Diary of a Riverkeeper on the River Test Hampshire

Flouer O Scotland

2012-02-02T22:29:00.002Z

We are currently in the grip of a high pressure system that has eased from the east over Russia and Scandinavia to do battle with a warm front from the west. An East v West battle that has produced a cold war of sorts. Snow has been dumped to the west of us and Dartmoor looks pretty in the papers. We currently lie some way behind the vanguard of the eastern invader, deep in the lines, and as a result no precipitation, just icy icy cold. For three days now the temperature has struggled to get above zero. The pond is covered in ice, anything avian is hammering the pheasant feeders, and the deer are searching the maize for the few remaining frozen cobs. The hares are in the wood because they can’t make a scrape in the field and the river remains low but beautifully clear.

Last Friday our local paper trumpeted the drought conditions on it's front page. It wasn't a slow week for news, There were tales of flashers in the park, Joe Smith's unusually shaped vegetable and a diamond wedding directly attributed to "a bit of give and take" yet there on the front page was the Head Honcho of the town angling club standing in the middle of a fast diminishing lake. Last weekend we travelled north on family business, abandoning the arid south for the verdant north. Once the black country had been conquered we encountered flooded field after flooded field, cocoa coloured rivers with busted banks, and tales of overflowing reservoirs and lakes. We brought a few bottles of the stuff back as an offering to the gods of our ailing stream but it doesn’t seem to have had much of an effect, perhaps plans for a national grid should be revisited. Last week we lost a game of cricket on a green field in a desert, and a journeyman golfer tamed a tiger over 18 holes of golf surrounded by miles of sand, a smattering of camels and the occasional Bedouin. The logistics of supplying water to turn either of these sites from barren desert to international sporting venue would leave our own water mandarins scratching their heads.
We perch on an island, so opportunities to desalinate sea water are there, or use the canal system (national grid?) to move water to the over populated south? The increased flow may cause the southbound narrow boats to push on a bit and the northbound may struggle to gain ground, but the canals would have to be maintained, jobs would be created and an aquatic environment preserved.
Water is a valuable commodity and if I were the King of Scotland I would bring forward the referendum on independence from 2014 to next week. Explain to subjects that after oil, the Scot's next most valuable asset is water. A hose is to be connected to the lochs and burns and, in times of plenty, water sent south through a large meter somewhere around Stirling and the recipient billed accordingly. Incessant rain will replenish stock, a new nation will be born and new “water inspired” lines will be added to “Flouer O Scotland”
I’d better stop; it was the sight of all that water lying on fields that set me off blabbering like a man in the desert falling on an oasis.
Our final shoot of the year yielded a few birds. Woodcock again, half a dozen Partridge, a few Duck, a dozen Pheasants, one Jay and one Rook. Despite the cold weather we saw few oddities; the Snipe have gone and now no Widgeon. We did however see a miniscule Muntjac about the size of a small Hare. Whisper it quietly, but on a day when we were decidedly short of dogs Otis played a blinder and picked up over half the bag!
On the river, assault by chainsaw continues, and I am currently decimating scrappy timber on the bottom shallows. Some has gone the wrong way and bounced off power lines causing sparks. A phone call instigated a quick response and a visit in high viz by the relevant authorities who dealt admirably with the errant electricity.

One chap had been this way before, a few years ago at 9.00am on a Sunday morning. Child B, who dabbles in cricket, had been out in the rain in the garden on his “ball on a string” hung from the cherry tree. An enthusiastic pull shot had detached the ball and string from the cherry tree sending the ball up over the house onto some overhead power lines leaving the wet rope dangling down around the metal flue from our wood burner, which started to get hot despite it being early June. A phone call was made and for half an hour we all stood outside and waited for two very visual chaps in their 4x4 cherry picker to turn up and retrieve the ball.

In the lands of the North

2012-01-20T20:20:00.001Z

Talk of drought conditions continues in the south, still not enough rain and spring ditches that are currently dry. The river is very low, gin clear and the sole fisher who ventured out for Grayling and Roach found it tough going. We have had a few Olives put in an appearance early in the afternoon but even these have not been enough to get the fish moving. Fourteen months ago we fished a tributary of the Loire in France for the second time. A previous trip four years earlier had been very successful with plenty of Chub, Barbel, Bream, Carp and Roach so we travelled with high hopes. Following three dry winters in central France the river was unrecognisable from the river that we thought we were going to fish. Where I had set my Quivertip rods up four years earlier to fish a big back eddy that had yielded Chub after Chub, I had to turn through 180 degrees and fish the other way as the big back eddy had gone, along with all the Chub who had dropped down into deeper water for safety. We switched to a ten acre lake nearby that was down to four acres and caught a few fish. A third dry winter could have a similar effect in these parts. Bits of this river are now unrecognisable from previous winters with water taking a different path around pools and cutting across the inside of bends when it would normally be pushing around the outside, and a municipal lake not far from here is preparing to move fish because of low water. We need rain, rain and then some more rain and quick!

Our fry in the hatchery are now up in the water and feeding and look like a pretty good batch, they must be cleaned out every morning with a siphon to remove any waste food and morts. No sign of gas bubble problems that have killed a few in recent years. It is brought on by depleted oxygen levels in the spring water due to it being out of contact with the air for a significant length of time, Nitrogen replaces the oxygen which leads to bubbles forming in the fish, similar to the bends in humans. It can be avoided by bashing the incoming water around to mix it with the air. We have a few Egret on the river at the moment and many Swans lie in wait on the bends below, there is also a lone Cormorant making sorties,

but the current level of the river should be unfishable for Graculus who would be better off pushing off back to the land of Nog, “In the lands of the North where the black rocks stand guard against the cold sea”

We have one day shooting left, the beaters day at the end of the month. I’ve given up on the ducks as they no longer seem to like our pond, there are as many on the river as there are munching on my barley; don’t know where they all are and I don’t hear much shooting in the evening and there are plenty who flight duck in these parts. They are not dibbling in puddles on the meadow because there are no puddles on the meadow so I can only put it down to the vagaries of wild duck, they're there or they're not. We have a few Pheasant about but amongst those that remain are some of the cuter birds. On our last bumble through the valley there were a few birds that flipped from one side of the river to the other as the beaters came through without taking full flight, we even have one canny cock who feeds on our bird table most mornings and keeps his head down as the beating line of our neighbour’s shoot passes through the back field.

The Chainsaw is out and I have been preparing for battle with crack willow by duffing up a couple of hedges that have got out of hand near our bottom bends.

The Crack Willow (pictured) on the left hand bank are due their four yearly assault. Twenty years ago this lot were far more substantial and leaned half way over the river. There was no marginal growth and the river had been over widened as winter flows (we had them then) wore away at the exposed bank, consequently the river slowed and silt was deposited. This, along with the willows restricting the light, resulted in limited weed growth, a few blobs of starwort at best. Pollarding the willows let in light. The erosion had exposed some old wooden bank repairs that had been put in many years ago when this was the main fishing bank. Sedge was planted in amongst these repairs and topped off with some chalk and mud pulled out of the river. In new light the margins thrived and the original line of the bank was restored. The channel has been squeezed and in the slightly speedier flow, Ranunculus and Water Celery and all the bugs who thrive in them, now flourish. If I leave these willows to grow, the chalkstream will be starved of light and will return to its silted up state. To my mind they are placed somewhere between Wasps, burs, and Kerry Katona on the list of irritants that I could quite happily get through the day without and in some cases I would turn to chemicals to extinguish a few, but behind these crack willows is our Pheasant release pen and the willows afford the young birds fresh out of the pen some protection, they are pollarded every four or five years and the willow branches cut and laid where they provide good cover and hold birds on a shooting day, although it takes a good dog to get them out!

Our home that comes with the job is an easy cast with a four weight from the river, it used to be a two bedroom flat above four garages that my employer kindly converted to a four bedroom house on the arrival of our second child. The kitchen used to be where the tractor laid its weary head after a hard day mowing. Child B has just passed seventeen and following his first guided explorations of the open highway has twice tried to return our kitchen to its original status by parking the car in it!

Problems with wind

2012-01-10T13:35:00.000Z

Wow we have had wind! And not just the pops and phuts brought on by the rich diet of the festive fortnight; a real good blow that sent trees tumbling and fences flying! We’ve had a big Oak come down that will sit very well in the woodshed next year, and the tractor shed on the cricket field is in pieces with the roof in the next field. I had a call informing me that a small blackthorn was blocking the road in the village near the football field so I made a start on clearing it up when a huge Beech bordering the playground toppled over taking out the power lines, phone line and a large part of the churchyard wall. It blocked the road for twenty four hours before a beleaguered Southern Electric team arrived to clear up. Since then heated discussion has ensued over who is responsible for paying for the clearup operation, with the Church refusing to accept that in insurance parlance it was an act of god (why would he break down his own wall) and insisting that the responsibility lies squarely with the parish council. It’s been a while since we had winds so strong, talk has invariably turned to tales of the 1987 Hurricane and the equally strong winds a few years later. I was a silly student at the time of both but do remember a great community

spirit as anyone who had a chainsaw, bowsaw, hacksaw or seesaw set about unblocking the roads. In our student digs my future wife and I had no electricity for over a week and dined by candle light and bathed in a tin tub (normally used for grading fish) in front of an open fire (the only source of heating) In the winds a few years later far too many students jumped into my pooh brown ford fiesta for a dinner time jaunt to the bright lights of Winchester only for our path to be blocked as a tree fell down on the car in front of us, the main trunk lay straight across the bonnet at the base of the windscreen, the occupant, an employee of local TV was on a large mobile phone ringing in

to say that he thought he had a bit of a story, we coaxed him out and, with hindsight, he was in a state of shock as he babbled, shivered and banged on about work; we dialled the emergency services before heading off down a tree lined back lane for town as we only had an hour before the chip shop shut. With the all the wind I have had to do the rounds every day standing up pheasant feeders, the Maize has been

flattened and in the top drive almost every cob of maize has been eaten. As the wind abated towards the back end of the week we had our third day shooting. With water lying out in the meadows we put up a dozen or more Snipe who had gathered around puddles to poke and prod for dainties. A similar number of duck got off the river, a brace of egret

shone bright against a clear blue sky and a skein of Greylag exited stage left. Pheasants were a bit thin on the ground, and the plough made the top drive seem an awfully long way away but the trudge was worth it as our merry band put up a ton of Partridge, a few of which flew the right way. Three Jay bit the dust along with a few Pigeon who have recently found the flattened Maize. Lunch was taken with nonsensical discussion on a variety of subjects before all struggled to get out of the muddy morass of a paddock where cars had been parked; finally we are getting rain, we haven’t had cars stuck in there for a few winters.

On the river the perennial battle against the evil forces of Crack Willow is resumed. Two short stretches are currently starved off light following last year’s growth, saws have been sharpened and the enemy is about to be engaged. The same is true on the short stretch of middle Itchen that I have taken on. The owner and his friend have done great work with their chainsaws clearing the willow from a neglected spring ditch that could prove to be a very productive nursery stream, half a day pulling rubbish out with a pair of grabs has exposed gravel that sparkles in the light that now penetrates once the battle with crack willow has been won.

Woody Debris

2012-01-10T13:14:00.000Z

A couple of times in the past year I have got a bit of a bee in my bonnet about the use of woody debris, In spring a two page article appeared in the national angling press by a Wild Trout Trust expert extolling the use of woody debris and sounding the trumpet for everyone to bolt logs to the bottom of the river bed in order for the Wild trout to revive from the riffle subsequently created. On a couple of occasions I have been pulled up for my criticism of the article, but I maintain that it was irresponsible to suggest that all and sundry should start chucking branches in wherever they can, so, with the aid of a few badly taken photos, I will try and demonstrate why.We have used Woody debris here on several occasions, principally on the half mile long man-made channel dug to drive the wheel in the mill. Overwide for the amount of water flowing down it, the flow was sluggish and silt was deposited throughout its length, a hedge runs along one bank starving the channel of light so weed was thin on the ground.

About fifteen years ago we took the decision to narrow the channel and speed up the flow in order to make condtions more suitable for Mr and Mrs Trout and much more besides. The hedge was reduced in height and the far bank planted with sedge and other marginals behind a line of staked faggots. Fifteen years later this has developed into a thick line of sedge that can be edged in at times of high discharge and allowed to grow out when water is scarce. Ducks and much more love the new marginal growth, the fish love the increased flow and food derived from a clean gravel bottom and the weed loves the light. The top section of this channel curves away by around forty five degrees and subsequently the right hand bank is always in shade.

A similar strategy here would not work as the planted marginals would never get established. Instead we allowed the left hand bank to grow out as far as possible and used a couple of pieces of woody debris on the far bank to pinch the flow. Using woody debris always puts pressure on the opposite bank but because the marginal growth here was very thick no erosion of the bank occurred because of the protection of the thick marginal growth, it also had the effect of giving the channel a sexy wiggle.

If you look closely behind the woody debris in the picture you can just make out a two pound Brown Trout who looks to be thriving.On both of these sections, because the fringe has been allowed to grow in we have installed casting platforms for anglers to make it possible to fish.

In this picture, following high wind a length of wood has become lodged in the wrong place. In the space of a week it has already begun to erode the opposite bank that had little protection by marginal growth. Its action is far too aggressive for this type of stream. There are no fish in this riffle, most that were on this bend have moved downriver or upriver in search of an easier station. It’s an extreme example, but on this river damage such as this can occur over a period of months if you get your woody debris slightly wrong. I have looked after this stretch of river for twenty years and am reasonably confident in where and when I can use woody debris on a chalkstream, I would not be as confident on any other type of river and would want a good long look over a period of time before I made any judgement. Articles in the national angling press by “experts in the field” imploring all to throw wood into rivers just to see what happens, are irresponsible and typical of the "have a go and see what happens" policy that prevails in some quarters.

Nice reels, but 16 hours of dark is a long night in the rain

2012-01-01T20:00:00.008Z

Since drought conditions were officially declared it hasn’t stopped raining, if a decree was all that was required I wish the River Gods had made their's a little earlier!

The rain we have had has been good steady stuff much of which should get down into the ground. During our pre Christmas shoot, discussion in the beating line hit a brief moment of clarity and centred on the current lack of water, a senior keeper from the middle river remarked that if you were unable to drive around the water meadows in spring then you had had a good enough load of rain for the winter. Currently you could bumble around our water meadows in a four ton Bentley with a caravan on the back so we need a good deal more yet! During a particularly wet winter we were driving Hares for a Coarsing Club meeting further up the valley. Post lunch the beating line, full of sandwiches and beer fanned out across a paddock in the meadows only for one old boy to disappear up to his waist in a spring popping up out of nowhere. There is a similar “pressure release spot” on the water meadow above us that must be avoided when the winter has been particularly wet as a brim full aquifer bursts at the seams creating a six feet square patch of grass that if walked upon is like trying to stand on an airbed in swimming pool, although it has not been in evidence for some years. Father Christmas delivered a new lens for my camera, and on a recent photographic plod around the Common I took in many Owls. Half a dozen Short Eared Owls hunting during the day

a grumpy Long Eared Owl who did not enjoy company,

a dopey Tawny Owl and a brief glimpse of a Barn Owl on exit. I also counted over twenty Swans on the half mile stretch of river below. There are several on the top water meadow and I wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few sick ones about in a few months as the river cannot naturally support this number of birds.

Child B got some nice distance casting reels for Christmas that are incredibly well made and promise fish to a great size, or so it says on the box. An overnight trip to Broadlands lake with his mate was planned for the first day of the new year but work, partying and weather have put the kaibosh on what could have been a very long night. I have only done two overnight fishing sessions in mid winter, both as a teenager. Sixteen hours of dark is a long night and all I can remember is running around the lake for several hours to keep warm in temperatures some way below zero. We did catch fish but not until the sun had come up. In our garden we have a bird table. Four feet from the kitchen window it is loaded with goodies for the twitterati that flit our way. Last winter and this we have had a weak and feeble Coal Tit and a Blue Tit visit the table on a regular basis,

whether they would have survived the winter without the sustenance provided is open to question; presumably they are fertile. By gently coaxing them through the winter is the "genetic strength" of my local Tit population being compromised by their being preserved and going on to breed? By feeding the Tits have I taken on a population management role and do I now have a responsibility to “take out" the poorer breeding stock as would be the case in deer management. Or should I stop feeding and leave well alone? I would like to think that Mother Nature steps in, the problem in either bird doesn’t appear to be cropping up in juveniles;

they may not be successful at breeding time or their young may be susceptible to predation. Domestication and human compassion are an added complication highlighting the fine line that man must tread at the top of the population pyramid. Foxes, Hedgehogs, Otters, Red Kites and much more besides are subject to rescue and release programmes that come with a high degree of human contact and supported living, some so successful that numbers are now becoming a problem. Is the "genetic strength" of these species being compromised by man's intervention? In the case of the Indigenous Brown Trout genetic purity must now be preserved mother nature is not to be trusted and man must stop and leave well alone. From 2015 stocking of diploid brown trout will be banned to preserve the genetic strength of the indigenous population; a fishy “final solution” that will do little to serve the Brown Trout fishing in these parts.

Sky Sports do nice Audi (so thats where my subscription went)

2011-12-24T22:14:00.002Z

Drought conditions have been officially declared in the South East. Two days before Christmas, when most are manically dashing around, a chance to bury “bad news” was seized and it was quietly revealed that the water company concerned had not been measuring groundwater levels accurately and that steps to preserve water should have been put in place some time ago. I am not sure it would have made much difference as we still need two winter’s worth of rain in the next three months but it is a little disconcerting that those who legislate on our valuable water supplies could make such a simple mistake. It may have been decimalisation that caught them out or possibly the ruler was upside down, we’ll never know, but it’s a worry.

