Field Surgery

Yesterday he rain had been predicted to arrive at one. This morning it had moved to two, so I wasn't really sure how long this session would be. I walked briskly along the river looking for insect life and/or rising fish. After thirty minutes I spotted a fish rising, despite no obvious insect life.  I prepared to cast the Klinkhåmer out, a fly I'd put on for a bit of prospecting if nothing was showing. A couple of false casts and every thing came to a halt behind me. The tippet had wrapped round the electric fence at the top of the bank. Forgetting it was an electric fence, despite crawling under it two minutes earlier, I grabbed the fly and brushed the wire. My hand was thrown away and the hook was embedded in the middle finger. As luck would have it, I'd forgotten to debarb the fly. Gritting my teeth I gave it a tug with the forceps and out it came, with surprisingly little blood or pain. In fact it's more tender now as I type this than it had been all day. Just to add insult to injury, as I made my way back down the bank I spooked mummy and her ducklings who promptly shot through the swim. Despite waiting fifteen minutes or so the fish never rose again.

I spent another hour wandering the banks looking for signs of action. I dropped the Klinkhåmer in here and there to no avail. Eventually I came across a few uprights fluttering about. No fish were rising, but martins and sparrows were plucking the insects out of the air. I nearly drained the battery in my phone trying to film one catching a fly. It seemed whichever insect I pointed my camera at was not the one they'd take. A trout then started rising and took my fly first cast. A nice fish of ten inches or so. other rises started a bit further up stream, but these turned out to be small grayling and some rather nice dace. Why weren't the grayling about in winter when I tried for them and I bet the dace will disappear come the sixteenth. A bit further up, at the end of a cattle drink, another trout started to rise. By the time I got to the cattle drink the cattle had decided I was worth a visit. One of them plonking itself right on the line of my backcast. The river here drops to about four foot very close to the sheer bank. I managed to inch along the narrow shelf away from the cattle and get a couple of casts at the fish before pricking it when I struck too quickly.

 








It now started to drizzle a bit and with the phone shutting down I decided to retire to the car for a spot of refreshment as it was close by. The drizzle never amounted to much, but the refreshments were very welcome. As I was about to set off again the farmer turned up to check on the cattle. After discussing what a daft bunch he had this year he told me is grandson had caught a salmon earlier in the year while spinning for pike. Despite the low res of his cheap phone it was obvious, from the pink stripe, it was a large rainbow. It looked like a double, similar in size to the one I'd hooked and lost a couple of years ago. I explained that it was a very impressive rainbow trout and that it had probably escaped from the fish farm upstream some years ago. I enquired what had happened to it and was told it had been returned as his grandson didn't want to kill it. I must admit I'm in two minds about this. As they are escapees and not stocked I don't mind as much. I'm not really sure if they are detrimental to the native browns.

I managed a few casts to rising fish, but only got a few decent dace for my efforts before the rain proper arrived. As I left a pike scattered the dace before returning back under the trees.  I managed to get back to the car before getting soaked and with out the cattle blocking the gate. Just over a week before the coarse season opens and it looks from the weather forecast like the rivers might get a flush through if The Moors don't soak up all the rain.