When is perfect not perfect? (Entry 163)

Usually when perch fishing, I have found.

I was having strange little session. One of those days when everything seems perfect and yet the fish do not play ball. I was also suffering what felt like a years worth of mistakes crammed into three hours. I had lost a few hooks and jigs on unseen, underwater snags over the first half hour, cast into quite visible snags in the form of overhanging trees, and almost ended up in the river on one occasion having tripped on some unruly brambles. I had also forgot my dinner. Quite honestly, I was feeling more than a little sorry for myself. I drank a comforting cup of tea and admired the scene. It was then time for a stern talking to. Time to fish, better.

An easy place to struggle

Not that I thought doing so would necessarily make any difference to the outcome of the day, but it is better to leave feeling like you gave it your best than not. If I’m completely honest I’d just like to have barrels of luck with me always. Perfect conditions, huge amounts of skill, no thanks. Just heaps of stinking luck. Now that would be perfect.

Coloured water perch catcher

After the tea and talking to, I fished with much more fervour and I felt that if there was any feeding fish than they would surely be tempted by the dark worm imitation I had on. The water was very, very clear today so much so that, instead of solely fishing the margins, I spent just as much time cast into the deep water of the rivers’ central channel. There was one section of river where I changed to a much more visible lure, where a small brook ran in, creating a patch of very coloured water. A haven, I hoped, for any shy and timid predators to wile away the daylight hours.

A blank saving jack pike

But there was no fish here either. No pike willing to feed and especially no perch. There’s the outside chance of a big chub on this waterway to, but these fish remained as elusive as you would expect them to be, they are the most fearfullest of fishes after all. The afternoon came and went. My thoughts began drifting, focussing more on the rumbling going on in my belly than on any minute vibrations being emitted down the line. One unmistakable take in the deep water of the middle eventually came, the culprit was a small jack pike, an immaculate looking one. A little to support the notion that the fish may have been sitting in the safety of the deeper water after all. I couldn’t repeat the capture though. Luck, maybe.

I’ll find those perch eventually. If not on the lure rod, then fishing worm or even bunches of casters or maggots. Failing that I’ll sit there long enough and bore them into the net with tails of multiple defeats at their hands. Or fins.

Thanks for reading and until next time,

NorthwestFisherman

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