Our second day shooting threw up lots of birds but a smaller bag. Half a dozen Woodcock are currently in residence, along with plenty of Partridge in the top strip of maize but in four hours bumbling up and down the river valley we saw only half a dozen duck. Don’t know where they are and I haven’t heard much lead in the air on other ponds in the vicinity so I guess others are experiencing the same.

John Wilson was here the other week and caught a few Roach and Grayling; this week we have had Keith Arthur and the “Tight Lines” team from Sky Sports down to have a go. Cameraman, soundman and assistant all turned up in their own top of the range Audis, paid for by my subscription while Keith follows on in his ten year old white van packed full of fishing tackle. The Roach fishing isn’t easy at the moment with low clear water but he caught a few and Arthur, like Wilson ,is an easy going bloke, a good talker and knows his fishing.

The diploid Brown Trout eggs are eyed up and on the cusp of hatching and in the river the Brown Trout are feeding sporadically now that the rigours of spawning are done.

We have had our annual visit from CEFAS, an afternoon going over our records of fish movement, mortality and medicine and an inspection of stock and operating practice. CEFAS are a sensible bunch and regularly roll their eyes at some of the questions they are required to ask. We must be one of the smaller sites on the Fish Farm register, and now that we no longer stock other sections of river and only supply rainbows to another registered fish farm there our very few records to peruse. But boxes must be ticked so the CEFAS man met with The Bio-Security manager, Assistant Bio-Security manager, Fish diseases man and The Transportation director all positions currently held by yours truly. It is never a problem and titbits about what is going in the fish farming and fishery management world can often be gleaned. Of chief concern to CEFAS is VHS Viral Haemorrhagic Septicaemia a notifiable disease in Salmonids that is present in mainland Europe, to date there has only been one outbreak in the UK which had the effect of closing the whole of the affected river system down, an outbreak in the Great Lakes of North America devastated a thriving population of Char. VHS can be carried by water and also by birds so it is a miracle that we have escaped further outbreaks. Disinfecting nets, boots and tackle is one step that can cut down the risk of infection but the increasing number of anglers fishing overseas both Game and Coarse, heightens the risk of infection and not all will wipe their feet on return. We have agreed to host a disinfection point for boots and nets.

Problems with transportation persist, EU mandarins issued edicts stating that all animals “en route” should be given sufficient drinking water and comfort breaks to keep them in mid season form. Quite right for Cows Pigs and Chickens, but the same rule also applies to fish; a box must be ticked stating that we have transported our fish with sufficient drinking water for the journey and regular stops for sustenance, bowel evacuation and exercise.

It's about time the keeper got the hang of it

2011-12-16T13:32:00.001Z

The opening skirmishes of our shooting season proved fruitful. The first drive down the water meadow put up a flurry of ducks and the first of a few Woodcock, the two blocks of Maize were full of Pheasant and Partridge and the three drives along the river put up further Woodcock. The guns shot well and one of our bigger bags resulted, all with a skeleton beating line and only three dogs. Otis excelled (for once) the weather behaved. Amongst the flushed game were several Muntjac, quite a few Hares (all in the woods) half a dozen Roe Deer but no Fox. The only blight on the day the freshly ploughed fields where acres of stubble stood the previous week, Oh for a jolly farmer! Everything shot had lived a happy, free range organic life and ended up in a pot or freezer a few days later. The late lunch for beaters and guns lasted for much of the afternoon and was, as always, entertaining, bacchanalian and great fun. It’s an enjoyable day to which all contribute and a great advert for game shooting, to quote one regular beater with paint on his shoes

“After twenty years it’s about time the keeper got the hang of it!”

I wouldn’t go that far and am wary of hubris, no doubt next time we will struggle for double figures.

We have had some high wind, but only twigs and branches have fallen down. The accompanying rain has been heavy and much has run off with the river rising and falling within the space of 24 hrs, the river remains low and we need two winter’s worth of rain over the coming months.

The stretch of upper Dever that I was asked to have a look at is a gem, but in desperate need of a management plan. Crystal clear with fine loose gravel, it sparkles where the light gets in. A few months going bananas with a chainsaw would provide some super toothpick fishing for small brownies. I remember stocking the water twenty odd years ago as a student with mixed sex fish, it had a little more flow then and an angling club leased the water, it was managed and fish thrived. Let go for a decade it has died, marginal growth has been starved of light, crack willow has conquered all, and few fish remain; a sad example of why chalk streams must be managed.

Habit management on the Chalkstreams is key and done properly is highly effective. The two pieces of water for which I am now responsible, although both are chalkstreams, pose different fishery management problems. The angling press in recent months has been full of “ Fishery management experts “ pushing the National Trout and Grayling Strategy that is to be enforced in 2015, several articles have promoted management practice for all rivers. Woody debris was the feature one month, an irresponsible article that promised thousands of new trout if you bolted big bits of wood to the river bed, the resulting riffle would be teeming with small trout. It works in some situations but not in others and when you get it wrong it can actually cause damage. Another article on a particular stretch of river in Sussex highlighted the thriving Wild Brown trout population that had appeared once the Wild Trout Trust wand had been waved, no mention was made of the fact that the water immediately below had been stocked for some years with mixed sex trout. I know this because I supplied the fish and carried out the stocking, all under licence from the EA.

Facts and figures have been cherry picked and goalposts moved miles (the WTT definition of a “wild” Brown Trout is now very different to what it was five years ago) to pedal this National Strategy that will do little but detract from important concerns over water quality and effective habitat management.

With effective Habitat management diploid brown trout introduced to a chalkstream at a young age will thrive and also be subject to sufficient natural selection to ensure that only the fit and able reach maturity and spawn. A stocking strategy such as this in rivers where there is no longer a clearly identifiable wild trout strain provides numbers of fish of all age classes and offers a more commercially viable and natural solution to the one currently being promoted. It would require an effective fishery management and predator control strategy where Mr and Mrs Brown Trout are put first and may also sit better in the public eye. The proposed strategy of “triploids only” may appear an obvious solution, but the media savvy in some quarters would have no trouble in painting them in a bad light and push for their use to be banned, and what are we left to stock with then? ...........Nothing

Which is what many believed The National Trout and Grayling strategy set out to do in the first place, a ban on stocking, although the Wild Trout Trust, Hampshire Wildlife Trust, EA and a host of others would have us believe otherwise,

Cherry anyone?

With a smile and a song

2011-12-02T20:20:00.002Z

Today, the first day of December, a drought warning was issued for the South east of England. We have had some rain, and good rain at that, nice and steady stuff that gets down into the ground, but we need a whole lot more if the river is anything like what it should be next season.

In the river there are redds in all the usual places with fish kicking up hard. The eggs in the hatchery are of mixed quality and I have been busy egg picking most days this past week. We have had a few Grayling fishermen recently, mostly French they have returned mixed results with plenty of small fish caught but the bigger fish have not played ball, Monsieur also presented me with a two pound Perch for tea and a few tips on preparation and the appropriate sauce.

We have our first day shooting next week and I have had a few days clearing up crack willow that has intruded on some of the rides. There appear to be plenty of birds about although the acres of stubble have been ripped up this week so the day may be less a maraud and more a trudge. Otis is currently the “goon in the room” following recent parades by a bitch in season, fingers crossed his thoughts return to emanating from his head and not his loins as he will have a part to play come shoot day.

Over on the Itchen I have been clearing back some bank. Some are critical of the wide swathes cut on some banks of the chalkstreams but it does spread the wear on the riverbank, paths don’t develop and pressure is relieved on the all important fringe. The water is not as clear on this stretch of the Itchen and the gravel not as clean, although cutting the weed has certainly shifted a lot of rubbish. There is also a small spring ditch that is running still, despite the current conditions. Overgrown and with no clear margin it is in desperate need of light and water but it has clean gravel and a few small Brown Trout and could be an ideal nursery stream to the main river. I have also been asked to have a look at a stretch of the Avon which is a very different river to what I am accustomed too and a bit of the Dever that should prove more familiar.

Back on the Dever I was walking up the river one morning to chase back some errant pheasants, when I spotted a Kingfisher on the pool below the weir, close by was a yellow wagtail that flicked and twitched as I approached before rising into the air. The altitude of ten feet was attained before bandits appeared at twelve o’clock, a Sparrowhawk that threatened to pluck him from the sky as the Wagtail would a midday Olive, whether by cunning plan or complete accident the wagtail set off towards the kingfisher who flushed and set off in the opposite direction, distracting the Sparrowhawk who switched quarry and set off in pursuit of the flashing bluebird whose local river knowledge saw him to safety.

When my daughter was small and going through her first “Snow White” phase we found a squab one summer that had flown into the wall of our house. Ten minutes of gentle nursing and a few rounds of “Hi Ho” seemed to have returned it to mid season form so we climbed the bank in order to launch it back to the skies from whence it came. Rusty wings took it slowly to the height of the roof when with a Poof! it was hit by a Sparrowhawk who had lain in white in a nearby field maple, feathers floated down on myself and my bemused daughter who shrugged her shoulders and pitched into “With a smile and a song” before heading back inside.

Keepering by Braille

2011-11-17T20:23:00.006Z

Grayling fishing in recent weeks has been good, with Olives hatching off throughout the mild afternoons. Most anglers have caught a dozen or more fish, both on the surface and below, with a few fish caught just shy of two pounds. There are bigger fish present but all have so far proved wise to what has been put before them. One chap caught a decent Perch and several Roach have all fallen to a nymph. Many big Browns have emerged from their hidden summer lies and are kicking over the gravel on the shallows, there are at least four fish of five pound or more on the shallow by the fishing hut that have come from goodness knows where, they certainly didn’t make their presence known for much of the summer.

I have stripped a few hens and have a couple of baskets of eggs in the hatching trough; they look to be ok and should be hatching out around Christmas time. A few fish in the stew ponds are showing signs of a white fungal infection on their head, as are a few fish in the river. We have had a some relatively fungus free years of late, although a few fish with infections are to be expected around spawning time, especially Cocks that have been chasing about scrapping over the hens.

The Hedge alongside the Millstream has had its annual trim, with the hatch opened and the channel drained to allow the tractor to drive up the millstream bed and cut the side that borders the river.

Another Egret has turned up, but no sign yet of the Merlin who turns up most winters.

Mega myopic, I have worn spectacles full time for much of my life, for the past few years a pair crafted from cutting edge titanium and rimless; NASA specs for the short sighted spaceman that weigh a couple of drams. The one downfall with these superlight specs is that it takes the merest flick of a feather to send them flying from your nose. On one occasion I was tending to a branch over the river that required me to walk along another branch small chainsaw in one hand, holding on with the other fingers tightly crossed. I raised the chainsaw to deal with the branch that had captured several flies presented by anglers, flicking a small branch on the way up that subsequently sprung back and catapulted my glasses into six feet of water. I held the pose for a minute, before exiting stage left, throwing the running chainsaw over my shoulder onto the bank and finding my way back along the branch by braille. Several times on recent shoots I have burst through a bush, only for the fog to descend and the beating line pressing on regardless as I scrabbled around in the scrub for my specs. Today I have taken delivery of some Kevlar plated, super reinforced glasses, My wife suggests that they are a little more "Alan Carr" and a little less "Heinrich Himmler", whatever, I am of an age where I don’t care what they look like only that they are comfortable and it will take a blast from a tank to shift them from my head.

I was recently asked to take a look at a stretch of the Upper Itchen that an acquaintance of my employer had recently purchased with a view to mee keepering it in seasons to come, a pretty piece of single bank on the main river that had not been fished much for many years. On previous occasions when I have been asked if I would consider taking on some extra river work I have turned them down, once when the owner wanted a part time keeper for the best part of three miles of river. This time I have said yes. It is very different to the stretch of the Dever that I look after full time and poses a very different fishery management challenge. There is a week or two of work to get the place up together, and then the upkeep through the summer. It will not be stocked and lightly fished with catch and release very much to the fore.

I have found the time by standing down as Groundsman for Barton Stacey Football Club where I had somehow become Hampshire FA’s Groundsman of the year and was subsequently put up for the FA’s National Groundsman of the Year competition. Suits were dispatched from Wembley and we were eventually found out but were highly commended in the final scores. I thought it best to go out at the top and informed Mr Chairman who thought that it was probably for the best as the white lines had been getting a tad wonky of late.

With two teenage drivers and the insurance costs incurred, plus one at University and one hoping to go once the fees have been put up, the extra money will also be welcome.

My long handled chainsaw

2011-11-03T10:08:00.003Z

The weed is out and the fringe edged in, the river waits for rain. There is a lot of silt accumulated in places that will be easy to shift in the New Year provided we have some rain. The aquifers are at their lowest at this time of the year yet the stretch at Western Colley that was all but dry in July is now flowing suggesting that some supplementary pumping is going on, we certainly haven’t had enough rain to cause it to run and it may be to keep certain discharges into the Dever at the required dilution to avoid problems with weekly water quality sampling, I don’t know it’s just a guess we would be the last to be told if this kind of thing was going on.

There are a few Browns kicking up on the shallows although I have seen very few cock fish to date, they have normally had a month of charging and chasing each other around by now. The Browns in the stew ponds are showing little interest in spawning and it looks like I will be stripping eggs a little later than last year. A Little Egret has put in its first appearance of the Autumn no doubt attracted by lots of fish in clear shallow water, along with a couple of Heron who we chase up the river each morning. The few Grayling fisherman have found the fishing tough with small size 22 nymphs catching most fish, although I have seen fish on the surface in afternoon taking Olives. The Roach look to have fed hard this summer and although they are fewer in number than last year, there are several fish over the two pound mark just waiting for a stick float and a single pinkie on a sunny January afternoon.

I have a lot of chainsaw work this winter, both on and off the river and this past week I began by taking six foot from the top of the gargantuan hedge by the stable block. Each year it posed problems of how it must be cut, from wobbly ladders to a scaffold tower in the back of the pickup it was never easy and had become close to unmanageable, so this year it was forced to bow to the shock and awe of my new long handled chainsaw. I have had a long handled hedge cutter for some years and it is an invaluable tool on the river for doing all the jobs that used to be done with a slasher, but the chainsaw attachment with a couple of extensions although unwieldy, and quite dangerous in company, is very useful and will reduce the amount of time I spend up ladders with a bowsaw, or chainsaw if the health and safety man is not watching...........which he invariably isn’t, so chainsaw it is. It’s not top of the range, and is a 2 stroke which wouldn’t have been my first choice but so far it seems ok. I have had issues with some of the more expensive 2 stroke engines on strimmers, hedge cutters and chainsaws and have had several that claim to be for professional use, worn out in a couple of seasons. Some years ago I switched to a Honda 4 stroke strimmer that has proved to be far more reliable and robust than anything Sweden or Germany can proffer and starts after two or three pulls, it does not rev as high and I can hear the cricket in my headphones. The four stroke engine on my two inch pump that I use intermittently is as reliable and will start second or third pull no matter how long it has stood idle in the workshop.

The Pheasants are all were they should be bar a few errant birds heading for next door’s maize that we chase back over the road and river each day. I have rolled down a couple of rows of Maize which always helps hold birds and everything else besides, there are cobs strewn throughout the woods by creatures feasting on sweetcorn, and while cycling back at night from his shift polishing spoons at the local hotel and spa my son raced a badger down the road that had been munching on the flattened cobs.

I don’t know what is going on with the Ducks, early signs were good but now we have very few visiting the pond despite the offer of some of Hampshire’s finest barley tailings and the company of five plastic ducks to guide them in.

Putting the river to bed

2011-10-20T20:49:00.002+01:00

Much of the past two weeks has been spent knocking the fringe off, edging in and cutting weed. The thin line of marginal reeds is key to effective management of the river channel. If water is low it can be allowed to encroach and squeeze the channel helping to maintain speed of flow which is vital for Ranunculus and all the bugs that live in her. If water is high the fringe can be edged in hard to maximise the channel weed and reduce water height. If the fringe is deprived of light by overhanging trees it thins or disappears and the bank is open to erosion, over-widening of the river can occur resulting in a slowing of the flow, silt deposition and dead Ranunculus. Cutting the fringe down to a height of around eight to ten inches and cutting it back to a foot or two thickness and a clean line between water’s edge and marginal reeds gives enough fringe for the coming season that can be edged in hard or allowed to grow out depending on water conditions as well as providing cover for the angler.

I am half way through stripping the weed right out of the river. The amount of blanket weed is causing problems as it rolls up into huge immovable balls that sit midstream despite the bombardment of flow; the river has dropped markedly on the stretches that I have already cut. And with the weed gone, all is revealed; loads of silt and loads of fish. Stretches that appeared barren through August and September housed a surprising number of fish, a lunker of around five or six pounds is holed up below the bridge over to the fishing hut and the pool below the weir is home to many Brown Trout from five ounces to five pounds, Grayling, Roach, Perch and a Pike. The silt poses problems that will be easily solved by a wet winter and increased flow. Olives continue to hatch throughout the afternoon with a trickle of Pale Wateries and BWOs hatching around me as I cut my way downstream.

The results of water samples taken following a slug of dirty water were returned, BOD and ammoniacal readings were a little higher than expected, but not too high as to cause concern all else was ok. Something went into the river, what it was, we shall never know.

The Ducks are proving to be as enigmatic as recent winters. Some nights they turn up, buckets of barley disappear and the pond is awash with feathers, other nights they don’t. There are a few flighting the millstream most nights, currently overgrown following a waterless summer the cover may be an important factor.

