that the minnows were not catchable from this swim today, if indeed they hadn't moved out because I saw none at all, the pool upstream seemed best bet.

More bullheads were what it gave up. None of any size though. I couldn't see them being so well camouflaged against the gravely bottom but could witness the worm vanish and the shot drag away as they scuttled back to bolt holes under the rocks and stones with their prizes. I didn't see a single minnow there.  Though the swim usually holds many hundreds. As for gudgeon, the species of fish I'd originally set out for. Well, they didn't show either and so I went home none the wiser with James and Brian short on data and myself with a big fat minnow of a problem to solve.

Where had they gone? To shallow rapid water where the shimmering ripples might hide them from view? Downstream to deeper and slower territory where they might vanish beneath the gloom?

Who knows!

But I intend to find them out.

Lords of the Piscine Punyverse — Revelation (Pt 1)

Reading of James Denison and Brian Robert's recent exploits with the big gudgeon of the London chalk streams reminded me that I once saw a gonk every bit as large as their captures in the river ten minutes from home, and perhaps larger still...

It was high summer when I last took a walk down there. A bright sunny day this and with gin clear water flowing it was an excellent opportunity for spotting fish so I was hoping to find the roach and perch who'd occupied a certain swim in early springtime. A narrow glide of smooth water no more than three feet in width flanked with high reeds and overhanging brambles far bank, it was just a little deeper than elsewhere nearby and the cover provided seemed to make the perfect lie for such a small shoal.

I found them again just where they'd been before and their number had increased encouragingly. So I crouched down quietly in the tall green stems with a long stick to make an observation gap with when I noticed another species had joined them. There were three gudgeon rooting about. The usual size, nothing remarkable. They were an interesting addition, though, because I'd never paid much attention to the species before but now found their habits fascinating. And then, out of nowhere, came a monster twice the size of the others...

I overbalanced in shock, and very nearly fell in! 

The fish was astonishing. Truly a Lord of the Piscine Punyverse

Today I thought I'd join James and Brian in their mission to compile data for a useful graph Brian is in process of creating showing the length/weight relationship of Gobio gobio. Having made such graphs myself a while back I find such stuff fascinating for all kinds of reasons, not least of which is that of them predicting the maximum possible weight for certain species of fish for the river, the country, and ultimately, the world.  So, I set out with the intention of catching gudgeon of any size, but really, I was hoping to catch that very big fish I'd seen.

I took along a precision 2lb capacity spring balance in half-ounce divisions to weigh them with, a gnat-weight plastic bag to weight them in, and a metal ruler to gauge them against. I wanted to be precise about it because such data has to be that or the graph produced really doesn't mean a thing when you're a quarter of an ounce light or heavy or a quarter inch short or long. And the smaller the species the truer that becomes.

I started out not in the intended swim but a deeper pool a little way upstream. What I hadn't bargained for was for the first fish caught to be not gudgeon who peak at five ounces but bullhead who peak at one. It was too small to bother measuring. Certainly no larger than any I'd caught before. 

However, the next was a larger one but still not worth measuring. Then I had a minnow, and another, and another. I had two at once — one on the hook, the other on the worm's tail! All the usual size, though. Nothing to get excited about. 

The third bullhead was worth measuring and came in at 9.5 cm (3 3/4 inches) in length and a massive 2.9 cm across the head. I estimated it weighing about a third of ounce because it was not nearly as long as a corpse I'd taken home in summer and weighed with great care at exactly half an ounce. However, the fish was actually my personal best by some margin so I was very pleased with it. 

I then lost quite a large minnow. Then another about the same size too before the bites dried up. Quite miffed‚ actually. They looked big fish to my eyes...

At the reedy glide I was a little concerned to find it flowing with a little too much pace for my liking and two or three feet wider now the encroaching vegetation had died hard back. 

I didn't think it looked very good for gudgeon but had a cast about anyhow. I did get bites, but these were proper ones more like those of perch or chublet than the tiny twangs of minnow or the indescribably subtle bites of bullhead. In came a very small perch. Then I lost similar so I thought my reckoning correct...

Just when I was about to leave not wanting perch that size on my hook with all the fiddly deep throat surgery that might involve, the tip flew round and in came the largest minnow I'd ever caught before. Quite an impressive fish. I measured her for the hell of it. 8.9 cm. I didn't try weighing her. But she was another personal best by at least a fingernail!

What happened next simply blew me away.

Having got used to catching very, very tiny fish across the last two hours and measuring them when they seemed measurable, the world itself had become very, very small indeed and that made very, very small things seem very, very large!

I struck a full blooded bite that moved the tip the enormous distance of one half-inch, when up from the water came what I first believed was a good sized bullhead, only to find a great fat minnow dangling in front of my popping eyes.

Minus her tail she had a body the size of a Swiss Army Knife! Plus her tail she was 10.2 cm long. As thick as my index finger across her back and fat in the belly, she was a giant the like of which I'd never seen.

Of course I weighed her... Because I had to!

Blimey, what a job that was. For the first time ever I really wished I had (God forbid!) a set of digital scales. Kitchen scales. You know? Purpose built for weighing out tiny accuracies of dead expensive shit like ambrosia and nectar, white truffle and saffron. Ones just like those Brian has found he must use for gudgeon, in fact. Because she went clearly half an ounce but a tiny, tiny, incalculable bit more. 

I gave her nine drams and then gave up trying!

Nevertheless, my nine-dram minnow is a great big minnow. A really huge one. The record stands at 13.5 drams (and how it was weighed is anyone's guess, but I bet it was fun!) and that's a a seriously big minnow. But one that's only 4.5 drams (less than a quarter-ounce) more which is about the size of one of your ordinary minnows...

She was also 66.666 recurring as a percentage of that record. A devilish beast! 

Gonks on the March

When I came up to the Midlands four years ago I started river fishing properly for the first time. I'd been living in Essex my whole life before but river fishing is not really something anglers do down there as the only 'decent' river available is the Lee (or Lea), which is certainly the most polluted and shamelessly abstracted chalk stream on the planet, and the upper reaches, where the monster chub are is too far Up North and besides, that's in the foreign country of Hertfordshire.

Holiday on the Wark's Avon, Day 3 - A Monstrous Intrusion

Day three of my ever diminishing challenge chances dawned and I was up on the point gunning after the curiously elusive bleak, as early as possible. There simply had to be some bleak somewhere in the mighty breadth of water out front, Kev had caught plenty of them last year right here and under the rod top, so they should be still be out there somewhere, surely?

Commercial Sense: Sunday Evening Feeding Frenzy

I didn't intend to fish casters at all but I'd managed to successfully turn 2 pints of red maggots into casters by accident. The two pints were in separate tins; one full of old maggots and one of freshly bought, but the old maggots had got wet so I left the top off overnight so that they'd dry out.

I forgot all about them...

And it rained the next day...!

Commercial Sense: 10 minus 1

That's how many species I caught today...

According to plan I should have been bagging up on at least one and hopefully three target species; those that would get me points on the fishing challenge scoreboard, but I'm afraid nothing ever runs 'according to plan' with me. In the end I actually did manage to score two points, only I scored them for species that I have already scored for...

Gudgeon Got

Keith picked me up on his way to Brookfields on Tuesday afternoon where he could have another crack at a brown goldfish point and I could gain a dead cert for the umble gudgeon.

After Whatever Comes...

Everything that happened today, would be at the very least, the first for some considerable time. I had grown up in Essex, lived all my life in the county and Essex is a county of trickles