On the way to Green Pool I noticed a heron fly overhead, that expert fisher I have utmost respect for, for he, along with the kingfisher, are the greatest fish catchers you could ever hope to meet. Throughout the rest of the journey I hoped that I'd spot a the heron's little blue friend at the pool, now that would be nice!
The day was about crucian carp. For once I'd left the carp stuff behind, opting for finer tackle, tackle with more finesse, delicate enough to trick those timid, shy biters. The rod of choice was an Allcocks Wizard, the reel a small Aerial and the plan was to fish with tiny floats, light line and small hooks with sweetcorn as bait. An ash Crabtree style net and my basket completed the outfit.
I arrived at the pool early, it was only a little past six and there was nobody else there. This was a good thing in many ways, but mostly because there is only one fishable swim at Green pool, the overgrown, forgotten nature of the place means that it doesn't take long for the paths to become impenetrable, which suits me fine. There were carp nudging the weed in the centre of the pool, their broad shoulders pushing through as they fed. I pictured in my mind a crust flying through the air attached to my hook, Landing with the faintest plop, being teased gently back into position and then to be snaffled by something big, dark and scaly. But those thoughts were for another time.
The pitch (not much more than an open section of bank) has a overgrowing bush to the left, the Canadian pond weed starts a couple of rod lengths out in front and there is a channel to the right, so I had three different spots to bait and to fish in a rotation approach. Straight away I started catching roach, not big roach but very pretty ones, sparkling in the morning sun, which was already quite hot. Then the float was surrounded with tiny bubbles, I though that perhaps the crucians had moved in, but upon striking whatever I hooked charged off through the weed and broke me quite easily.
Just as I was tying on a new hook I heard the sound I dearly wanted to hear, a kingfisher. That oh so familiar piercing shrill was echoing around the pool, it was delightful, then I saw her. She was perched on a branch opposite me, flew off, hovered above the water and made her dive returning back to the same branch to polish off her meal. I've seen them perform this hummingbird like action before. For the next ten minutes I watched in awe as she fished and prayed that one day I could fish with the same splendour, so precise yet so elegant. Once she was gone I resumed tying the new hook, but with a smile on my face, the lost fish really didn't matter any-more.
For the next hour I watched damselflies, and large green dragonflies as they visited the bush to my right, I don't know what particular bush it was, but it certainly attracted some very pretty flying insects. I was broken a further three times by either larger carp or tench and landed half a dozen small silvery common carp and a handful of sparkly roach. At lunch time I ate my sandwiches and contemplated a move, a change of scenery.
The walk did me good, it was getting very hot by now and the pool next door (also reputed to hold good crucians) had a number of shady pitches, shrowded by tall ash and birch trees that looked very welcome indeed. The pitch I chose was situated beside a great lily bed. One pad was deepest red, so I chose that one to fish next to. Just as soon as the float cocked I had company. A shoal of small perch had emerged from under the pads and surrounded my float. I then remembered that the float body had a flash of red, which I guess could look like a red maggot. For the next few minutes I watched on in delight as the perch, one by one, attacked my float. All thoughts of angling were pushed to the back of my mind, I was more than happy watching the little army in front of me defending their patch. The perch did eventually get bored pecking the float, and I went on to catch another handful of roach and some skimmer bream, but Green pool was calling me back, I could hear it in the breeze, perhaps the spiny regiment was trying to tell me something.
I arrived back, slightly worried that somebody might have stolen my pitch in my absence, but they hadn't. There were, however, dozens of pond skaters swirling round and round on the surface. Just as soon as I began fishing they started using my float tip as a traffic cone, circling it time and time again. A damselfly landed on the delicate little float tip causing it to sink, he flew off and up came the tip like Excalibur. The scaled down tackle was proving to be troublesome, I knew that if I beefed things up I'd have stood no chance whatsoever of catching a crucian, but with the tackle I was using I was broken twice more before calling it a day. Before I left I did manage to land a few more roach and small common carp.
On the way back to the pool I stopped to watch a group of big carp sheltering from the sun under a big canopy of overhanging trees. I could have easily bounced a crust along the surface to their position and felt sure one of them would have taken it, but that was for another time, perhaps next time.