The Pheasants look fantastic and are currently enjoying some of the tallest maize this part of Hampshire has ever seen, bolting in the late summer rain to a height of 8ft. Otis and I spend an hour most mornings chasing back any birds that aren’t too keen on sweetcorn and are heading off to the Little Chef for an “early starter” but most make a beeline for the maize after falling from their roost when the sun comes up. We have some natty new Pheasant feeders made from lidded green buckets mounted on the unused laths from the mill house roof that are proving to be quite popular. I have cut down on the hand feeding as this current crop of Pheasants were starting to become a tad friendly.

Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?

2011-10-07T21:27:00.004+01:00

The last day of a difficult season. Beautifully clear water and a hint of late season sparkle tainted by prolific blanket weed. Fly life this week has been good with Olives hatching throughout the day, a smattering of them blue winged, plus a few sedges. All the small stuff rise but most of the bigger lumps still sulk. A few fish have been caught but nothing like the sport of previous Septembers, after a fantastic first eight weeks the season has ended as one of the least productive in recent memory. There are plenty of fish in the river, but sport has been hampered by the lack of water and the need to let the river “grow in” to preserve water levels. In a week’s time I shall cut all the weed out and I expect it will drop the level by eight to ten inches pushing fish into the deeper holes. There are good numbers of Grayling and large numbers of fry in the millstream following the intensive spawning on the shallows by the ford in April.

A week ago, at 5pm I received a phone call from the factor of the local put and take big fish water, he had just been out and about cleaning screens and glad-handing the anglers and had had his attention drawn to the colour of the river, which was dirty grey and cloudy. A call was made to the Environment Agency pollution hotline, a sample of water taken and a phone call made to the bloke downstream, alerting me to the dirty slug of water. Three years ago we were issued with sterile bottles and a glossy book of pull out postcards on which we could record the details of such incidents and send in to Environment agency central.

After ten minutes scrabbling around in the garage the bottles and book were located, the bottle steam sterilised and a sample taken of the offending slug of water that tainted two hundred yards of river. I then made the phone call to an Environment Agency man a long way away. The opening exchanges revolved around my own personal details: name, address occupation, general fitness and what ethnic group I would put myself in. There followed some questions that didn’t seem to apply to chalkstreams before I interrupted the “checklist” to explain that the slug of dirty water was currently at this location, was moving downstream and if the Environment Agency wanted to come out and get some samples of their own they had better get out her “ tout de suite” which may well have sent them scurrying off towards Winchester, having previously had two section 30 stocking applications turned down for our location in a sensitive part of the upper Itchen.

I was informed by “ central control” that the information would be passed on to the relevant authority who may be in touch soon. Twenty minutes later I was called by team leader of the “dirty water squad” and was asked if the water smelt of anything and could I see any fish in distress,

to which I replied no.

I informed team leader that I had taken a sample and was in the process of sending him a postcard but team leader said that he could not take samples from Joe Public citing poor sampling technique and not to worry about the postcard.

Having given bloody battle with BT for several hours that morning over matters various I returned to my tent to prepare for the following day.

The next morning, there was foam on the river, blocks of it at the end of broken water.

Photos were taken and the enemy engaged.

A decline in chalkstream water quality has been of major concern for some years and is often overshadowed by the Wild Trout crusade and much more besides.
Contact was made with the Test and Itchen association who represent the Riparian owners who were suitably aghast at the EA’s inaction and made enquiries on our behalf. A few days later EA central made contact and asked for water samples. The clumsy factor of the local big fish water had spilt his (a not too uncommon occurrence where liquid is concerned} mine was in the fridge marked “do not drink”
A week after the pollution incident occurred, the sample was collected and we await results.

Nobody died, no fish were found belly up and everything seems to have returned to normal but something went into the river that shouldn’t have. Currently there are roughly three miles of river between here and the source. With the spirit of Scooby Doo, investigations could have been made and the identity of “The Phantom” revealed providing good publicity for a cash starved agency and "The Phantom" suitably punished/admonished.

At the very least a quick tour of the valley with a man in a van may have deterred the culprit from a repeat performance.

Two weeks to go

2011-09-23T20:07:00.003+01:00

Intense showers have freshened the river and fishing continues to improve, although high wind for a few days resulted in difficult conditions for flicking flies. Several large fish have been caught, along with many between one and two pound, most of which have been returned. Daddies have caught the most fish but emergers and small drably dressed nymphs have taken their share. With two weeks of the Trout season remaining it wouldn’t be unusual to see some of the Cock fish colouring up and chasing around, but no sign of any change yet. We have some very big Grayling in the river at the moment, and this week a fish of well over two pounds, the biggest this year, was taken on a PTN, October and November fishing for Grayling could well be some of the best in recent times. The Roach also appeared to have fed well this summer and we have a good head of fish over the pound, when I cut the weed out at the start of next month the small pockets of Roach join up into larger shoals and it will be easier to make an assessment of their numbers.

Currently the river is crystal clear, and has a hint of late season sparkle, the only blot on the copybook the verdant blanket weed that is currently smothering what’s left of the Ranunculus and Celery, any Ranunculus that is free from the shackles of blanket weed is in spanking form, emerald green and luxuriant. Mental notes are also taken at this time of the year as to which trees need sorting out over the winter, everything looks a little different when the leaves are gone and the branches have lifted. Some spots need hitting quite hard, with Crack Willow to the fore once again.

Away from the river, the Pheasants look pretty good, although a little friendly. They spend much of the morning in the long grass next to the river. Ten minutes of Otis tickling them up has made them a little less domesticated and shoved them back into the wood although they keep coming back for more. The Maize is some of the best we have had in recent year and the sooner they find that the better.

On the pond the early feeding appears to have paid dividends and we have good numbers flighting at night. I have cut the duck hides, and in a few days we will shoot the pond for the first time this year. Cover is still thick around the pond, so picking up in the dark (should we shoot anything) will be a test for a Labrador, who desperately needs to buck his ideas up. There have been ducks on the pond throughout the day. This may be down to the thicker cover around the pond or the presence of half a dozen plastic ducks bobbing about, that Otis will no doubt retrieve one by one in the pitch black and dutifully lay at my feet.

I have also spent some time pepping up the electric fences around the stew ponds. Cold weather and an empty belly sharpens the mind of the Otter who will look for the easiest meal possible once the frolicking of summer is done.

He can fly, he can fly, he can fly!

2011-09-08T21:49:00.002+01:00

Summer is over, apparently. High winds and heavy showers have swept across the county and several thermostats have clicked as the central heating has kicked in for the first time in months. I haven’t given up on summer yet, the river can still sparkle well into October and daytime temperatures still hit the high teens and low twenties. September fishing is normally pretty good, although the wind and rain is making things difficult at the moment. On dry days the fish have risen throughout the afternoon, mostly small stuff, but several stately lunkers batting for close of play can still be tempted to flash outside off stump on a balmy afternoon. Several big fish have been lost on the surface, mostly to emergers but one to a Terry’s Terror, a fly that is always worth a try, late season, on this stretch.

Much of last week was spent shuffling our fish in the stew ponds. Our pond full of Rainbows achieved great exam results and have now gone off to the University of fishing life that is the neighbouring “Big Fish” water, we wish them well and trust they will not return at Christmas with a bag full of washing like Child A who is set to follow a similar path. Their departure set in motion a chain of events. With empty ponds, more Rainbow trout were brought in for growing on for next year, and all of our Brown Trout moved up a pond to give more space. Five days of lumping fish that put my healing hernias to their biggest test yet.

The Pheasants look fantastic, there is nothing like a belt of bad weather for bringing their feathers on and this lot look pretty good; and despite the wet, no gapes. Let’s hope they fly as well as they look.

We have Ducks. I have been trickling the feed into the pond each day, and most mornings there are a dozen or more still on the pond with plenty of feathers on the surface. I have started to clear around the hides in preparation for our first nights flighting, but am toying with the idea of leaving more cover around the margins. The pond has always held ducks at night, but few stay for the day. A little more cover may keep a few on the water to get up in the air on our Shooting Days.

Much of our Apples and Pear crop are ready. Four Pear trees have a good crop of small fruit, Of the five different varieties of eating Apple, two are laden with big fruit, the Russet and Cox have lots of small fruit, while the best of all, a tree that yields fruit that would not be out of place in a production of Snow White, maroon skin, ice white flesh, firm, crisp and of a size that fits perfectly in the palm of your hand, has had its best crop in years. King of the fruit trees around here is a Bramley that ought not to be alive having large parts of its trunk stripped of bark. Bestriding the paddock at the bottom of the garden where smaller fruits stand sentinel, it produces a huge number of apples. This year the fruit is small, but twenty feet up hang some large “easy peelers” In recent years, to gain access to the best fruit, I have used a trampoline that my employer purchased some years ago for her grandchildren. Like Eve on springs, two or three bounces get you to the crown of the tree and the best are plucked one by one. Far more fun than ladders, and probably safer too, Should apple picking by trampoline be a late addition to the Olympic schedule, I am a shoo in for a gold medal.

Some years ago when the Trampoline was delivered, I assembled it in afternoon in early June when all jobs for the day had already been done. With the last piece clicked in, I clambered aboard for what “Health and Safety” would term preliminary tests. After initial staggers a rhythm was found and height was gained. A fisherman was enjoying the Mayfly fishing on the bottom bends, and as I cleared the roof of the Bothy I asked him how he was getting on. The man with the rod stayed focused on his quarry while I interjected each time I rose above the roof line, five minutes of fishing chat followed while I bounced up and down, and to this day I don’t know if he was aware of what I was doing. He may have been politely ignoring the actions of a madman, or attributed it to an enthusiastic riverkeeper empathising with dancing Mayflies, whichever, it’s the best trampoline I’ve been on and it’s a great way of picking apples!

At Last!

2011-08-24T21:51:00.004+01:00

At last! Fishing has improved. It may still be August but around here it looks like mid September and the fishing has responded accordingly. Heavy showers, including two inches in two hours have freshened things up and the fish have roused themselves from their midsummer torpor. Many rise through the day to Olives, although evening fishing is on the wane.

I missed the rain, having been on a kids free holiday with the wife. Child "A" had taken herself off to a Greek Isle, and then on to Portugal and Child "B" descended upon Cornwall with a group of friends and family. With concealed trepidation, and a big pile of books, Wife and I jetted off to the mountains and cold clear water of North West Corfu. Foolishly I forgot to pack my travel rod, but I would have been seriously under-gunned against a gang of Albanians packing spear guns and snorkels who chased the most baby of Bass from rock to rock. Next time, because there will be a next time as the whole week proved to be a bit of a success, the 9ft 8wt rod is going in along with a float rod for tiddler bashing off the rocks.

At home, control was ceded to parents who kept everything ticking over beautifully.... and spoiled the dogs. I am told that the intense rain lifted the river and sent some blanket weed bowling on downstream dragging out Ranunculus as it went. There are a few bare patches, and the level is as it was before we left, but the river definitely looks fresher for a flush of water. Some trees are already shedding leaves adding to the early autumnal feel,and the apples and pears are dropping from the trees, but the grass has gone into overdrive and much of days since my return have been taken up with mowing and strimming.

The Pheasants have arrived, and what a multicultural bunch they are, with poults of all shades and sizes from tiny pale and white to the big black and melanistic; who knows how they will fly, but they all seem to be sticking around. The rain has brought their feathers on and they look in pretty good knick. The introduction of the poults into the pen draws the attention of the resident pheasants who sidle over to check out the new kids on the block. We seem to have quite a few of last year’s birds about, judging by the number feeding on the rides around the pen.

The Maize has shot up with the warm wet weather although the Combine has drawn to a halt and the wheat in the fields that we shoot over is starting to look a little black. About fifteen years ago, heavy rain at this time of the year left part of the wheat crop unharvested and the seed dropped out in the field, subsequently the parish was full of portly pheasants and the food bill was minimal for that year.

After successive winters when the duck shooting has been poor, I am feeding the pond a month earlier to see if we can attract ducks and establish an early feeding pattern. With the heavy rain, Farmer Palmer has had little to do but drag around his plough and disks and little stubble remains. The ducks need somewhere to R&R, so why not the pond? Plastic ducks bob seductively, and barley is on tap to attract all but the most fickle fowl. I’ll leave plenty of cover for a few weeks and hopefully word will get round the duck world that this is the place to be.

Our Rainbows are soon to depart. Fin perfect lumps of four to five pounds they will make their debut on the angling scene at the local big fish water, I wish them well, next year’s lot arrive four days later.

Plenty of Owls

2011-08-08T20:51:00.003+01:00

We have had some rain and we have had some sun, the wind got up and a few branches fell down. The fishing? I could prevaricate a little more, but may as well get to the point. Still hard work, river low and not much really happening. Fish have been taken on nymphs, plain ones with anything flashy or splashy scaring more than it attracts, and a lots of juvenile browns dimple the surface for much of the day, but the big lumps lie doggo doing little. On the plus side the fly life has been pretty good. We have some reasonable hatches of Sedges and Medium Olives, and numbers of Blue Winged Olive are up on recent years. Most mornings this past week, I have opened the door to retrieve the paper and found a dozen or more BWO’s taking a rest on the front door and surrounding wall, no wind this week so hopefully a few Sherry Spinners will get back on the water to lay their eggs. The next weed cut is imminent but bar a little titivating there is very little that can be done. A family of Swans burst onto the scene one day this week and the water in front of the fishing hut dropped an inch after an hour of them pulling at weed. With water aplenty, the impact would have been negligible, but with water at a premium they have significantly affected the level of the water in a short stretch of river that holds a lot of fish, weed cover is lost and water level reduced, exposing the fish population to avian predators that seek an easy feast on fish trapped in shallow water. The fringe, left thick to squeeze the flow, is a riot of colour and a momentary distraction from the arduous fishing.

The Combine has been around and done the rape revealing a few well grown fox cubs, and the barley in our back field looks fit, but small and with short straw. The stubble attracted many Owls on the night after it was cut, my wife counted five while driving down the road at dusk, seeking critters exposed by the Combine's perambulations.

It is not just the Owls who are attracted by the easy pickings of a fresh cut corn field. Pikeys abound at the moment and a midnight raid on several sheds in the village resulted in the loss of several mowers and hedges cutters, cut cornfields provide easy access to back entrances and no matter what vehicle they turn up in, an alternative route home if pursued.

We have a few wild Pheasant about, and this week I have been getting our release pen ready for the arrival of our own Pheasants. Unfortunately a Roe deer looks to have got stuck in the pen in recent months and has trashed large parts of the fence in his efforts to escape. Radios are installed and the electric fence erected in keen anticipation of the eight week old poults arrival.

Recent articles by The Wild Trout Trust in the angling press have given cause for concern. It is irresponsible to peddle propaganda on fishery management policy in a national publication. I have previously banged on at length at the nonsense of a national fishery management strategy for the rivers of these Isles; what works for one river does not necessarily hold for all, media savvy cheerleaders encouraging all and sundry to have a go at this and that is irresponsible. Recent articles have centred on stocking policy and the merits of diploid and triploid trout. I could cut and paste ten thousand emailed words,cordial and considered, between myself and a high ranking WT man over the merits of each from which the only conclusion I can draw is that the “Final solution” for the WT is an end to stocking. If those who rely on stocking to maintain a commercially viable fishery are forced to stock with Triploid Brown trout and their use is banned (as it already is in some parts of Europe) will the WT and EA defend their use?
I have my doubts and with the stocking of diploid trout no longer possible, stocking will effectively have been banned and many fisheries will no longer be commercially viable.

If Jesus were a wildfowler

2011-07-21T20:53:00.003+01:00

The July weed cut came and went with most scythes on this river standing undisturbed. The local “big fish” water fired up their water borne pantechnicon to snip the ends from some ribbon weed but most river flora was left untouched. Despite the wet weather, the river’s flow continues to diminish and fishing is understandably hard. Evening time has seen some good hatches of Sedge that have induced some feeding activity, and many fish occupying a mid water station and above will look at surface flies both natural and artificial but presentation must be bang on to induce a proper rise. More big Grayling have been caught with several around the two pound mark.
One evening I had a couple of hours on the pond banging out twenty odd Rudd, Roach and Perch on float fished maggot. Brian the brainless bronze bream put in another appearance. Stuck at around four pound he doesn’t put up much of a fight and for all the times that he has been caught he is in pretty good condition. With a perfect mouth and a small scar behind his dorsal fin he is undoubtedly a nice looking fish, just not very bright. I had hoped for a few Tench but was plagued by small perch who even snaffled two grains of sweetcorn fished hard to the bottom. There are a few Crucians Carp in the pond, although none have been caught for a few years. Notorious “home bodys” Crucians do not cruise a pond like Commons or Mirrors but have their local haunts that they stringently stick to. In my youth I fished a shallow marl pit from which we only caught Rudd, until, by accident, fishing hard to a particular reed bed we had an afternoon bagging up on Crucians. None could be caught in any other part of the pond, but pop a float in a particular spot and out would come a six ounce Crucian. I am sure, that given enough time,a similar spot in our pond, where all the Crucians hang out, could be located.

This week I received the gift of Barley. If Jesus had been a wildfowler he would have placed this higher up his wish list than Gold, Frankincense or Myrrh. A tonne of last year’s yellow gold pulled from the bowels of a grain dryer and bagged up in readiness for September when we start feeding ducks into the pond. There are a few Ducks about, and we currently have a few tufties on both the pond and the river, a bit of early feeding could bring an improvement on recent year's sport.

While we are on the colour yellow, in a Sesame street style of way, Hampshire is currently under siege from ragwort. Bright gold and nasty, it is poisonous to all things equine and bovine and has also been linked to some respiratory complaints in human beans. It used to be pulled up, we still pull it up whenever it appears around here, and Hampshire County Council had gangs that were employed to pull it from the roadside. For whatever reason this no longer takes place and ragwort has become firmly established with some roadside verges a swathe of gold.

