After the previous sessions success, my enthusiasm was on full tilt for more perch fishing. The forecast looked spot on, with a breezy yet largely overcast day predicted on Saturday. So it was, that I found myself on the weir pool again, fishing for bait. I didn't fancy the arduous task of tracking down the monsters above the weir yet, more confidence in my approach was needed.
Isn't it always the way, that you can never catch the perfect sized lives? They are always too small or two large. I was looking for silvers in the 4-5inch bracket, but I eventually had to compromise and kept a couple smaller and a couple larger, of dace and bleak.
The facing wind made proceedings a little less smooth, but eventually I had a bleak fishing near the drop-off. The procedure of feeding red maggots enticed a group of average sized perch to feed, but they were far less interested in my hookbait this time around. In addition, the bait fish managed to slip the hook from their top lip on more than one occasion, the risk of using a barbless hook. As such, it took six hours to get any real interest from a perch.
With steady feeding, I had encouraged a sizable shoal of bleak and dace to take residence on the crease, so confident were they that maggots would be nailed immediately they hit the water. The group of small perch seemed reluctant to rise as high as the silvers, who must have been constantly at the surface. I decided to fish my bait a little deeper, and lowered the bleak into the zone where the perch looked most comfortable.
As the sky thickened with leaden cloud, I noticed a couple of better perch - certainly over a pound - prowling along the top of the drop off. They looked well worth catching and they looked interested in something. It was like watching the riverine equivalent of a big cat stalking through the long grass, about to go in for the kill.
My float was yanked below the surface aggressively and the strike met a heavy resistance, punctuated by the knocks and bangs of vicious head-shakes. The fight was surprisingly energetic, putting my through action rod into an exciting curve, as the fish made a bid for the snags to my left. After a spirited battle, the fish was netted safely, the hook falling out of the fishes lip as soon as the line went slack - phew!
A few ounces shy of 2lb, this gorgeous dark perch really made my day.
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| Exquisite markings |
As dusk approached, I was hopeful of more action, but feel that the fish were more interested in the huge shoal of bait fish, than my hookbait. A last gasp attempt to catch more baits saw perch chasing hooked dace into the margins. Alas, it wasn't to be, my float sailed away on dark, but the strike failed to connect.
Pleased as punch with the days endeavors, I made my way home. I hope your nets are never dry! D.
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| A step closer |
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