If we get lucky

Small rivers surprises. How to seduce an autumn pike on a small river.

It happens that you go around the banks with a spinning rod more than one pool and reach, sweep more than one kilometer, but the river seems to have died out. Here, it seems, is the signature place: a pit surrounded by reeds in which icy sleepy water stands and slowly circles. The fishing line rustled, kicked up and went the spoon to almost the opposite bank. Bulk … Pause … But do not lower the snag to the bottom, what if the snag is lurking at the bottom? You carried the spoon, it seemed, where the pike must certainly be: next to withered algae and reeds. Then you send her on her way over the pit. And the water is just as lifeless, and this makes the heart cold. You sit down, smoke, swearing that again you can only admire the scenery. You will have a bite, what God sent … well, there and not only that it is God … It seems that it will get warmer somewhere inside, the icy frown will thaw.

What, they say, to us? Is it empty to return for the first time? As if in response to an optimistic mood, the sun will look out, and everything already appears in a different light. You send the snag again into free flight, but this time you are no longer afraid to catch a black with green snag. The spoon lays down to the bottom. With jerks, uneven winding, you pick it up and bring it to you. She, baubles, comes again empty, only with threads of algae. The pit is clean, apparently. You can be bolder … Now the return of the trompe l’oeil reminds of a dance over the bottom … Two turns of the coil … a pause … Or else you tug at it with impatient jerks, a clumsy wasteland that can’t seduce a simple pike. It’s always more difficult to blame yourself for something… And suddenly, at one of the stops of the spoon and its rise, there is a strong elastic weight, and the line goes to the side. I took it! .. And the pike, apparently, is not large, but you drive it carefully: suddenly – the last of the season? .. You take it, elastic and furious, and from this capture of an ordinary river pike it warms your soul.

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But it so happened that not a single snag, not a single cunning stepped wiring could seduce the autumn pike of a small river

Dropped so on one of our bike trips to low water. Having whipped all the pools around with spoons, they spat on this empty matter and sadly sat down on the bank, thoughtfully muffling cigarettes and looking sideways at the significant cork sparkling from the backpack … And the day just cleared up. The plump blue clouds burst open, it was, like a rainy autumn sickness, the sun opened, bright and strong, as happens in autumn with transparent air, the high sky turned blue. And immediately there were circles on the water. We, without saying a word, took out light fishing rods. Small roach pecked cheerfully and often, too, apparently rejoicing in the last warmth. And we caught the little things, prepared and live bait tackle. At that time we didn’t take the flyers with us: they were usually displayed near the grass, which had almost fallen out. Our tackle is a bit strange – a hybrid of a mug and a winter gutter. But here they are just right. They pushed the boat away, and went out into the pit, where the water went around. They put up the girders and – on the shore. Better to be quiet now. While we were sitting on the shore, basking in the “little white” and autumn sun, suddenly a white flag lit up on the dark autumn water … It’s time! .. And the circle spun from side to side, diving under the water, whitening with an inverted “belly” and again rising to the surface. A white flag fluttered helplessly above the circle. Sweep! And now a spotted pike is walking on the fishing line, wisely bypassing the spoons, but not resisting a live silver fish …

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If we get lucky

In autumn, catching bream on a small river does not happen often

At this time, he freely and greedily feeds on the Volga expanses. The frightened bell of the “ringing” will tinkle, the gatehouse will bend smoothly, fall off and suddenly be hammered in with sharp jerks. And in the green Volga water, below under the boat, the side of autumn fat bream is already shimmering with dark silver … Dream …

But it happens that in the midst of a series of gray days, a bright world suddenly opens up, albeit for a short while, for a week, and then surprises from the small river are possible.

Such days fell this time too. We were fishing the soroga along the edge of the wilting grass. This strip of grass was just the border, the edge from the shallow water to the pit. Fishing was fun. The float ran along the stream, occasionally stopping and sinking. But we knew that there was a sand spit, and specifically allowed the hook with a worm to cling to the bottom. It was on this improvised table, slightly raised above the grassy bottom, that bites happened. And then in the sun’s rays, crushing on the water, a red-eyed path blazed with silver.

So it was now. The float ran a familiar path and drowned, as usual, on the spit. But only this time he did not go further, but abruptly bent down and ducked under the water. A golden and sleepy autumn bream was heavy on the line …

Alexander Tokarev and fishx.org

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If we get lucky

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