They're in, and seeing it like a football!

2011-07-07T22:02:00.003+01:00

In the name of cricket we recently had cause to trundle up the Bourne and Wallop Brook valleys, the Wallop brook is underground for a large part of its length and the Bourne unfishable above the Vitacress farm at St Marybourne. The flow on our stretch has reduced even further, a brief stop on returning from a quest for tractor parts to the head of this valley, revealed that the river had all but dried up at the gauging station at Western Colley. Throughout the length of the river, Keepers and Fishery managers are desperately trying to make best use of a diminishing resource, diverting water from minor carriers, closing down hatches, pushing water through stock ponds, allowing the margins to grow in and the weed to break the surface, anything possible to hold the water up.

In cricketing terms some of our fish are now “in” and “seeing it a like a football” Some that were hooked and lost earlier in the season, the equivalent of being dropped in the slips, are a little more cautious but others will rise and nose most offerings rejecting confidently the majority of artificials put in front of them. Some fish have been taken and an improvement in midday hatches of Olives has certainly perked things up, but presentation is still key, lighter lines and smaller flies that settle lightly on the surface reaping rewards whenever fish have been interested. This time last year we had a river full of fish who had become preoccupied with sub surface feeding, a few are currently in this state but most still look up for sustinance, and three days ago, a Grayling of just over two pounds, a big fish for this river, was taken on an Olive Klinkhammer.

The return of the Otters has not helped the fishing, a few half eaten eels and trout on the bank each morning betray their return. We have new batteries on the electric fence around the ponds, and so far the stock fish have been left alone. Video surveillance by a friend on the middle river revealed electric arcs throughout the night as damp Otters made attempts to gain access to ponds guarded by an electric fence. Several hours of video resembled a night in the north taking in the Aurora Borealis, as either an army of Otters nosed at the fence, or several persistence critters kept coming back for more.

We have two large broods of young pheasant in the long grass by the top shallows, I came across one lot dusting on a bit of bank I had scalped with the mower and they didn’t look to be more than a few weeks old. We have a few young ducks about including a bunch of tufties on the pond, much of the juvenile mallard on the river are now three quarter size but not yet independent. Moorhens abound, to Otis’s delight, and we may have to hit them hard this winter. Further down the guest list, Voles are in the house, along with grass snakes, slow worm and millions of Muntjac. In a Moth rich environs the first few funny flutterers are banging around the light shades of an evening and a Nightingale sang its song the other night. On the fruit front, we have trees laden with apples and pears, and Blackbirds grow giddy on the ripe cherries that fall from our tree in the garden, the plum trees however stand like a quartet of eunuchs, four in number and not a plum between them

Tricky Fishing

2011-07-01T21:36:00.004+01:00

Fishing for Brown Trout on this stretch of river is currently very challenging, and it has been a few weeks since anyone returned home with their four fish limit. In crystal clear water moving at half revs, the fish get a good long look at what is being offered. Fish have been taken by those who have persevered and fined down their tackle, last evening one of the biggest fish of the season, a tubby Brown of just under five pounds, was taken on a Sedge, a beautiful fish stocked last year or the year before, and worth four fish in May. Several large Grayling have been taken on the surface along with many undersize Brown Trout currently learning the trade. Fly life has been a little disappointing with hatches of midday Olives not a patch on last year although sedge fishing has been what it should for the time of year.

The lack of water? take it as read, I have been asked to “let it go” for the sake of my marriage.

Some swans have hatched off cygnets on the Common land below and each day they make concerted efforts to breakfast on our bars of Ranunculus. They can’t be that hungry because they vacate the premises as soon as the wobbly spaniel puts in an appearance, but a few hours of them pulling at weed would result in us losing several inches of water on the bottom bends. It is comforting to know that the wobbly spaniel still has a role play, as he is on his last leg, though don’t tell the swans who currently put him on a par with “he who shall not be named“. There is bitch in season in this parish and the Labrador with a butt to rival J Lo is in pieces and full of ideas about scattering his seed, wobbly spaniel is immune, or else he considers himself a swan, and his advances each morning are in fact foreplay, I wouldn’t put it past him, he has done far stranger things. I have not seen many broods of Pheasant or Partridge on my bumbles about, the intense showers of recent weeks may have done for a number of newly hatched chicks.

We have several snakes, grassy ones, one of which gave our resident painter, GP Jenkins decorator to the rich and famous (an advert, but he did buy me a drink) a start when it popped out from behind a window sill he was painting, we have had one in the pond and another crossed the road while walking the dogs one evening. I have also had cause to pull a bat from tree that had become entangled in some discarded nylon. Funny little things and far more numerous than we think, it was hanging upside down six inches above the surface of the river. Carefully untied, as the thin skin upon which they fly is incredibly fragile, it was given some R&R in the woodshed before taking flight in the night. Over the years, several rods have hooked bats while fishing late at night and there seem to be plenty of them about in these parts.

Work this week has mostly centred around cutting grass, with the warm weather and heavy showers, you can almost see the grass grow. I have topped the meadows, skirting the orchids, giving them a few more weeks to let seed develop, and done much strimming. The fringe, although full of colour, has bolted and will need the top taken off next week if any fish are to be caught.

Kingfishers at 12 oclock!

2011-06-22T21:17:00.004+01:00

Well we’ve had some rain, days of steady stuff, some of which will have got down into the ground. Numerous intense showers have flooded the road and run quickly off into the river adding a flush of colour and a brief lift before quickly returning to its current default level. The weed cut has now ended and nothing came down from up river, we sent our cut-weed on down the river with a day to spare, and what normally takes half a day took a little longer due to the reduced flow.
Fishing has become quite tricky. Fish have been caught, including several around the three pound mark but it has taken a lot of effort. Some who have camped on a midwater fish for an hour, have toured their fly box and been rewarded for their travels/travails.
There are few free-risers bar a brace of errant Rainbows, although many undersize fish have been spotting the surface on the shallows. Today an angler had his hook straightened on the middle bends by a fish he thought was around six pounds. There is a fish on that stretch that has been hooked and lost for the last three seasons, but it is considerably bigger than six pounds. Whichever fish it was, it will be another dark sulky lump on the bed of the river for the coming months.

The Millstream that was formed by man hundreds of years ago to turn the wheel at the Mill, is now a pond. As the river drops, water is diverted from the millstream to maintain the flow on the main channel; in times of flood, the mill stream carries extra water away from the main channel to prevent excessive flooding. In it’s current benign state, it is almost unfishable, bar the bit in front of the house and the top twenty yards where it first forms. Currently it is home to a huge shoal of Minnows. Mum and Dad must have thought it a good place to spawn when the water was flowing, but now the water is gone, things look bleak for their babies, Kingfishers congregate and war has broken out between a pair at the top of this stretch and a rival pair just below our bottom boundary. Both pairs appear to be feeding young, and continually chase the other pair up and down the narrow channel. One day this week, while making my stately passage through the ford with the trailer on the back, they passed, shrieking at low level, between trailer and vehicle. A walk along the road with the wobbly dog is often accompanied by the whine of Kingfishers dog-fighting over a plate of minnows; a plate of minnows that may not have been as accessible had the river not been managed by man.

The student from Sparsholt has returned north. A useful and entertaining addition for three weeks he should go far in the Fishery Management field, although the canny Carp in the pond defeated him. He did hook a couple fishing on the surface but both fish were lost. The few that remain are around fifty years old, double figures and pretty cute. The Perch, Roach and Rudd proved to be more obliging along with Brian the brainless Bream who, at this week's weigh in, clocked four pound. A few Tench have put in a an appearance around the Lillies and I hope to have a go myself sometime soon.

I was invited to fish a stretch of the Kennet by a friend who provides one of the premier country-store retail experiences in the area. Beer and an excellent lunch were taken and an enjoyable afternoon followed on plenty of water in Berkshire. The keeper was worried about water levels (obviously) but the fishing was good, with fish taking Olives from mid afternoon on. I had several fish on a Klinkhammer before thunder and lightning (not the fly) hove into view and I exited stage left. I have yet to fish the Kennet and not catch a trout, even when fishing for Barbeland Chub. A pretty and productive river it needs to be looked after, this stretch is obviously in good hands.

Just a bit off the fringe, and no gel!

2011-06-16T22:39:00.002+01:00

Well we had some rain, a whole day of it, and a few showers to follow on, but I had cause to dig up some potatoes one day this week and the soil was like dust ten inches down and the potatoes the size of peas. No matter who you talk to up and down the river, the conversation inevitably turns to the lack of water. The current wet week does nothing for the aquifers, if it doesn’t rain from November to March the rivers that run through chalk are stuffed. With the June weed cut upon us, I had a quick scout up the valley to see what weed was likely to come our way, not much to speak of but the river at Western Colley, a mile and a bit below the point at which the river normally puts in an appearance was a foot below the measuring station and not far drying up. We are informed that the aquifers are marginally below average levels. A mile above Western Colley lie ponds that have been in regular use for Salmonid production, bar this year, they have they been unusable only once in recent memory due to lack of water and then towards the end of the Summer; we have a long way to go this season and the river will only get lower from here on.
I could go on, but my wife says I am getting obsessed with the water issue to the extent that I admonish her for bringing a glass of the stuff to bed.

Fishing picked up towards the end of this week, with several fish looking to the surface following a post mayfly nap to take medium Olives from midday through to mid evening, a few sedge are about along with the occasional Mayfly but most fish caught have been taken on Olive patterns or a Daddy Long Legs. We have cut some weed, the Ranunculus on the top shallows was of sufficient thickness to justify a bar cut along with some of the celery on the middle bit, the rest I will tittivate to a reasonable state of tidiness and leave to hold up the water, In Coiffure parlance, a trim of the fringe over a short back and sides. While we have blanket weed in the stew ponds there are no signs of it in the river, although this could change as the water temperature rises; the neighbouring “Big Fish” water has already recorded water temperatures above twenty degrees Celsius.

I am a week or two behind in topping the meadows. Diktat dictates that “thy meadow shalt remain unmowed until the first week of this month” For the mower’s absence, this year we have been rewarded with an even better display of Orchids than last year’s show. Numbers of phallic purple pretties must run into the hundreds, although the grass is a tad long, but I won’t mount the tractor until they have finished.

The home grown mixed sex brown trout fry are thriving on river water, although they draw the regular attention of a kingfisher with young to feed. There is a huge shoal of Grayling fry on the shallows by the ford and parts of the pond shimmer with Roach, Rudd and Perch fry. A brief trawl of the pond with a number one Mepps produced several Perch who will grow fat consuming silver fish fry in the coming months.

I don't believe it!

2011-06-06T14:59:00.002+01:00

Today we have received a message from EA central, Airstrip One, Oceania. An old fashioned message sent with a stamp but containing a poster that we are to display in a prominent position and three hundred words of fishery management advice on signs of drought conditions, fish in distress and possible courses of action.
One of the principle signs of drought conditions according to the faceless “Inner Party” are ponds that are half full/empty and a sure sign of fish in distress is dead fish on the surface of the water.
Also in the envelope were two sides of doublespeak assuring the reader that aquifer levels were only marginally down on the seasonal averages and there really was very little to worry about.
Accuse me of “Facecrime” but I am incredulous at the claims made by the Government appointed agency. In “Oldspeak” It’s an absolute load of b******s The Aquifers in this part of the valley are the lowest I have seen in my twenty years on this stretch and I have not seen the spring ditches that feed this river rise such a short distance from the river. For the Environment Agency to peddle the lie to the general public that we have enough water in the ground for the coming summer is a disgrace. There are many others who hold this view and are concerned that the Governing body who could do something to protect the amount of water that we have in the ground are apparently blind to the problem.

Breathe, Breathe!

The Mayfly are still hatching but few fish show interest. After a couple of good weeks in which most fish gorged themselves, most are now sated. We have had some of the heaviest hatches for some years with plenty of Spinners getting back down on the water. The Yellow Sallies are hatching now, which is always an indication that Mayfly time is coming to a close. A few Blue Winged Olives have put in an appearance, and numbers of Sedge seem to be building a few weeks earlier than normal. Some big fish have been lost this week which means we will have a few sulky lumps in the deeper stretches throughout the Summer and several Grayling around the 2lb mark have also been caught.

Our gamecover was drilled several weeks ago, and after a shower of rain earlier in the week has put its nose above the soil, which has now returned to dust. In the water meadows we have another good show of Orchids with at least three different “pinky purple” types. Some of the weed in the river has now broken surface and it may be possible to hold a bit of water up after the weed cut that starts next week. A perennial passage to play cricket amongst the horses and cows of the New Forest takes us over the Avon at Braemore. Last year there was flowering Ranunculus as far downstream as the eye could see. This year the river was down to its bare bones with very little weed showing.

I have a Sparsholt student with me for three weeks on a work placement, embarking on his first year of a Bsc in Fishery Management. The course is similar to the one that I completed a long time ago, although the entry requirements seem to have changed. A Level requirements are similar but there is now no longer a requirement for at least twelve months experience in the industry to gain entry onto the course. This may be because of the difficulty in finding twelve-month placements for so many students. Fewer hours are spent at college and the amount of vocational placements during the course have also been cut, along with the hours spent in college. The Course tutor, who visited last week, was present during my time at the College. The number of courses offered has risen dramatically and large numbers of students now graduate each year looking for jobs in the Fish Farming and Fishery Management field. He explained that most want to work with Carp in France or chase Cats on the Ebro, areas of work that were unheard of when I completed my course. But there seems to be a lot of students leaving college each year, chasing a diminishing number of Fishery Management jobs.

Magnificent Mayfly!

2011-05-26T21:54:00.006+01:00

This week has seen some of the best hatches of Mayfly in recent years on this stretch of river. Nothing much doing in the morning with any fish caught falling to Olive patterns, Mayfly have started to hatch around midday and between 4pm and 7pm the air has been thick with mayflies, with some spots boiling as fish dash around to take flies from the surface. Some fish leap to snatch already airborne flies, while others have taken to the spent Mayfly and will touch nothing else. Wind was a problem for part of the week, and prevented some Mayflies from returning to the river to lay their eggs, but for the last few days there have been high numbers of Mayflies flopping down on the water to die and lay their eggs. A shower of rain led to some ditching on the shiny rain covered road, and while parking our car on our return from our weekly trip to the local food emporium several bounced up and down on the shiny bonnet to jettison their ball of eggs. Some anglers who fish other waters report that the Mayfly is almost done, here it is in full swing and nothing short of spectacular.

Our house is in turmoil at the moment, the kitchen is being "zazzed up" and my wife is busy daubing undercoat and gloss paint on any visible woodwork. At the weekend a few friends fished and several others dropped in throughout the morning, "Child A" returned, from whence we know not, with boyfriend in tow, and "Child B" had various cricketing friends turn up; subsequently a party developed. With the house upside down we opted to drink beer in the sunshine and set fire to a variety of meat products by the fishing hut. Some fished and others just chatted, but while food and drink were taken, a Blackbird held us rapt as it sang its head off, before perching on the handrail of the bridge to take brief flight and clumsily pluck hatching Mayflies from the skies; not as agile as the Wagtails or as spectacular as the Swallows and Swifts but entertaining nonetheless, some he got, some he missed, he will probably have just about got the hang of it by the end of the Mayfly.

We have had rain, but only brief showers. The grass has greened up but the river is still falling away. Some of the water celery has broken surface and it may be possible to bar cut some of the river to hold up the level. The Ranunculus looks decidedly ropey, some is turning brown and only the bits in the faster stretches of the top shallows will flower this year. Hatches of midday Olives are down on previous years and I have yet to see a Blue Winged Olive, Sedges are early with good numbers of small brown and black.

There is a lot of mowing and strimming to be done at this time of the year, and the showers of rain have caused several leaf laden branches to drop, these must be cut back where they block paths or restrict casting. The fish in the hatchery are now out on river water and doing well, around an inch and a half long they are very pale when first put onto the gravel bottom of the fry stew but within an hour they have darkened and are very difficult to spot, although the nesting kingfisher seems to have got his eye in. There are fry in the margins of the pond, a scoop through a shoal with a net revealed that they are mostly Roach and Rudd, but with the odd Bream and Tench, no Carp from what I can see.

My employer has been away this week, fishing the Carron with family and friends. They had some success, but returned a day early because of heavy rain that lifted the river by five feet! Following devolution the Scots followed their own path on many issues from university fees to prescription charges. It transpires that they also established diplomatic links with the rain gods and are investing heavily in all available precipitation, to the detriment of the Sassenachs in the southeast, they must be laughing their heads off!

Blanket weed in May!

2011-05-18T21:04:00.001+01:00

A metrosexual tit (it’s not in any bird book) employed as a radio reporter, was dispatched by the lunchtime news programme this week to report on the dry conditions in the south east of England. He travelled to the river Itchen at Eastleigh and reported that the river was flowing, ducks were quacking, Swans were swimming, Otters were ottering and the ice cream was lovely; the river had water in and he couldn’t see what all the fuss about. Had he travelled to the headwaters of this river, he could have reported on spring ditches that are dry and a river fast disappearing before our eyes. Cracks in the ground big enough to take a hand would provide a perfect opportunity for dramatic visual reporting, much arm waving and tales laden with doom. A missed opportunity for our intrepid reporter but then we are just that little bit further away from the M3. The middle river will always feel the pinch less than the headwaters.

Out and about on fish business, much of the conversation is centred around the water level. A visit to a stretch at the very top of the Test that we have stocked for many years revealed a river down to its bare bones, gin clear and full of Brown Trout from parr to fish of a great age, it has been stocked with mixed sex Brown Trout for some years, a practice that will be forcibly discontinued in years to come. The middle river is fishing well and on a recent excursion the colour of the water seemed to be much improved on recent years, although this may be due to the reduced flows. Most report good hatches of Mayfly. On the stretch at the top of the main river that does not normally see many Mayflies I saw several spent Mayflies crash landing down on to the water.