The day was about crucian carp. For once I'd left the carp stuff behind, opting for finer tackle, tackle with more finesse, delicate enough to trick those timid, shy biters. The rod of choice was an Allcocks Wizard, the reel a small Aerial and the plan was to fish with tiny floats, light line and small hooks with sweetcorn as bait. An ash Crabtree style net and my basket completed the outfit.
I arrived at the pool early, it was only a little past six and there was nobody else there. This was a good thing in many ways, but mostly because there is only one fishable swim at Green pool, the overgrown, forgotten nature of the place means that it doesn't take long for the paths to become impenetrable, which suits me fine. There were carp nudging the weed in the centre of the pool, their broad shoulders pushing through as they fed. I pictured in my mind a crust flying through the air attached to my hook, Landing with the faintest plop, being teased gently back into position and then to be snaffled by something big, dark and scaly. But those thoughts were for another time.
The pitch (not much more than an open section of bank) has a overgrowing bush to the left, the Canadian pond weed starts a couple of rod lengths out in front and there is a channel to the right, so I had three different spots to bait and to fish in a rotation approach. Straight away I started catching roach, not big roach but very pretty ones, sparkling in the morning sun, which was already quite hot. Then the float was surrounded with tiny bubbles, I though that perhaps the crucians had moved in, but upon striking whatever I hooked charged off through the weed and broke me quite easily.
Just as I was tying on a new hook I heard the sound I dearly wanted to hear, a kingfisher. That oh so familiar piercing shrill was echoing around the pool, it was delightful, then I saw her. She was perched on a branch opposite me, flew off, hovered above the water and made her dive returning back to the same branch to polish off her meal. I've seen them perform this hummingbird like action before. For the next ten minutes I watched in awe as she fished and prayed that one day I could fish with the same splendour, so precise yet so elegant. Once she was gone I resumed tying the new hook, but with a smile on my face, the lost fish really didn't matter any-more.
For the next hour I watched damselflies, and large green dragonflies as they visited the bush to my right, I don't know what particular bush it was, but it certainly attracted some very pretty flying insects. I was broken a further three times by either larger carp or tench and landed half a dozen small silvery common carp and a handful of sparkly roach. At lunch time I ate my sandwiches and contemplated a move, a change of scenery.
The walk did me good, it was getting very hot by now and the pool next door (also reputed to hold good crucians) had a number of shady pitches, shrowded by tall ash and birch trees that looked very welcome indeed. The pitch I chose was situated beside a great lily bed. One pad was deepest red, so I chose that one to fish next to. Just as soon as the float cocked I had company. A shoal of small perch had emerged from under the pads and surrounded my float. I then remembered that the float body had a flash of red, which I guess could look like a red maggot. For the next few minutes I watched on in delight as the perch, one by one, attacked my float. All thoughts of angling were pushed to the back of my mind, I was more than happy watching the little army in front of me defending their patch. The perch did eventually get bored pecking the float, and I went on to catch another handful of roach and some skimmer bream, but Green pool was calling me back, I could hear it in the breeze, perhaps the spiny regiment was trying to tell me something.
I arrived back, slightly worried that somebody might have stolen my pitch in my absence, but they hadn't. There were, however, dozens of pond skaters swirling round and round on the surface. Just as soon as I began fishing they started using my float tip as a traffic cone, circling it time and time again. A damselfly landed on the delicate little float tip causing it to sink, he flew off and up came the tip like Excalibur. The scaled down tackle was proving to be troublesome, I knew that if I beefed things up I'd have stood no chance whatsoever of catching a crucian, but with the tackle I was using I was broken twice more before calling it a day. Before I left I did manage to land a few more roach and small common carp.
On the way back to the pool I stopped to watch a group of big carp sheltering from the sun under a big canopy of overhanging trees. I could have easily bounced a crust along the surface to their position and felt sure one of them would have taken it, but that was for another time, perhaps next time.
The world of the small is so often missed, yet its beauty is often bigger than the world of the large. A lovely read........
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