The curious incident of the worms in the night (Entry 79)

Have you ever had one of those weeks where despite your best efforts and planning, things just don’t seem to happen? Well it was one of those, and the problems started in my garden shed.

Had I not been half asleep I would have taken a photo of the farce that followed but upon opening the shed to ready the bait I needed to set out for some more stillwater bream, namely red maggots and some freshly bought worms, I found the tub that had been full the night before now lay mysteriously empty. Thankfully it wasn’t the maggots that had escaped but the worms, through a little crack in the lid that had otherwise gone unnoticed. One hundred large dendrobaenas had made their escape. Just the odd one now left on the wooden floor. After I cursed their luck (I hope the blackbirds get you) I emptied the entire shed and retrieved about a dozen worms. Hardly worth it really. I tried to think positively; it would be a maggots and groundbait approach then. Who needs worms anyway?

Just what is out there?

I got to the venue a little later than planned due to a rather substantial tailback caused by a ‘large load’ lorry travelling at a snails pace on the motorway. It gave me a chance to plan the session at least. Waggler at a comfortable distance fished over a small bed of groundbait and a few maggots catapulted every fifteen minutes or so. Pretty simple fishing but one that takes some beating, especially when the fish are lethargic. My, how plans in angling can change upon the first sight of the venue. Since my last visit the water clarity had increased significantly and I knew it would have pushed the fish further out past waggler range. I also knew if would make the fish a lot harder to catch. And now I cursed the escapee worms again. Some chop worm mixed with some peat and soil, fed via a small feeder with a worm section as bait. That would have been a good clear water choice. Still, it was pointless thinking that way and I adopted a similar tactic except with groundbait and maggot. But it just didn’t feel right. While a full days fishing on the feeder was good practice it was a biteless session and packing away just after dusk I reflected on what could have been. It’s one of anglings luxuries; the ability to replay the session, substituting different baits and ideas to ‘see’ if it would have made a difference. Building hope for next time. Stoking the fire. Fanning the flames. Speaking of flames, turn that car heater up to maximum. It had got pretty cold in the dark, damp early evening.

The swim for my second session

Luckily I managed to find some time for a second session during the week. I put worm gate behind me and looked forward to some good roach fishing. The venue in question a small club water that during the summer I caught a few lovely sized roach when fishing pellet. I hoped that with a mild spell these roach would have an appetite for some crisp casters. There was some colour in the venue and not knowing much about the place I hoped this wouldn’t put the fish off. The plan was to feed little and often and fish shallow. The venue itself isn’t deep and I assumed that a constant trickle of bait would see any fish competing for the casters. Well, the plan worked and I began to catch roach after roach. The only problem being the size of the fish. At around an ounce each, they weren’t the size of fish I was after. I persisted and hoped that they would eventually either get fed off or be pushed out by some bigger fish but two hours later the small roach were still there in numbers. I plumbed and fished on the deck. Small roach there too. I fed a different line closer in, just over a shallow marginal shelf. This line was fed with hemp and casters. No pellets to avoid the resident bream. It took a while to get the first bite and when it came, you guessed it, it was a one ounce bream! So much for plans. Even the chicken couldn’t believe what she was seeing and probably thought it would be better to give her the casters.


On the whole I couldn’t have done any more than I did on both sessions to change the outcome. Maybe my location was off or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the fish simply had no interest in feeding. Who can tell and in truth I don’t think anyone really knows. It’s all guess work. The variables are so great in angling. I’ve said it before, but I’m surprised we catch as often as we do. Still, one thing I am sure of; I’m already looing forward to going through it all again. Well, maybe not the escapee worms in the shed bit.

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Until Next time tight lines



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