At home the fishing has been very good. A lot of fish have been caught, predominantly between 4pm and 6pm on Mayfly patterns. Mayfly have started to hatch from late morning onwards peaking around 4pm with fish rising hard to slash at the surface fly. Biggest fish to date is four and half pounds, fin perfect and probably stocked a couple of years ago, hauled from an Irish Lough on a dapped Mayfly many would swear it was “wild” whatever “wild” means these days.
On the over-widened shallows of the ford, there are large shoals of fry, some tiny Grayling, and Trout approaching an inch long, the cry from some quarters that prolonged stocking with mixed sex Brown Trout hinders replenishment of this river’s stock does not hold here.

Lack of water is raising problems in the stew ponds, The jumbo Rainbows that we rear for the neighbouring big fish water, are always likely to get a bit “gilly” in low flows with protozoan parasites thriving in the stale conditions. Salt treatments help along with Formalin but the sign of blanket thriving in one of the ponds in mid May hints at troubled times ahead.

Mayfly time

2011-05-10T20:03:00.003+01:00

Finally it rained, two inches over consecutive nights. A spectacular thunderstorm one night and steady rainfall the following night tainted the water and briefly lifted the level by a midge's dick, but it has since dropped down to last week’s level. It takes a lot of rain at this time of the year to affect aquifers, demand for water is high at this time of year and little is left to save in the underground piggy bank.

Fishing has been good with the Hawthorn now over and the Mayfly begun. A few fish were caught last week on small sedges and today, for the first time this year, fish were caught on Mayflies. Biggest fish so far is just over three pounds and had probably been in the river for at least a couple of seasons. Generally the fish caught have over wintered well although two lanky fish have been caught both very silver fish of around two pounds. Fish have risen when fly have been on the water, although midday Olives have been noticeable by their absence. As is the case most years early season fish have risen short or crashed the fly, both natural and artificial; occasional clumsiness that will fade as the feast of flies on the surface develops through the coming weeks.

The birds have found the Mayfly and put on an entertaining afternoon aerobatic display. Swallows and Swifts hit the rising flies at high speed while Wagtails dash from the bank to pluck them feet from the surface sometimes off a rising trout's nose. If in a later life, I have to come back in another form, please not as a Mayfly who must annually endure the invertebrate equivalent of “going over the top”

In the hedge bordering the field of wheat behind our house an English Partridge sits on eggs; the first that I have seen in this field for some time. When our chickens were at the top of the garden we once had a huge brood of English Partridge that would come and feed with Pocahontas (the children were young then and our chooks had names) and chums. The estate who own the land have put a lot of work into encouraging English Partridge on the surrounding land but to date results have been disappointing. We have seen them on our shooting days, but not for some years. The intense showers that we have seen in recent days provide a big test for young chicks of all birds bar wildfowl. This lot could do with a bit of a break and I’ve half a mind to lend them my fishing umbrella just in case. Several pheasants are sitting on eggs in the Christmas tree plantation, and surprisingly Otis the arse gives them a wide birth on our morning preamble.

Currently Fishermen are ensconced throughout the valley with numbers swelling each day. An influx of guides parade, tackle shops titivate displays, picnics are prepared and many more set themselves for a perennial boost to business provided by a fly that takes an incredible hammering from all quarters, but thankfully,keeps coming back for more.

A Baobab perhaps?

2011-05-04T21:07:00.004+01:00

Finally people are talking about the lack of water. Thirty-five days here with little enough rain to do for the dust. An enlightened MP raised a question at PMQ’s about possible water shortages and suggested that farmers and horticulturists be given free rein to take water from rivers to make up for any short fall they may experience from depleted reservoirs and ground water supplies. I don’t think such action would affect this stretch of river too much, but in some parts off the country it could have a major affect on discharge. The source of the Thames is already dry above Lechlade and perhaps the MP wasn’t required to study the water cycle at school; rivers require rain for their flow; the water doesn’t just keep on coming! The quest for alternative sources of energy is carried out with incredible zeal. Anything from solar panels on every roof (we have several phone offers a week, even one to site a panel on the car roof if we park it in the right place) to growing Hamsters with thighs of thunder that could turn a wheel really fast. The provision of water needs to be given an equal footing. We cannot keep pulling more and more water out of the ground and out of our rivers as the population increases, look to store rain that falls or desalinate sea water and return the waste efficiently from whence it came, as they do in countries with far harsher climates than this.

The fishing here has been steady, with every fish so far caught on a Hawthorn mostly in the middle of the day. As is often the case early in the season, fish can rise clumsily as they adjust to a food source on the surface and several miss the fly, both natural and artificial. The fish in the river have over wintered well and there is no sign off any fish with fungus on their noses as can be the case early some seasons. The Roach look to have spawned, as have the Carp in the pond, although some of the tree roots on which they have laid their eggs in previous years are out of the water. Marsh Marigolds are out along with pungent Ramsens, accompanied by brown patches of grass rather than the usual verdant sward. The last dry summer we had, several trees shed leaf early. The Horse Chestnuts are currently as good as they get, covered in candles and dark green leaves, but in a month brown patches will appear as the annual virus puts in its appearance. Climate change gurus would suggest that the South is getting more Mediterranean and that we should be turning to Olives and Grapes, but the Olive Tree we have here looks to be struggling, maybe Baobabs are the answer.

We have Swallows and after last year’s “no show” some Martins, still no Swifts although they have been bombing around the cricket ground a mile away for a few weeks. Plenty of Ducks, with several nesting, but where are they all going in the winter? Not to our pond judging by recent years' flighting. Half way up the river a Water Rail sits on eggs on the quiet far bank, half a dozen spotted cream mini eggs, and a Kingfisher is busy in the bank on the top shallows. No Otters at the moment, the fear of Richard Madeley continues with his two week stint on the breakfast show over Easter continuing to strike fear into the local Otter population.

Hair by Annette

2011-04-24T19:30:00.002+01:00

A warm week with the temperature consistently above twenty degrees has broken all buds bar the Oak, Ash and Mulberry. Last time we had an April such as this we had a pretty poor summer. Hawthorn are everywhere from mid morning on, and I wouldn’t mind betting that every fish caught next week, when we open, is on a Hawthorn imitation. Unfortunately the warm weather has brought on the filthy brown algae that rises in clumps from the slower moving reaches of the riverbed and breaks up as it passes through broken water, tainting the water. It’s the stuff that colours the water early season on the middle river and down and seems to get worse each year. A good scour through the winter normally helps but it is something that we all need to get a handle on if early season water quality is to return to what it was only a short time ago. I have said it before and I will say it again, I can clearly remember the first time I saw a Grayling, it was in late April twenty five years ago when I was being interviewed for work experience on the middle river, the fish was in six feet off water along with a bunch off Roach getting on for three pounds, If I looked off the same road bridge late in the past few Aprils, a Hippopotamus could have lain in the same hole undetected. Early season water quality remains a problem undressed throughout this river system.

We have our first ducklings and for much of the week the errant goose, who last year eloped for an exotic week with some Canadians, has looked to the skies in search of adventure but none have given her the call. Oedipus stands primed, the first deed done, waiting to make his move, while we anticipate a plague of infertility and crop failure. On the pond the warm shallow water has instigated some early spawning behaviour, with the Carp that the Otter left, heading for the tree roots to spawn. A group of tufted Duck are on the pond most mornings although the water level may be a little low for diving Ducks to feel comfortable for long. On the top shallows the Ranunculus is in fine form and drawing the attention of swans that drop down from the top water meadow. An established pair of swans that try to nest each year on the pond chase off the young pretenders, and generally leave the weed at the top alone, preserving the prolific growth for any prospective progeny.

Bank Holidays galore at the moment and for the first ones, wife and I headed north on family business. Junior was left in charge along with daughter, whenever she got back from the beach. First stop was Cheshire, where the rains broke and we had a terrific but brief thunderstorm. It was a flying visit, and not long since our last, but each time more and more buildings have been given the Farrow and Ball heritage treatment, brickwork cleaned up, and a smart white Audi plonked outside. It is a far more salubrious county than the one my wife and I grew up in, but signs of countryside activity still abound. Cows are in fields, where good grass maintains a long established dairy industry. Market gardening continues to thrive on the sandy soil, fields of potatoes lie ridged up, and pass any canal bridge on a weekend, and cars parked betray a host of anglers chasing Bleak, Roach and Bream. The high streets of the two villages that my wife and I grew up in now host wine bars, boutiques and salons to satisfy the most idle of footballer’s wives. The wooden DIY stores of Charlie Paraffin and Harold Hughes were done for by Homebase and Focus Do It All and their under the counter supply of hooks, maggots and Arlesey bombs, lost to a generation of local anglers. “Hair by Annette” is still there, although Mr Swaffield who also cut hair for less than a pound, at the back of his newsagents while watching the racing is no longer in operation. A hunt continues to thrive and marl pits full of Rudd, Crucians and Tench are dotted across the county, and a good friend currently farms dendrobaenas (www.vermisell.co.uk) so there is still a bit of bait around; look beyond the bling and brushed metal, and much still remains the same.

We moved further north for a family party in the lakes, it rained, and on Cockermouth high street the Farrow and Ball heritage range was, once again very much to the fore. Two years ago the town was devastated by floods, with the high street under six feet of water after the Derwent and Cocker burst their banks. Much of the town has undergone a facelift and vital bridges replaced and repaired. The river looked pretty benign on our brief visit, but a brief trawl of youtube revealed a video of our hotel under siege from water and a helicopter hovering overhead plucking people from the roof.
Bank holiday and the lakes were full of people. Dressed to the nines in the latest Gore-Tex, bearing collapsible walking sticks and donning shoes made from Kevlar, Like fishing, and so many other pursuits, Fell walking can look an expensive business, but I can remember popping up and down many a peak in jeans and Dr Martins with an ex army canvas rucksack containing twenty Bensons, a cagoule, pot noodle and map. We got up, took in the view, and got down, survival was never an issue, unless someone had forgotten the matches!

Hawthorn are here

2011-04-15T21:24:00.001+01:00

One week to go before the season starts. We have our first Swallows and the Cuckoo has turned up. Lady’s smock and marsh marigolds are all out in the meadows and each morning the dawn chorus builds. The river is low, Hawthorn flies are about and we have had the obligatory flush of April Daddy Long Legs. A dry winter normally results in us being inundated with Daddies midsummer and imitations will catch a fair share of fish. Not seen too many Olives on the water this week, with Brown Trout taking smaller stuff off the surface, with the weed yet to get going many of the Browns remain bunched up in the deeper holes. The Grayling look to have done their business and have also vacated the shallows. I have caught a couple of magpies in the Larson trap, but currently lag behind the neighbouring Trout lakes who currently have birds to spare. For whatever reasons the number of Jay and Magpie stalking this parish appear to be down on recent years, which is good news for the remainder of the bird population.

With low flows, tinning has been a waste of time this winter, and some silt remains on some of the bends, there is nothing like good winter flows for scouring and cleaning the river, in motherly terms the equivalent of a rough face scrub with a wet flannel. It looks like we are in for a summer of letting the margins grow in, and leaving as much weed as possible to make the river channel as small as possible to maintain maximum speed of flow. Right now we are stuck with what we have got, as little rain is forecast for the foreseeable future. The fish in the hatchery are tubby and huge (about half an inch) and will soon be out in the pond supplied by river water, while the Rainbows that we grow for the neighbouring big fish water are ravenous and would eat twenty four hours a day if asked.

Earlier this week, we pushed the defrag button and headed off for a few days Carp fishing. Two Dads and two lads sitting behind bite alarms on a five-acre lake in the Champagne region of France. In fishing terms, a beach holiday anywhere in the sun. If pushed, it would not be my first choice of fishing, but it is very relaxed with cheese, wine, books to read and much joking from all quarters. The weather was fantastic, apart from one night when we had frost, and every night we were serenaded in our bivvies by a trio of Nightingales in the trees around the lake. We all caught fish from this newly opened lake, with three fish over thirty pounds and twenty something over twenty pounds. All the fish were in fantastic condition and provided great sport at all hours of the day. A similar lake that we fished a few years ago has recently been hit by an outbreak of SVC, a devastating disease that requires the culling of all stock and the lakes lying fallow for a considerable time and all bookings and income for the season have dissipated. In the Carp fishing business, stock and a reputation for quality fish is everything and a huge proportion of money invested is tied up in the fish in the lake. An outbreak of SVC can finish a Carp fishery off, as can predation or fish theft.

It's the Taste!

2011-04-07T10:25:00.002+01:00

What a warm week, the roof is nearly done and I anticipate a return to something like alpha male status once the roof candy has gone. Otis is also having a hard time, he passed his third birthday this week, twenty-one today, and some bitch in season has been parading up and down the road for the past few days, reducing his brain to mush. Twice on a walk he has bolted, stopping after a hundred yards to sit down and look back at me quizzically and ask “ Why the hell did I just do that?” thankfully the world’s worst spaniel has long since given up on that kind of caper, although by the time he’d followed the trail to the pot of gold, there is every chance that the mood would have passed and she would no longer be in season.

Buds are breaking out all over, and the birds are making a right racket for an hour from first light. There has been fly on the water from midday and well into the lighter and longer evenings, providing a welcome feast for much of the bird life although fish rise sporadically. The Carp in the pond have woken up and are quite active; I have been feeding them for a few weeks now, although this has also attracted the attention of a pair of swans who look like they may be about to nest. Bridge rebuilding plans have now moved on to plan E or was it plan F, I managed to save much of the oak deck from the smashed wreckage of the old bridge, and have replaced the runners with another split telegraph pole although getting the second hand timber to resemble something safe and straight is proving tricky. The fishing hut has had its annual timber treatment, and shows few signs of decay and the table and chairs patched up in preparation for the Brown Trout season, which is now just over two weeks away. Because of the roof chaos we did not have our annual fishing lunch, to which all the regular rods are normally invited, so the opening day of the season will be the first sight many have had of the river since they were last here in September. We have a few new faces, although an elderly lady who fished with us well into her eighties is now filing her return in the great fishing hut in the sky. We have a waiting list for midweek rods and any gaps are soon filled. Weekends are for family and friends, charity days and a few days let through Strutt and Parker.

We also attended the funeral of the lady who used to live next door. A chocolate box cottage with thatch and a large garden it also had a small bit of river frontage, she lived there for over thirty years before moving in with her son in a nearby village. At the end of each weed cut, I would clear down any cut weed from in front of her house, that, if left, caused water to back up a spring hole and flood some nearby allotments as well as having an affect on the bottom reaches of the stretch that I am responsible for. As I worked down the river she would invariably appear, no matter what time of day, with a steaming cup of something laced with liquor, rum usually, and would stand and chat until the cup was empty. She was great fun and when younger, our two children would bumble down to see her several times a week to bang away on her piano and eat better biscuits than they did at home.
When she told us that she was leaving she asked us if we would like the piano, as she had no room in her new quarters. We readily agreed and one day when my brother was visiting I asked if it would be ok if we came down in the tractor and trailer to pick it up. The lady was out for lunch, but as I was a key holder for her elaborate alarm system, it was ok to go on in and take the piano. All went well as we backed the trailer up to the patio doors heaved the piano up the ramp and closed the doors and reset the alarm, or so I thought. We put the tractor into the lowest gear possible, crawled across the back paddock and started to make our way up the road. After twenty yards, we heard the sirens. Police cars appeared, the road was blocked and our stately progress of less than a mile an hour was halted. My eight-year-old daughter ran home to leave her dad uncle, brother mum and grandma to give up their story. The alarm had triggered and alerted the police because I had not reset it correctly, the lady was summoned from her Sunday dinner with her son to reassure the law that we were not pedestrian piano thieves, or filming a new PG Tips ad, but neighbours who had been given the piano. We got it home and my daughter appeared from under the bed to bang away on the thing to grade four, before being distracted by boys and booze.
Toady the house is owned by some who live in town, and bar a few holiday lets is largely unused, a man lives in the garage to keep an eye on the place, and for some time someone would be summoned to shout things at me as I passed down the river with my scythe. Ipods are a wonderful invention, and I missed much of what was said, but a solicitor’s letter followed asking me to keep out of their river.
Unfortunately what they believed to be their river wasn’t. They owned some bank and a soupcon of fishing rights. The far bank is common land and the riverbed throughout the short stretch is owned by our neighbour on the other side who is happy for me to walk up and down on it clearing weed.
Riverbank, riverbed and fishing rights are three different areas of ownership where rivers are concerned, and fortunately I am permitted to cut the weed through this short section, because if I didn’t no one else would.

The Cuckoo is a pretty bird it singeth as it flies

2011-03-31T10:56:00.009+01:00

One line from a nursery rhyme ingrained on my memory from an interminable march north to fish the Tummel below Pitlochry one spring. Three year old and Five year old enthroned on the back seat insisted upon the tape for much of the drive. Somewhere around Shap my wife and I were in open rebellion and were arguing with the tape. The Cuckoo was not an effing pretty bird, was of questionable moral code, and had few friends; we only herald its appearance for one brief moment of the year before it drifts into the background to continue its sordid life! The Muffin Man who lives in Drury lane also copped some verbals around Ecclefechan. We stayed in a nice house on a hill above the town, but as with so many of our Salmon trips north we didn’t catch many fish. The highlight of the week was a drive along Loch Tay, that I have fished a few times and from which I once miraculously hauled a 21lb Salmon, before cutting round the side of Ben Lawers to drive down Glen Lyon. At one point we stopped for a potty break and the chosen spot was one of the most stunning places that anyone can have chosen to open their bowels, Five year old daughter wasn’t at all impressed by the four thousand foot peak that formed a back drop to a steep sided valley with twinkling stream and occasional signs of habitation, she just tinkled away loudly listing Pokemon, oblivious to the hundred or more Red Deer who had popped their heads over the brow at the sound of Pikachu and Bulbasaur.

