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Dave Gladwell writes...Little and Large
It is not always the biggest fish that give the most pleasure in angling to the average fisherman, but more often than not the turn of the unexpected. That is one of the great attractions! This incalculable edge of mystery. What is held within the depths of a great gravel Pit or the wild untamed fast flowing regions of a mighty reed-lined river. Back them up against a silent placid pool with the morning's mist hanging over it or the summer's setting sun rich in colour so alive with insect life, and we have a colourbox conundrum for life. Plenty of times our "personal bests" have come from when we are just fishing ordinarily whiling away the time with no specific species in mind. Although Commercial fisheries fulfil a very important part of our chosen leisure lifestyle few boast the same scenario with their heavily stocked waters often populated with as many people. The air of mystery is not yet there either because many are still in their comparative infancy with predictable species and sizes. That does not make the fish any less worthy of our affections and careful handling, neither does it belittle the skills which have been accrued in prizing enormous bags of fish from places like the fabulous Barford Lakes complexes. One of the other things they do not do however, is to give much notability to the mini species so important in our freshwater ecology. True there are Gudgeon in these places of specimen proportions that can engulf a pretty hunky piece of meet or a mouthful of maggots. Who wants minnows there or in East Anglian Rivers anyway. Okay, on a bad day, like the tiny silver and delicate bleak they will consistently provide a bite but are not in the same league as some of the now specially scientifically protected species. Boyhood days of Bullheads, or Miller's Thumbs being in sufficient abundance to net and keep in a jam jar alongside Stone Loaches and Lamphreys are long gone. Happily though these tiny friends are making a welcome comeback. In the run below the concrete Viaduct at Earsham on its gravelly shallow tipping out from the Stow Fen itself, they have started to thrive again. At the hump bridge crossing the tiny Broome Beck at Ellingham too they have again taken a hold in the shallows under larger stones on riffley runs. Many of these smaller brethren are valuable indicators as to water quality and our much improved and beloved Waveney is reflecting that aspect too. We have more respect that to impale these comparative minorities on a hook for livebait in pursuit of monster perch and chub now with most anglers realising their value in the ecological barometer and chain. The Stickleback with its prickly male boasting his redthroat, spines erect, must have been the inspiration for many to venture forth with more than a net to catch fish. In those far off days when 10 years old, my father bought me my first aquarium. It was made from an accumulator case and the frosted glass sides distorted its occupants somewhat, but what pleasure it gave me. How much I learned as sticklebacks from the Wey Navigation Canal gorged amazing sized pieces of chopped worm fed to them. How sad I was when minnows died, and elated at the long life of tiny gudgeon. Eventually I progressed to a tin bath in the garden for my first pond, and there was much to learn about fish in general from these tiny chaps that has stood me well over the years. Of all things though that mystery still inspires and pleases me when I have cast out and the first hour slipped by. I notice the blackbird's call and the bold robin after discarded maggots or casters. The cheeky chaffinch all of a flutter and the soft greys of a wood pigeon clattering into a tree top. Above all these is the flashing brilliance of the gratifying kingfisher as my favourite alongside a brightly coloured rudd. Then the float dips and with my strike it could be almost anything from the River! A few thuds and I am guessing its species and size. Whatever fish it is. . . . 'twill be my guest and pleasure for a while to admire and return for another day, charmed and enchanted Oh, yes it may be Winter with snow on the ground but we have those memories and the air of mystery to get us through to Summer again. Dave Gladwell www.bungay-suffolk.co.uk |
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