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.
Last time we came here both Keith and Pete had attempted a king carp point in the thick brick red coloured water of the pool at the middle of the complex of lakes that Brookfield offers but whilst they had waited for the carp to come on to feed, and I was up at the weedy lake cracking out a rudd point, they'd float fished maggots and both caught enough gudgeon for their challenge points. Apparently they were so easy that Keith estimated I'd need just half an hour to do it!

It was not so easy in stark reality. I couldn't buy a bloody bite! Then contemplated a move around the lake after my allotted half hour was up in my first choice swim. I thought perhaps that I was fishing too far off so I started fishing whip style, tight in the margins, where, I immediately found my quarry. Ah ha, this gudgeon fishing is just like surf fishing for bass then...

I propped the landing net with the mesh in the water and stored the fish in it to save getting the keep net wet — now that the float dipped and ducked every cast I thought I'd have the point soon enough, only I couldn't hit bites or hold fish that I did. I soldiered on for some time but was eventually driven to do what I should have done sooner...

A fresh hook made all the difference, only I then caught bleached out roach up to three quarters of a pound, fish that ordinarily I would have been pleased with but when chasing gudgeon for all you are worth, nothing but a blasted nuisance! I persisted. Every now and then I was rewarded with gudgeon and by dint of hard toil amassed a final toll of seven of the pretty little blighters before calling a halt to proceedings with what I considered more than enough for my point.

The net was ceremoniously hoist to weigh catch and take the required evidential shots, only to find that seventy percent of my precious fish had escaped through a hole in the net (took some finding) and leaving just a brace! I guess that the other members of the 'famous four' will just have to take my word, whatever it's now worth, for it...



A move was in order and I fancied having a crack at the top lake but stopped off to talk to Keith on the road up. He was having no luck with his brown goldfish but had a small koi carp whose brownness fooled us both into thinking it really was one, for a second...

Up at 'Top Pond' I spied a most promising swim just along from a chapter straight out of Mr Crabtree Goes Commercial - an old geezer and his grandson fishing in consecutive pegs. The grandson gave me a cheery "caught anythink mister?" as I passed him by. Of course, I replied that indeed I had, and wished him the very best of luck with the remainder of his day, in return.

I later found out that the venerable silver fox of the duo was none other than 'Merv,' an oft mentioned PIC of Keith's, who for some reason I have confused in my mind always with the Gov' of the Bank of England and a certain specialist in the 'game of arrows'...

I settled in and proceeded to fish maggots on the drop and tight to the reeds. And there caught bits.

At some point I decided to flick in a few crusts just to see if they would attract some rudd attention, as I had been catching some pretty decent specimens of that species up to half a pound or so, every now and then, on the marvelous but indiscriminate grub.

The crusts loitered around in the thick film for ages and ages before a sudden and rather meaningfully large boil of water below one piece announced that something down there was finally interested ~



I stopped fishing completely to see if I could just make out if it were carp that were doing it, in which case I had no further interest, or rudd, in which case I was taken...

D'ya know what, I think it were rudd of some considerable size that were doing it, but could I catch em?

Could I eck as like...!

The fish, whatever they were, were attacking the crust to break them down, not slurp them down whole as our greedy incautious friend the king carp would. I caught plenty of fish by having bread flutter tantalisingly downward upon a short leash of a foot or two, but all they were were hybrids, a skimmer or two, and some quite nice looking roach. No huge rudd though, even though I am still convinced that that was what they were.

A 'were were', and a 'that that' in the same paragraph. Has to be some sort of record, surely?

Anyways. This went on for ever — me watching big fish take crust off the surface and me not catching them until whatever they were, were well satisfied, and buggered off for good.

I had a load of black casters over from the previous week that in the gloaming I chucked in. These floated around for a while but twenty minutes in the fish population discovered them, then, all around the water began to boil like a kettle as the fish devoured each and every one.

I packed up, left them to it, and then went to talk to Keith in due process of failing to secure his elusive brown goldfish point...