Here no cuckoo “singeth” or “flyeth” but with twenty degrees forecast for the weekend it can’t be far away. The ink black flowers on the sedge in the fringe have popped out and the balsam poplars are starting to smell. A Cetti’s Warbler has turned up, they must have “bolt on app thingies” attached to their voice box because they are significantly louder than any other warbler, and sometimes don’t sound off until you are almost upon them. Ducks are paired up and there is a great deal of rape and pillage on the water. A pair of Swans are also gliding around, looking for a spot to nest. This time two years ago an Osprey stopped off on its way North, no surprise visitors so far this year although there are reports of a White Tailed Fish Eagle cruising the south coast, I think even my decaying eyes could spot that one if it turned up in a tree round here.

Much of the week has been spent getting ready for the start of our Trout Fishing season which is just under four weeks away. I have split a couple of telegraph poles down the middle and am halfway through replacing the bridge that was squashed by a an Ash Tree last October. I have also been patching up a weir, part of which blew out just after Christmas. There has been a weir on that particular spot for a very long time, with old piles in the river bed and bank, and heaps of broken staddle stones thrown in behind. The Ranunculus is pushing through in most places now, although I don’t see there being any to cut in late April other than the bit on the top shallows that flourished mid winter. Mid day hatches of fly continue to increase with most fish, bar the spawning Grayling, showing some interest. There is very little fungus on the Brown Trout in the river, although this may come on as the water temperature rises a few more degrees. The Fish in the hatchery are now an inch long and, with the river water as clear as it currently is it may be possible to get them out into the stew pond earlier than usual, too many suspended solids in the water and fish reared on crystal clear spring water inevitably pick up gill problems. Several new seats have been put up along the river carefully sited to give a vista of open water that can be observed for any sign of rising fish, although a call for cushions has fallen on deaf ears and been discretely ignored.

You can leave your hat on

2011-03-24T20:32:00.004Z

In the clear water I can see that a few Chub have turned up, nothing huge but half a dozen between one and two pound. A few years ago we had one of around four pound that moved around quite a bit. The Chub has a reputation for finding a tree root to sit under and being a sucker for slugs, but the fish that we have had here have always been reasonably nomadic and tricky to catch. The four pounder stuck out like a sort thumb and would move between the top and bottom of our stretch, once dropping right down the beat to come up the bottom of the mill stream and sit in the mill pool by the house for a few days before returning to the main river. I don’t know where this current influx of Chublets have come from, it may be pre spawning behaviour and there are plenty a few miles down in the middle river, although our friendly four pounder moved around regularly throughout the year.

The Grayling are looking to spawn and there are some very black fish currently on the shallows, no signs of any fungus but a few of the bigger ones will inevitably wash up white nosed and dead on the screens post spawning. The warm weather has also led to an increase in mid day hatches of fly, mostly medium Olives but more than enough to get the Browns excited, and the majority appear to be in good knick. The reed beds that I burned off a few weeks ago are now turning from black to green and the first blackthorn blossom has just put in an appearance. It will be interesting to see how the Hawthorn fishing is this year. The winter has been relatively dry which is good news for a fly based on terra firma, however we did experience some extreme and prolonged falls of snow and cold weather which may have done for a few.

My bionic loins saw a return to action this week and once again gave battle with Crack Willow. To date, I have rotated the areas with which I have slain the beast, trying to tackle each section around every five years. This year, under heavy fire, I have resorted to chemical weapons. Some of the stuff I cut down five years ago on the top shallows had grown to the thickness of Chris Hoy’s thigh. I have once again felled the f****** things and have administered a lethal injection to a few defiant stumps.

It’s chaos around here at the moment. Eight weeks of problems parking and heightened security as the roof on the Mill House is being replaced. A quirky roofline that has developed over five hundred years, it is more like five roofs of differing shapes shoved together. Grade II listing requires all of the tiles to be hand made from clay and come with a fifty-year guarantee. The logistics alone of getting twenty-six tonnes of tiles down from a higgledy-piggledy roof three storey high are mind-boggling. There is no room for skips and the only place a vehicle can draw alongside the scaffolding is at one end of the building. All twenty six tonnes of tiles were thrown five at a time along a chain of ten men lining the top of the scaffolding and dropped into a truck that whizzed up and down the road to a landfill site. depositing the broken pegs. The new tiles took the same return route with two roofers ripped with muscles and the shoulders of Atlas throwing new tiles, five at a time, to the third storey where a nimble cove in Hermes’ winged boots plucks them from the air and sets them on their way back along the chain; a “technology free” solution to a problem that would have set most heads scratching.
It has been warm this week and on the roof shirts have been shed. It’s a bit like "at home" with the Chippendales, and feelings of inadequacy are never far from the surface although the gloom is lifted by my wife, who has surprised me with her interest in roofing projects and normally has various extra curricular duties in her special needs role at the local school, promptly returning home when the school bell sounds.

Simmering anger at Woody Debris

2011-03-15T16:42:00.003Z

It has been brought to my attention that there is someone masquerading as me in the April issue of Trout and Salmon, an older brother perhaps? Whoever he is, he has far less hair than myself and appears far less virile. My daughter suggested the facial expression conveyed anger, determination or simmering madness. On reading the Wild Trout Trust article on Woody Debris in the same issue I think it is possibly the first and the last.

I can only speak from my own experience of managing a chalkstrem, where woody debris has its place and in some situations can be of some benefit to a stream. There has been woody debris in place on some parts of this river that predates the formation of the Wild Trout Trust, although on chalkstreams where weed cuts are heavy and coordinated so that everyone cuts weed at the same time, its uses are limited.

The Wild Trout Trust is undoubtedly well intentioned, but applying general rules to all rivers does not smack of “knowledgable river management” rather a “little bit of knowledge being a dangerous thing”.
I don’t believe that all successful management practices implemented on one river would work on every other river, and to issue the cry “To the woody debris everyone” is irresponsible.

One job at a time!

2011-03-14T20:53:00.002Z

The days have warmed up a little this past week, a trickle of Olives breaking surface, shaking the Brown Trout from their winter torpor to rise sporadically. The Grayling have other things on their minds; several hens of around two pound are shooed from the shallows on the ford each time I pass through on the tractor. No redds yet but undoubtedly frisky. The river is low and clear at the moment and they will soon draw the attention of the Little Egret and Heron that stab away at spawning fish on the shallows. I have seen fewer Cormorants this winter than recent years, although Otters are still rampaging up and down the valley. My son and his mate had quite a few Pike these past few weeks, nothing huge but numerous jacks to around six pound, good sport on a six foot spinning rod with a small mepps, but it requires a bit of local knowledge to avoid picking up the Browns. There is the odd Perch about, nothing like the two-pound fish he hauled out a few years ago, but none came to the mepps.

Officially I am still off lifting duties following a couple of hernias, so I have been on the digger much of the week, clearing out a couple of ditches that connect the mill stream to the main river and clearing up crack willow that I felled in a frenzy of cutting before the operation. I also had a go at some “multi tasking” by burning off a few reed beds while sitting on the digger clearing silt from a ditch. Following dry weather and a few frosts to draw the moisture from the ground, the reed bed burning had been going decidedly well, on this occasion things picked up further, half an acre of spearbed disappeared in a matter of moments, the wall of flame leapt the ditch I was clearing and, in a flash, a forty foot Christmas tree behind my head was full of flames. Ditch work was abandoned and a hasty retreat made through what remains of the Christmas tree plantation. It always looks a bit stark after reed beds have been burned, and it isn’t the best place to walk a liver and white spaniel with wobbly legs especially when your wife has cleaned the kitchen floor, but within weeks, verdant growth appears from charred ground thicker than ever, providing a haven for all manner of flora and fauna.

The Brown Trout Fry in the Hatchery are now up on the fin and feeding well. Currently in an oversized tank I hand feed sporadically and keep out of their way as much as I can.

The wood alongside the river is full of Pheasants, I came across nine hens scratching around one afternoon with a senior cock looking on, their plumage is as good as it gets at the moment, and boy don’t they know it, even our chickens swoon! Ducks are paired up, the group of Swans in the water meadow above have dissipated and the Hares in the field behind our house are bumbling about doing daft things in the middle of the day. Buds are swelling on the trees and there is a hint of blossom on the cherry tree that always goes too early. We could be on the cusp of spring, but then again it could snow. It would be great if we had weeks of cold rain before the trees wake up, but I fear that this is all the water we have for the coming season, and it ain’t very much!

Erotic frogs and an ultrasonic bridge

2011-03-03T21:07:00.006Z

Erotic Frogs and an ultrasonic bridge

Last week we had cause to drive up the Bourne Valley in the name of under sixteen football. The bourne at St Marybourne is barely a trickle. Before the ban, we used to attend several Alresford Coursing Club meetings on ground just north of St Marybourne always in late February or early March around the time of the Waterloo Cup. The Bourne would always be rattling along under the bridge in St Marybourne and on one occasion it had broken its banks and sandbags were in use around the doors of several houses. I don’t want to labour the point but we need a few wet weeks if the river is to sustain a decent level throughout the season.

The particular coursing meeting in question was held over two days and was quite a grown up affair with one big stake offering a decent amount of prize money and drawing entries from far and wide. There would always be a party over from Ireland, a Cornish contingent, plenty from East Anglia. The North was well represented with Yorkies, Scots and several from the North West, a large Pakistani contingent would turn up from the midlands, plus a few over from Europe. The mix included Racehorse trainers, game keepers, bookmakers, chefs, landed gentry, a lifeboat coxswain, a fireman, celebrities of varied standing and many many more. A Rolls Royce would stand next to the most beat up dog van in a muddy corner of a field. It wouldn’t be my first choice of field sport and more often than not I was performing some role on the day, either beating, flanker, taking dogs in and out of slips or catching them up after they’d run. But those who chose to be there showed incredible dedication to their sport. It doesn’t happen now, and I would challenge anyone to come up with a field sport that attracts such a wide mix of people. Horse racing must come close, but for several years after the ban the club’s annual barbecue and duck race would be held here in midsummer with the same bunch travelling miles to talk over the past season and bet on plastic ducks floating down the river, Mr Younis in his Shalwar Kameez, beard dyed red, with the coxswain of the Cromer lifeboat taking in the yellow plastic ducks on a bench by the river, you couldn’t make it up!

Each afternoon our pond in the garden plays host to a raucous frog orgy. As each gravid female flops into the pond she is immediately pounced upon by half a dozen randy males. One confused hopper (who will obviously try anything once) had a four-ounce Goldfish in his clasp for much of yesterday afternoon.
The Pike are grouping up, my son and his mate had three out of one hole while fishing at half term. They were helping me out up the river, clearing up a load of wood that I cleared before I had my hernias dealt with, not sure how the Pike rod got to be there.
A few Cormorants have looked in this week, although nothing like the numbers of previous winters, they seem to be sticking to the main river at the moment. The local put and take trout fishery reports having seen none on their water all winter.

Sixteen years ago the road bridge in this village was taken apart and two electro magnetic coils inserted in a concrete base in the riverbed, the bridge was then reconstructed over the top. The river was diverted and the road closed for four months. The electro magnetic coils would provide flow data for the River Dever every thirty seconds that would be transmitted back to a desk somewhere in the south of England. The cost to the taxpayer was around one and a half million pounds (at 1995 prices). This week while on a restorative potter with the dogs I came across two technical types tinkering with the bridge. They informed me that the electro magnetic coils in the riverbed are now obsolete. Flow data would now be measured by ultrasound via this silver box they were attaching to the bridge, but the really great advantage was that flow data would now be measured constantly as opposed to every thirty seconds.

I scratched my head for much of a very long walk.

Why do we need flow data every thirty seconds? Why do we need flow data for every second of the day? A man in a van measures all of the water quality parameters manually, at regular intervals. Why does flow data need to be monitored so closely? There is no danger of flash flooding on this river. Why did they put it under that bridge anyway? A hatch at the mill a hundred yards upstream (that has been in existence for hundreds of years) will compromise data every time it is opened?

A man could have measured the flow data manually every day for sixteen years and been paid a wage that attracted the highest rate of income tax, and still come in at half the cost of these coils in the river bed.

Was the close monitoring of flow data a national strategy implemented by flood defence following serious flooding in other parts of the country twenty years ago? Was the decree issued that all rivers should be monitored for flash flooding, even the chalkstreams that don't flash flood. An action group was formed, media campaign arranged, all who lived near rivers would be saved by people in cutting edge wet weather gear and shiny wellingtons who would issue flood warnings through their giant copper coils. And the bill? Oh don't worry about it, now what's next a national monorail scheme or roads in the sky, I know lets do both!

If the flow is monitored every thirty seconds or every second of the day for flood defence reasons then it is completely unneccessary on this river and a lot of money has been wasted. If it is for another reason, I would love to know, because I can't for the life of me think what it is.

Wild Geese I & II and other ducks also

2011-02-20T21:30:00.001Z

It has rained and the river has risen, nowhere near enough, but good steady stuff that has got springs moving, the tin is in and silt is being shifted. The fish in the river look to be in pretty fine fettle and feed sporadically on midday flurries of flies. Crack willow will be conquered and victory will be mine, although the battle is on hold for a few weeks, after a two-pronged attack by a couple of hernias. The girl and boy in charge of the whole operation seemed a bit giggly and didn’t look old enough to be playing with knives, but it seems to have been a success and I must thank the whole Kit and Kaboodle at Winchester Hospital who successfully put my loins back in line. Hors de combat for a couple of weeks, the willow will inevitably gain ground, but I shall return stronger and more determined to defeat the devil’s own tree.

The old saw, underpowered and over worked, gave up the ghost a week ago, so a new one has been purchased, and what a difference it has made. I could clear fell the Isle of Wight in a week with the new Swedish number, Crack Willow will ultimately bow to the shock and awe of my new saw…… when the doctor allows me to pick it up.

An area I have cleared on the top shallows demonstrates the effect shade from low growing crack willow can have on a river. Where light is inhibited the fringe thins, the bank is open to erosion, the river is subsequently over widened, slows down and silt is deposited, weed and all that depend on her die and the river takes a turn for the worse. If all who reside in them are to flourish, the chalk stream environs must be managed as they have been for hundreds of years, and don’t let any body in a fine fleece and cutting edge walking shoes tell you otherwise.

The Geese turned up, several months later than usual but in far greater numbers. Over a hundred honkers of various hues currently graze the top water meadow. What Ducks that are about are paired up and engaged in the preliminaries of courtship. There are plenty of Pheasants about. Through December and January we shot our fair share, but plenty still reside in the wood. Many can be heard “cocking up” in the wood as night falls, and Otis put twenty out of a bunch of brambles no bigger than a small family car earlier in the week.

Photos of boxing Hares have appeared in the papers this week but I have yet to see any in the field behind our house. In previous years this venue has hosted more boxing bouts than Earls Court and Wembley Arena combined, which suggests we have some more winter to come yet.

Hosepipe Ban?

2011-02-10T20:54:00.001Z

Whisper it quietly, we need several months of rain if we are to have respectable flows this summer. It could happen, the past two days here have been wet with much of the steady rainfall getting down into the ground although springs are not flowing very high up the ditches and there is no chance of the river coming over the banks. The Ranunculus that sprung into life during the cold clear snap has steadied up a bit, but is still more luxuriant than some years in May. We have had some hatches of fly, mostly mid day stuff that both fish and Wagtails have made the most off. One of our regulars popped over for some Grayling fishing and despite much success in previous years struggled throughout the day. This winter it seems that the Grayling fishing has been either on or off, with no steady stuff in between. If the fish are feeding, then most are on the go, and some big bags can be had, but it doesn’t seem to take much to put them off, and when one head goes down they all go down. There are a few Pike about although it seems a bit earlier for them to be ganging up and heading for the sexy spring holes to spawn.

The fish in the hatchery are now in the main tank, a little earlier than normal as some were starting to show signs of Gas Bubble disease; bubbles of Nitrogen in the blood brought on by spring water that is not completely saturated with Oxygen. If we get it, we call it “The Bends” bashing the water about soon solves the problem, the lower stocking density in a larger tank also keeps the fish in tip top condition and a more natural environment.

I am still engaged in the interminable struggle with Crack willow. Kill rates are down this week following a saw malfunction. A little knick in my chainsaw trousers that would have put stitches in my thigh, left me looking skywards thanking the patron saint of safety textiles. The idea is that the chain pulls at the fibres in the thick safety trousers, until enough come out to jam the chain, no Steel, Kevlar or carbon fibre fittings, just fine fibres rushing the chain en masse to halt its progress, thankfully it works like a dream.

The Merlin returned this week, for the umpteenth consecutive year, we chased it up the road on the way to football practice before it swerved off at high speed through the hedge. Bittern are back in the valley although I have not seen or heard it yet, and the Harrier (Marsh or ring tail Hen?) still flops around the Common. This week we have had the Electricians in, bringing our fuse board up to the ultra safe state currently required. He came before Christmas to assess the likelihood of electrical death, unfortunately my wife was on a different path to the afterworld with a dose of Pig Flu and he had to work around her bed ridden form. This week we forgot he was coming and it was my daughter who was stuck in bed, home on a half day from college who was woken by an electrician in her room. A nice man, who hails from up near Inkpen, I asked him about the Red Kites that were released up there a decade ago, mentioning that we regularly saw one or two around here. One day this summer he counted twelve in the air over his house, a shooting man living in some fantastic shooting ground, he suggested that it wouldn’t be too long before some in the area took the matter in hand.

