The Hunt for Perch Begins

Wed. 31/08/11

Having spent the spring and some of the summer targeting carp, more of that later, I was keen for a change of scene.  I had grown weary of the inescapable commercialism of the carp world.  Oh, and my luck had run out!

By chance, I saw a couple of episodes of Catching the Impossible on the TV which contained some truly inspiring footage of perch.  It was a breath of fresh air to my soul, conjuring thoughts of bullrush lined river banks, disappearing floats and those enigmatic packs of stripy flanked hunters.  For several years I had a theory that a local river would be ideal habitat for large perch to reside, it was high time to give it a go.

With broken cloud overhead and the rush of the weir in the air, my float-fished maggots were swung onto the nearside crease, followed hastily by a pinch of loose-feed.  The orange tip ambled it's way with the flow for a short distance, then vanished from sight.  So it continued until enough bait fish - dace and bleak - had been caught for a few hours fishing.

The hook bait was lowered into the water next to a steep marginal drop off, the float beginning it's drunken dance.  Loose-fed maggots were introduced and before long a group of average sized perch were hungrily taking them, competing with the dace and bleak.  I decided to hold back the feed, it had done it's job, fish were active in the area.

The shoal of perch turned their attention to my hook bait, visible in the low, clear water.  Fascinating!  There were half a dozen perch, from 2 to 12 ounces approximately.  They proceeded to harry and hound the bleak, chasing and pecking it.  Perch are such an interesting species, using various methods to catch their prey.  Eventually, one of the larger fish took the bait, I struck but did not connect.  This was repeated a couple of times - exciting yet frustrating.

An hour or two passed by, uneventful, when the float sank with purpose.  Strike!  A fish was on.  The fight was typical perch, a quick dash for cover, then the usual nodding and head shakes.  The fish went into the landing net without fuss.  Not a monster, but a good start at about twelve ounces, the colours vivid in the late summer sunshine, stripes bold and fins red.

For the rest of the afternoon, I decided to explore above the weir, a deep, slow flowing stretch, with steep, weed fringed margins, punctuated with the occasional overhanging willow and small rush bed.

My bait was lowered into a deep, slow bay, tight against bank-side foliage.  Some time passed, before the float vanished, but the strike met thin air. I retrieved my rig which was missing a hook - a pike had obviously taken a fancy to my bait, biting through the nylon instantly.  I have no doubt the pike will rid itself of my barbless hook with no trouble at all.

Some more spots were explored, but to no avail.  I feel this section of river needs a different approach.  Either locating the bait fish then building a swim, or a highly mobile approach such as lure fishing to track down the perch.  An ambitious undertaking, but the rewards are surely there.  Another day perhaps.

Until next time, keep searching; the next bite could be the fish of your dreams.  D.