The mist swirling and dancing across the surface of the river, grass crunching underfoot, the temperature barely getting above zero and a crystal clear river all baked in glorious sunshine. One of my favourite times of the year to be venturing forth in the great outdoors.
Not surprisingly the majority of action came my way but the bites were very finicky. The rod tip rattled, shook and bounced but several strikes met thin air before the culprits became apparent when I landed my first fish of the day in the form of a four ounce Dace.
After a couple of frustrating hours I finally slipped the net under the target species but it was no monster just a small two pounder. The very next cast resulted in a solid bite and following a spirited battle the scales registered a 4lb 9oz specimen. That was much more like the standard I was hoping for. The stretch we were fishing is known to produce the odd 'six', something I would dearly love to land.
Minutes later I heard the dulcet tones of the big guy in the next swim calling for assistance with a near double figure Pike he wanted landing. A short but stocky example of the perfect freshwater predator.
I managed to land one more decent Chub to give me a pleasing brace shot to finish with. We were confident of more sport but any chance of that was put paid to by a family of highly active Otters. A bit worrying as this is the furthest down river sighting I have heard of indicating they are moving to lower parts of the Avon dangerously close to some of my most prolific Barbel hunting grounds. We stood and watched in almost disbelief the streams of bubbles travelling up and down the near margin as they hunted their prey. Not good news in the slightest!!
|spot the Pheasant!|