A similar view was expressed by a visitor from a neighbouring Wild Life Trust, a reasonably sensible bunch much removed from The “ Disneyfied Groovy Gang” of this parish. While drinking tea in our kitchen following a cold day Grayling Fishing, the soon to be retired WT man commented on what he had seen throughout the day, a couple of friends who live and work further down the river turned up to duff up some Ducks and fishing conversation kicked off. Cormorants were soon on the agenda, along with Otters, Canoeists and much else that chugs up and down the river valley. Frequently the discussion turned to a balance that must be struck, the man with Twelve Kites over his house suggested the same.

Species diversity has undoubtedly widened over the past decade and it is something of which we should be justifiably proud, but a balance must be maintained if all are to thrive. As Head honcho/ top predator we must face up to that responsibility and recognise what is required to maintain a balanced environment.
The derelict farm buildings up the road that provided shelter for a lonely Barn Owl for some years were recently converted, and an Owl box put up to provide the ghostly bird with an alternative abode. The Owl now prefers the Oaks and Ash alongside the road while the new tenants Cat spends his days in the Owl box,

Ahah!

2011-01-21T21:00:00.004Z

We have had several inches of rain, the river coloured up very quickly, indicating that much of what fell ran off; the springs could do with days of steady rain to get a good recharge, rather than heavy intense showers. The Brown Trout are a little more active and starting to regain some of the weight lost during spawning. Several were picked up by Grayling anglers this week and they looked to be in good condition. The Grayling however proved to be fairly elusive; four down from the wide-open spaces of Grafham had slow sport although they finished with fifteen fish on a bitterly cold day. Few fly are hatching and all fish caught have been taken sub surface, several Grayling of between pound and a half and two pounds have been decidedly chubby, not spawn but full bellies and in tip top condition.

We had a go at Duffing up Ducks. During the Christmas period a lot of food was going and as well as the usual Mallard and gadwall there were numbers of Wigeon and Teal. Conditions were perfect but very few Ducks came into the pond we fired twenty to thirty shots, we heard thirty odd on a pond a mile down stream and a handful of shots three miles upstream on the main river. Where they have all gone is anyone’s guess. The record-breaking temperatures of past months may have pushed some to warmer coastal climes, or there may not be the numbers flighting the river that there used to be, if any ducks are reading this, there is a chuffin great pile of Barley in the shallows of our pond waiting to be eaten, help yourself.

The interminable struggle with Crack Willow continues, with several more put to the sword. I also had a day killing Ivy (no relation) the waxy leaved parasite that strangles so many of the trees around here. A couple of senior Oaks that I did five years ago are now almost full to the crown, it may not kill a tree but it provides a bigger surface area in windy conditions, if any tree around here blows over in a wind, more often than not it is covered in ivy. Its advance is relentless and some parts of the wood are worse than others. In an alliance formed with Crack Willow, the world would be conquered and we would be governed by plant life…… and not for the first time.

As an entertaining interlude for the week, we played host to John Wilson, he of the television fishing programmes and much published fishing books. I grew up with Wilson’s articles in the angling press on trotting for Roach on Norfolk’s rivers, my son and his fishing mate have seen most of his fishing programmes, my mate saw him grumbling at the NEC when he’d had his best rod and reel pinched from the stand, his TV persona conveys a character who just enjoys his fishing. He spent all day trotting for Roach and Grayling, caught a few trout on the way, stayed for a cup of tea, and returned my sixteen year old son to the bashful days of primary school.
A few fishing pundits who turn up here no longer enjoy their fishing; it’s become a means to an end with an underlying jaded air. Wilson appears to be still in love with all things rod and reel. Him and his mate turned up at dawn and left at dusk, having caught Roach and Grayling to a pound and a half.

He knows his fishing and seems to genuinely enjoy it…top trotter and a decent bloke.

Muntjac make good pie

2011-01-13T20:58:00.002Z

Muntjac make good pie

The weather warmed up this week, the birds sang a little louder, a few fly hatched off the river and the postman put his shorts back on. We have had several inches of rain and the river is starting to look a little fuller, although the spring ditches are not yet flowing very strong. Bizarrely the Ranunculus on the top shallows has flourished over the past month and despite being cut out in October is now waving in the faster current. A vitally important weed, we don’t yet fully understand the cycles of its growth, the only explanation that I can throw up is that the water has been crystal clear throughout the snowy period and the light intensity may have stimulated some growth despite the river being bloody freezing.
Much of the past few days has been spent engaged in the never ending struggle with Crack willow, it grows up, it falls over it takes root and grows up again, slowly creeping towards the river. Parts of some of the bends have become starved of light, inhibiting weed and marginal growth and it is these that I am tacking first, their removal has the added bonus of making some of the bends easier to fish!

We had another bumble around on a shoot day. Still no Geese, but plenty of Widgeon and more and more Snipe, Otis sprang over twenty from a puddle no more than six feet square on the top water meadow. The top drive was the best it has been all year, with plenty of Partridge and Pheasant coming out in ones and twos, it was raining for much of the morning and I thought it would be blank. The Iron Age defence ditch that has proved to be our best drive for some years has been ruined by the work carried out in the name of English Heritage. Cold, bare and bleak, where it was once full of bottom, bushes and shelter, it offers little to the wildlife of the Parish other than the Badgers who dig away at it with gay abandon. We put up a fox close to the house, and blazed away at quite a few pigeon. A few Muntjac scurried through, these funny little deer have now gone to the top of my favourite Venison list. We have had haunches and saddles cooked in a variety of ways these past few months and we have not been let down yet. Braised slowly the meat tastes like steak and kidney, a haunch roasted with rosemary, like strong lamb. It won’t be long before Nigella or Marco are singing its praises, because there are plenty of them skipping about the Home Counties.
The Bittern are back, I have not seen one yet but there have been several reports of their sighting. So far we have seen fewer Cormorants than last year although the Otters have taken their place as “destroyer in chief” of the local fish population. I have now got radios on each of the stew ponds. Radio 2 is keeping them away at the moment with Richard Madeley’s two-week stint standing in for Chris Evans on the Breakfast show proving to be particularly effective. Further down the river some video monitoring is taking place to provide evidence of what the cheeky little critters are up to. It may help in demonstrating the problem to a public who see all things cuddly as something that must be protected, although it is interesting to note that the fine fleece and sandals brigade have little to say on the matter. “Let those who have commercial interests in fishing shout about the problem lest it harm our image in the media” seems to be their take on Otters, although what these cute creatures will eat when stocking is restricted or no longer permissible is a no brainer.

It's Triplets!!

2011-01-06T20:19:00.001Z

Christmas came and went, the temperature dipped to minus thirteen and ice formed in the margins of the river. The local put and take big fish water was frozen over for two weeks or more and snow lay on the ground until the day after Boxing Day when the temperature rose and turned the parish to mush and slush, and caused a brief flurry of flies to hatch around midday. A few of the Brown Trout in the river are looking a little lean and could do with starting to think about feeding again. The Brown Trout eggs in the hatching trough are now hatching, a little later than last year, but they seem to be a reasonably decent batch.
Father Christmas brought me a new float rod for Christmas after my old one was broken in a mysterious footballing incident in the garden. My first foray with a stick float, trotting a piece of pinched bread, produced one of last year’s stockies that was particularly lanky, a three quarter pound Grayling and half a dozen immaculate Roach to just under a pound. The river is low and clear, a bit more colour and water would now doubt produce a bigger bag.

More and more Wigeon have moved into the valley over the past few weeks, along with quite a few Teal, and a very funny duck that must be some kind of Hybrid, the Snipe are still about, but unusually the Geese have not moved onto the top water meadow. There seem to be plenty of Pheasants about, although our remaining two shooting days may prove otherwise.

The cold weather has ensured that all the flora and fauna are aware that it is Christmas time, Snow drops have only just started to show above ground, and the daffodil bulbs that my dopey spaniel dug up in the garden, seem to have a long way to go before they will be bursting into bloom. Most things seem to be in their winter dormancy apart from the Moles, that somehow manage to throw up fresh hills of earth through six inches of frozen ground.

On New Year’s Eve, our two children are now of an age where they would prefer to go off to roister and raise hell elsewhere than spend an evening in with parents and friends, this left the two of us on the evening of the thirty first. Fine wine, fireworks, food and conversation were done by ten thirty so we went to bed, rising early on the first day of 2011 to take the dogs down onto the Common.
There was a fox with a rabbit in its mouth, Roe deer and Muntjac scuttling away, a cacophony of quacks signalled the departure of several varieties of Duck and we almost trod on three short eared Owls, who were decidedly reluctant to leave the area and flew their floppy flight around our heads before settling in a nearby ash tree.
Chuck it all together in an Old Chinese proverb and they would no doubt prove to be incredibly significant events that would culminate in my wife or I bearing triplets with small ears some time in September, alternatively it could just be that we were the first down on to the Common that morning and nothing had yet been disturbed, If sickness and stomach cramps strike I will let you know.

Even more snow

2010-12-28T18:59:00.000Z

It snowed again, six inches deep around here, other parts of the country had considerably more. It hung around for ten days or more, our second shoot was conducted in falling snow and a few days ago the dawn temperature was minus thirteen degrees. Ice has formed on the margins of the slower parts of the river and millstream and the fish have switched right off as their metabolism slows with the low water temperature.

Most of the Pheasants stayed down in the warmer meadow eschewing the draughty block of Maize on top of the hill, A few Partridge pitched off the top, but most of what was around lay in the valley bottom. A few Woodcock and Snipe got up, some funny ducks that looked like Widgeon got up in the distance and several Muntjac ran to and fro as we bumbled our way through the wood. We shot a few and missed a few, which was understandable in the conditions, and were glad to get back indoors following a bitterly cold morning. Otis did OK, picked up a couple of tricky pricked birds and quartered and flushed his way through most of the morning. Now he has worked out what his nose is for it would be great to get him out on some Ducks in the Dark, but there are still very few duck coming onto the pond let alone flying up and down the valley. With the woodburner on the go twenty four hours a day, we are getting through logs at an alarming rate, the senior ash tree that did for the bridge six weeks ago has now nearly all gone, along with another that came down near the millstream.

The Brown Trout eggs are now all eyed up and will soon be hatching, this years batch have been particularly good, especially when compared to last year’s batch when I used a couple of duff cockfish. In the river there are no fish on the gravels any more, most have retired to the deeper water to get over the rigours of spawning. The low water temperature may mean that they are slow to regain condition. The Grayling are in superb condition, the water remains relatively clear for the time of year and they are by far and away the most active of the fish in the river bar the Pike who sit motionless until hunger takes hold and a hundred mile an hour ambush secures them a meal. With a bit of colour in the water we could have some good pike fishing in the early months of next year.

Snow and stuff

2010-12-05T19:33:00.003Z

Freezing temperatures didn’t deter a couple of Grayling fishermen last week who struggled on their first day in low clear water and biting wind but caught fish on the second when the Grayling decided to join in. There are a few big fish around at the moment, and on the odd occasion this week they have fed on the surface mid afternoon to the odd Olive that has broke cover.
Snow midweek covered everything up and made the place look neat and tidy, night time temperatures fell to around minus six, which is positively tropical compared to the minus twenty in Scotland. The snow also revealed that the Otters are back and filling their boots in the stew ponds, the electric fence became buried in the overnight snow and the Otters were quick to take the opportunity of an easy meal, they are becoming increasingly bold in their activities and are not the creature of twenty years ago that would shy away from the slightest hint of human activity. On one of our fishing trips to France we saw several soporific and decidedly rotund Otters that seemed to have taken up residence on a coarse fish farm. The owners had become exasperated at their ineffective efforts to keep the creatures out of the ponds, and were fast approaching the last resort of reaching for the recipe book.
The shallows are bright with the clean gravel of freshly cut redds, more than I have seen for some seasons, the Leviathan that inhabits the middle bends put in her annual appearance, close to double figures she has been around for at least the last four seasons. Rarely seen during the season, she crashed at a Fisherman’s fly during the hot weather of summer, and in January she swam into my legs while I was moving some tin, but most of the time she tucks herself away in the deeper water.
The Merlin hasn’t turned up yet, although a few funny things are cropping up around the place. A Marsh Harrier was flopping around when my wife and I took the dogs down to the Common last Sunday.
The sledging field behind our house, which also doubles as quite a senior Pheasant drive, was once again the centre of attention with the local youth flinging themselves downhill on plastic sheets, upturned roof boxes and the odd orthodox sledge. Many stuck to the same run for the first hour or two, before moving ten yards across the slope for some virgin snow, the first run down put up two hares who had sat tight within yards of the screaming and crashing for over an hour. During the days of open Coarsing I was constantly amazed at a Hare’s ability to conceal itself in an open patch of earth and avoid detection, as the beating line stepped over it in open country.

On a bitterly cold day, we had our first shoot. The Field magazine with photographer and assistant turned up to take some pictures for their February front cover. A photogenic beating line containing the usual suspects worked the camera and put up a considerable amount of birds, although Duck were conspicuous by the their absence during the opening skirmishes down the spring ditches of the water meadow. Pheasants flew well, although the drive with the new and improved Iron age defence ditch sans trees and cover, proved a little tricky. We also saw quite a few Muntjac, two or three Woodcock and some nice Partridge. Otis performed surprisingly well, with one tricky pick up of a pricked Partridge on the other side of the river, he did however run out of beans towards the end of the day and must learn to pace himself, In Len’s words I’d give him Sevuuurrnn!

Got a bit of a bashing on the letters page of Trout and Salmon magazine this month. I questioned an entertaining article about fishing the River Rother at Petersfield that claimed the fish caught were genuine wild Brown Trout. I wrote to the magazine asking how the fishery conservation expert who advised the author could be so sure that they were wild fish, particularly as I had stocked the stretch below with mixed sex Brown Trout for several years. Fishery Conservation expert replied in emotive terms invoking the spirit of grand children with a “concrete” case that included the use of the words “probably” and “we can assume” I have replied in person and do not wish to enter into a messy exchange of letters in the angling press.

Unfortunately we probably can’t assume, because the argument over stocking has become muddied by the extremes of view held by the wild fish brigade and the corporate and commercial boys, a sensible solution lies somewhere in between.

Duff cocks, and a third interesting lump in my undercrackers

2010-11-18T10:12:00.000Z

Duff cocks, and a third interesting lump in my undercrackers.

We have had some very wet weather with flooding in other parts of the country, around here, it has been fairly steady with minimum run off and most of it getting into the ground, to back up this theory, the river is not carrying much colour although we do have enough water to get the Mill stream running again. The Brown Trout are spawning hard, including one enormous hen on the middle bends, and there are many redds cut in the clean gravel. Herons are making a nuisance of themselves along with a brace of Little Egret who seem to be inseparable. The eggs in the hatchery are a week old now and look to be ok, I have picked very few dead eggs out this year, unlike last year’s batch when I think I must have used a duff cockfish during fertilisation.
We have had few Grayling Fishermen along this year, despite there being a good stock in the river. Now that the weed has been cut out several of the shoals of Roach have joined together to form one super shoal and will provide good sport to a single maggot presented under a trotted stick float. There are also a couple of Chub, or Chublets of around a pound plus the Perch on the bottom bends.
With the heavy rain the Pheasants have opted to spend much of the day in the wood, visiting the strips of Maize between the showers, which has meant I have been getting through a bit more corn. This year we are paying £160 a tonne for wheat, which is the highest, we have ever had to pay. As is the way of the enigmatic Wild Duck some days they are with us some days they are not, some nights the Barley on the pond is all eaten up, some nights there is a lot left over. I suspect that they are being fed very hard higher up the valley and shot at regularly, moving out to other ponds when their favourite feeding spot with its mountain of Barley has become to risky only to return when the memory of flying lead/bismuth has passed.
The Ash Tree that demolished the bridge has now partly been cut up; the replacement bridge will be over engineered in the grand manner of the Victorians, with big plates of metal and lots or rivets, or possibly a less elaborate wooden one sited away from any big trees. The Amber tree still clings on to its burgundy leaves, as do the Oaks.

Away from the river, a third interesting lump in my underpants proved to be a hernia, that is to be dealt with in the new year, along with a second hernia that I was unaware off, and somehow I managed to finish runner up in Hampshire FA’s Groundsman of the year 2010 competition, and I didn’t know we were even entered.

“This Groundsman demonstrated considerable innovation in his refusal to use parallel or perpendicular lines, each line painted maintained its own unique identity and direction; occasionally straight, often curved his current work breaks new ground in football pitch design, his penalty spots in particular, are a triumph!”

An FA spokesman said

The final inspection by FA pitch gurus and mandarins occurred two days after the village firework display. Seven hundred people jumping up and down on the turf was explained as pushing the barriers of organic rolling, and the burnt patch in the corner where the bonfire had been as, efforts to change soil structure in a boggy patch through the medium of fire.
Luckily they had visited in the summer, incognito with muffled oars, when we had some grass.

Rain at last

2010-11-09T21:02:00.002Z

Went away at half term with the usual bunch, fishing for a week in the Loire Valley, mostly on the Cher near Chabris; a big derelict mill pool with the main hatch missing, twenty feet deep and holding all species of fish. We fished the pool a few years ago with some success and had the place to ourselves for a week, catching hundreds of pounds of Chub and Barbel, plus several torpedo shaped Common Carp to eighteen pounds. This year the river was three feet down on when we last visited and crystal clear. Fishing was tricky and the Common Carp that we had hoped to target proved elusive. Many fish congregated in the deeper holes, intent more on survival than having an autumnal feed. During a visit to the nearby Chateau at Chenonceau which is built over the river, we opened a window in the long room, to look for fish and immediately below were a dozen Carp between twenty and forty pounds. A "family event" where rods,tackle and all talk of fishing were banned, we reluctantly closed the window and attempted to banish thoughts of the leviathans that lurked beneath our feet.
Towards the end of the week we switched our attentions to a local lake. Constructed to provide irrigation for the surrounding fields and replenished solely by rain it was a third of it’s usual size, the mud flats revealed a huge population of Swan Mussels and in two relaxed fishing sessions we banked several Carp to twenty pounds.

