11 foot of carbon feeder rod is probably not the most obvious choice of weapon for fending off a herd of inquisitive Bullocks but Steve thought it was. It worked for a while anyway.
The rain properly arrived this week and we had a difficult session on the Avon. The river was a few inches up and with that came a constant barrage of weed through the swim making delicate presentation an impossibility. We had decided to cover all the bases and I had a small Roach dead bait cast out for Zander on one rod, a lump of luncheon meat on another for Barbel and Steve also tried for the Zeds plus a maggot feeder for anything else that came along.
We arrived mid afternoon and it took quite a while for us to get the first fish, a Jack Pike of about 7lb to my Roach rod. Steve followed this up with a cracking Perch of about 12oz and then another a bit smaller. The heavens opened around 5pm and that seemed to slow the fishing down. Just as it was getting dark Steve had a big Dace at least half a pound.
It was my turn next and I landed a 4lb 6oz Zander which had ignored the deadbait, preferring the Luncheon meat instead, fishing is a funny old game!
As you can probably tell from my jacket that by this time we were soaked through. The thunder and lightning had started and we know bolts of electricity and lengths of carbon are not good bedfellows so it was time to call it a night.
The trek back to the van is across three fields, two of which now had skittish Bullocks in them due to the storm. The first field we gave our bovine friends a wide berth and they ignored us. The next field was darker and we did not see them until we were virtually upon them. This spooked them and they set off for a run. They ran across and behind us which was a tad scary with the lightning flashes to illuminate them. They then turned and followed us but thankfully slowly and at a distance. We reached the stile in record quick time, I leapt over it and just as Steve was about to follow a Deer jumped out of the trees and ran for it. He nearly died, one more shock would have finished him off. We then drove home in a spectacular storm, via the Oddfellows for a nerve calming ale of course.