Back home we have had some steady rain that has helped put a few more inches of water over the shallows where the Trout are starting to kick up their redds, there are a lot of fish left in the river and in shallow water provide an easy target for the Heron and Egret that are currently hanging around the valley. Fungal infections such as Saprolegnia can be a problem at this time of the year, but touch wood so far the fish in the river appear to be fairly clean. The Rainbows in the stew ponds destined for our local Big Fish water. Suffered a little from an infection of Costia brought on by the low flows of summer, but are now recovering after several doses of salt.
I have finished cutting the weed and all the fringe is knocked off. I still have to see to the Millstream, which has lain still for much of the year through lack of water. Next week we will drain it down and drive a tractor up the middle to cut the hedge that shield it from the road.
The hatchery trough is up and running and contains a couple of basket of mixed sex brown trout eggs. The fish seem to be a week behind on the spawning time of last year.
Ducks have found the pond and the heap of barley and we are all set to go with our first evening flighting ducks. The Pheasants continue to spend much of their day in the two strips of Maize and are in position for our first day in a few weeks time. This week the wind has blown and the sky opened up to dump several inches of much needed rain. Nice and steady with not too much run off, it has rained for much of the week. The weather map displays lows lining up across the Atlantic sweeping in to bring more, miserable weather for some, but just what the doctor ordered for this valley, if only the wind hadn’t blown so hard as to toppled an immense ash onto the bridge that I built last Easter, smashing it to a thousand pieces.

It come in, It goes out

2010-10-06T21:01:00.000+01:00

We’ve had a bit of rain, and a lot of it has gone into the ground, not much is taking a drink at the moment and rain today should help the springs push a bit more water over the shallows at spawning time. We seem to have quite a few Herons up and down the valley at the moment that would cause carnage at spawning time if the river were too low. An egret has also turned up, a little earlier than usual.
We are into the final week of the season, and the fishing has picked up with fish rising to small Olives and Spurwings throughout the middle of the day, presentation is key, a clumsy cast spooking many fish. The Grayling are also in prime condition and are also feeding on the surface; there are also some large shoals of fingerling Grayling. As has happened on a few previous occasions the biggest fish of the season was taken in the final month, one of our regulars landed a five and a half pound cockfish that had been on the bottom bends for at least two seasons. It was not sporting spawning duds and was tempted to take a lightly fished Klinkhammer.

The Pheasants are in a routine of breakfasting in the wood, before taking coffee and lunch in the Maize, returning to the wood for tea. They are not wandering as much as previous seasons, due in no small part to the excellent strip of Maize. It must be some of the best in the area, which is just as well, as the Iron Age defence ditch that used to provide shelter for much of the parish’s wildlife is now a barren bank. Trees gone under decree by English Heritage and vegetation sprayed off so all can see the Iron Age bank that the Badgers have dug up.

We seem to have been invaded by Muntjac, two years ago we saw two or three on each shooting day, last year we didn’t see any. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see quite a few on our first beat through the bushes in December. A friend, who turned up to fish earlier in the year, gave me several chunks of Muntjac; we had the saddle a few weekends ago and it was fantastic.

Our small fish rearing operation is on the fish farm register, when the two main on-growing ponds were dug, hoops of Olympic proportions had to be jumped through before we were granted permission to go ahead. The Local Council, English Nature, English Heritage, Various departments of the environment agency, the man digging the ponds, all had input into the digging of what seventy years ago the Luftwaffe could have created with a push of a button. To use water from a river to grow a few hundred fish, you must first apply and pay to take the water from the river, you must then apply and pay to put it back; the former is called a “licence to abstract”, the latter a “consent to discharge”; both are dealt with by different departments of the environment agency. Unbeknown to us our licence to abstract had a ten-year shelf life, the consent to discharge doesn’t. This week an amiable cove. soon to leave the agency (unfortunately) arrived to inform us that our abstraction licence had lapsed two years ago we had been taking a quarter of a million gallons a day through a fixed pipe into our ponds, an oversight on someone’s part (the finger was pointed at me) but could we reapply, Oh and can we have another cheque for the application process. At no point during the two year period did the legions of office wallahs at the agency pick up on the fact that we were paying to put water back into the river but not paying to take it out. Where did they think we were getting a quarter of a million gallons a day of water? , I know the bottled water industry has taken off in recent years but we would require a cast of thousands, buying bottles and emptying Evian and Eau into the brook on a daily basis to get up to a quarter of a million gallons a day.

Media studies

2010-09-24T20:38:00.002+01:00

This past week fishing has improved, despite the low clear water both trout and Grayling have been feeding hard in the middle of the day on a steady trickle of small Olives and Spurwings, proper September fishing. Swans have ripped a bar of ranunculus from the shallows in front of the fishing hut that has taken water from the Rainbows in the stew ponds, in order to push water through the ponds I have had to whack in a telegraph pole to act as a temporary weir to raise the river immediately upstream by a few inches. The Rainbows have also been flashing on the bottom of the ponds, an indicator of parasite infection, it has been necessary to dip the whole lot in a salt bath this week, this and the extra water should get them back to mid season form.
The Pheasants have found the Maize, which should cut down on the amount of “dogging in” Otis and I have to do of a morning. On our drive down to Cornwall a few weeks ago, much of the Maize seemed a foot or two shorter than ours, I am not sure why, perhaps it was drilled at a different time or we have a particularly tall variety, whatever the reason, ours look rather good!
We also took delivery of another half dozen chickens, the same strain as last year that had never knowingly underlaid , they are 70 weeks old, arrived with an egg on the way, and spared a slow death by shortcrust pastry. They’ve led a “free range” life but still have feather free bums. One moult and they will be back to full feathers.

On a different note, Wogan used to question the wisdom of educating so many media study students, where would they all gain employment? This week it became apparent where some are now earning their crust. A superbly filmed program about a population of tigers living at an altitude in the Himalaya never previously thought possible, was ruined by a couple of clowns who contributed little to the piece other than hyperbole and theatrical frightened looks. With little knowledge of the subject, they were the “X factor” that spoiled a fascinating programme. One attempted to convince us that he had been in mortal danger in the night, as Leopard prints had been found near his camp, another waited for Tommy Tiger in a pop up hide clearly visible from space. One waited up at night with oodles of equipment and was convinced that the eyes on which he was shining his polished piece of krypton, belonged to a Leopard heading his way, it turned out to be a sleepy squirrel in the tree just in front of his hide.

Goodness knows what the locals made of it. A theatrical bunch, on their nerve’s end following their dawn discovery of Leopard prints near their camp, set off up the mountain attired in real tree camouflage and packing all manner of survival equipment, their local guide led the way in flip flops with a John Deere umbrella on his arm; he probably sees tigers and leopards every week. The overpaid chumps added little but irritation; all that was required was an informed narrative to add to the superb photography and a few well-worded questions to the man in the flip-flops.

Ignorance and mistrust of local knowledge, with media folk to the fore, prevails a lot closer to home.

Where did all the water go?

2010-09-14T21:28:00.001+01:00

Where did all the water go? No weed to cut in august, a proliferation of blanket weed and the river is now down to its bare bones. Fly life through August was reasonable with better sedge fishing than this time last year and Olives trickled off from late morning on the fine days. The rain we have had has done nothing but add colour for 24 hours, with fish rising between the showers. Now the river is crystal clear and with three weeks of the season left, several fish are more intent on making territorial charges than looking up for flies. There are many fish left in the river most have now moved into the deeper holes. On some parts of the river there is a thin line of mud between the water and the marginal fringe, a small beach that will be even greater when we cut the weed out in October. The Stew ponds are also short of water and it may soon be necessary to put a few sheets of tin into the river below the inlet to try and push a bit more water through.

The Pheasants are now out of the pen and all over the meadow, some are showing signs of adult plumage. I have feeders out through the wood, but the fatter they get on natural food and maize from the game cover the better as the price of Wheat has shot through the roof and currently stands at £150 per ton. Following the close of the cricket season and the start of school we had a week in Cornwall. A non-fishing holiday, at the end of a hectic summer, to a place we used to visit regularly, but had not been to for nine years. We also used to buy our day old pheasants from a chap who lives in a castle on a beach, we visited the beach several times during the week and the roads leading in were covered in tiny Cornish pheasants, half the size of a Hampshire bird they make a challenging target pushed of the top of some of the hills and cliffs that surround the beach. They did well here in Hampshire and flew beautifully, but had a tendency to walk a little further than their rotund Hampshire brethren sometimes over the hill and far away, and if it wasn’t your hill then they did not feature or your shooting day. In a week in Cornwall hanging around harbours, bumming on beaches and walking the cliffs I saw fewer Cormorants than I would on a mid winters walk on the middle Test.

Unfortunately during the past month, the best dog that we have ever had cashed in his chips. Zebo, our twelve year old Black Labrador developed a load of lumps where lumps shouldn’t be, that finished him off in a matter of weeks. Born into a well-bred litter of eight, he and his brother Jacko who lives nearby, were the two left that nobody chose. He cost a day’s fishing for two, and after initial efforts at training, it became abundantly clear that “it was all in there” and he knew far more about shooting than anyone else around here. He had impeccable manners with both humans and fellow dogs and did not have one fight in twelve years. On driven pheasant days he would quarter and flush as well as a Spaniel and then switch to picking up mode when the drive was done. On evening duck flights he came into his own, He abandoned all hope of me hitting anything at an early stage and would mark most ducks that fellow guns shot. These would then have to be located and picked up in the dark at the end of the flight, some on the water others in cover; on several occasions he picked the whole bag. He had two failings, the first a propensity to sit in front of us of an evening chattering his teeth if a neighbouring bitch was in season, and in his later years, after taking a long drink he would blot his gums on my wife’s thighs, best linen trousers or not! He had a week of Steak, Sausage, Chicken Breasts and Nan bread before it all got too much, and he now resides by the river at the end of a bridge where he would wait patiently for me to finish feeding Fish and Pheasants.
Big shoes to fill for his nephew Otis, Immature and great fun, he displays fleeting signs of high intelligence that are quickly extinguished by the slightest opportunity to arse about!

Sorry!

2010-09-10T21:31:00.001+01:00

Been a bit busy, teenagers and all that,

normal service will resume next week

Week 104

2010-07-30T19:58:00.000+01:00

Week 104

The river is fast losing any sparkle that remains; the water has dropped markedly and is not far off the level it was at this time last year. Weed growth has steadied up, although the ribbon weed is sticking its nose through the surface of the water. Fishing is hard; rods are now resorting to nymphs to take fish during the day, with some brief sedge fishing in the evening. Many of the Brown Trout have tucked themselves away and not putting in an appearance for most of the day. It is amazing how so many fish can hide away in a small river with gin clear water, the clarity and size of the river draw you into thinking that most fish must be visible, but Brown Trout are particularly adept at tucking themselves away when they need to, which is why many beats started stocking Rainbows at this time of the year, a practice that many now undertake throughout the season. There is one female Brown Trout on the middle stretch this beat of around 8lb that I have only twice this year, and felt once when she crashed into my legs during the weed cut.

The flight pond is alive with Roach and Rudd fry that provide a daily feast for a family of Kingfishers, distracting them from my pond of Brown Trout fry further down the river. They are on and around the pond most of the day, taking advantage of the low clear water, there are a dozen or more Bream of between four and six pound who occasionally get their heads down and colour the water, affording the fry a little protection, but they too have taken to spending much of the day basking near the surface in the warm water.

The winter barley in the hundred acre field that borders one side of this stretch of the valley was harvested recently, and within a few days the stubble played host to around a hundred geese, an obvious distraction for our own harlot of the Goose world whose charges are now almost fully grown, how long before she does a bunk to go and play with the boys in the corn. They must have put some barley out the back of the combine because they have been there a few days now, along with a few ducks that have discovered the free feed.
One of our Friday rods, recently brought along a well-known fisherman in these parts. Advanced in years and as fit as a flea, he would fish some or other part of the river most days of the week. A resident of Stockbridge high street, he used to strike fear into the fishery management students gaining experience on the middle river. He once barked from fifty yards for me to stand stock still as I returned home for lunch with, what was for a puny teenager a heavy strimmer. A fish looked like it may rise and I may affect its decision to take his fly. I stood for many minutes frozen to the spot as he waited intently for the fish to rise before standing me down and moving on to another fish. He is still an accomplished fisherman, and fishes more days than not. I compulsively stand still on hearing his voice. I once walked into a pub in the depths of winter, and was greeted with the bellow “ I Know You!” from across the bar, which froze me to the spot. At another fisherman/journalist’s 70th birthday party on a nearby cricket field, he fixed me from twenty yards with another “You’re so and so from up the river!” which left me standing on the same spot fielding fishing questions for twenty minutes, much to my wife’s chagrin who was heavily pregnant at the time and desperate to get home. An entertaining and knowledgeable fisherman I would imagine he has fished almost all of this river system during his life and maintains the same enthusiasm for the sport as he did when striking fear into the hearts of fishery management students twenty odd years ago.

Week 103

2010-07-14T21:32:00.001+01:00

Week 103

Where did all the water go? The river that looked in great shape mid April has been reduced by half following a prolonged dry spell that has bought hosepipe bans to various parts of the country. It’s early season sparkle dimmed by an explosion of blanket weed that hides the clean gravel and swamps the once verdant weed.
Fishing has been hard but not impossible, unlike last season we have experienced some good sedge fishing with the fish feeding hard for a short period most evenings.

I have had a schoolboy with me on his year 10 work experience, and have made the most of the extra pair of hands to get some two-man jobs done. Most of the week has been spent moving fish around the ponds. We have had to have a reshuffle to make room for some Rainbows that we are growing on for our neighbouring big fish water, five hundred pink striped ravenous lumps that grow at twice the speed of our more refined home grown Browns. The lakes in question have had a hard time in recent weeks, the water temperature in the lakes soaring to 24 Celsius sending the trout soporific and reluctant to feed. The temperature in the river is currently around 18 Celsius, although the Mill Stream is now still water and several degrees higher as we no longer have enough water to run it.

The Pond is currently full of fry, mostly Roach, Rudd and Perch with the odd Bream. We have around a dozen Carp left that have been feeding on the surface, along with a shoal of twenty Bream of around 3lb that have broken with type and now look to the surface for sustenance. My son and his mate’s recent fishing efforts resulted in a net full of year old Perch and many many Rudd. There are also Roach fry in the river along with some huge shoals of Minnows.

We were away watching a cricket match in the centre of Basingstoke this past weekend and for over an hour a Red Kite was checking out the ground, they seem to be almost as common as Buzzards around here at the moment unless it is the same one or two who get around a lot. Swallows and Martins are still way down on numbers from a few years ago, while the Ducks who have had later broods have benefited from the warm weather with large numbers of off spring surviving through to adult plumage. Coots and Moorhens have also had a good year, and may need sorting out in the winter months. Coots and Moorhens shot on Vermin day on a stretch of the Test on which I carried out pre college work experience invariably ended up in the pot. Several Keepers would take them home to pluck in front of the fire while watching Crossroads, to be served up at a later date. One retired keeper liked the breasts fried in butter, along with much of his day to day food. He also grew his own tobacco and pitched up in the pub well into his eighties. His son, who is now also retired, was regularly talked off as one of the best keepers on the river and is blessed with carpentry skills that have chucked up a dozen or more fishing huts on the middle Test that could fill a whole series of “Grand Designs”

Week 102

2010-06-28T21:47:00.001+01:00

Week 102

Not much weed was cut in June, the river has dropped off quite a bit and already there are signs that blanket weed is set to explode. The Mayfly hatch went on well into the June weed cut although, for the past week, fish are fed up to the back teeth with them. Numbers of sedge in the evening are up on last year, with many still bumbling around on the river the following morning before setting themselves down in the fringe. A bat has also been flitting about on the bottom bends in the middle of the day. While clearing cut weed just before lunch, it careered around above my head. I assume it had some demanding youngsters who needed a feed, driving their mother/father out at an ungodly hour in search of sustenance.

Recently, we were invaded by the local over 60’s, for an afternoon of entertainment and sticky cakes. My employer laid on a Falconry display on the front lawn. The Chap in charge had a boot full of birds. Two types of Scops Owl, a Tawny Owl, Harris Hawk, Peregrine and Lanner Falcon, and a tiny American Kestrel. As soon as the birds were put out in the sun, a couple of local buzzards appeared, along with a Red Kite who swooped low to suss out the new kids on the block. From another box on the back seat he produced a Kookaburra. A whistle from his master set him cackling, and the sky above filled with crows, jackdaws, and many more eager to see the voluble alien creature. He didn’t fly the Kookaburra, but the Hawk went up, and the Falcons bombed across the lawn at speeds that were too quick for some eyes that had already wandered to the cake table.

My concerns over the Orchids proved to be unfounded. I have topped most of the meadow, rounding the Orchids as I spotted them. Walking through the half acre that we leave for Gamecover at the top of the beat there are a couple of places where there are a dozen in a square yard.
English Nature and English Heritage have set about the Iron Age defence ditch that forms one of our main drives on a shooting day. Most of the woodland has gone, although the mature Yew and Ash remain. A substantial Holly Tree was one of the first to go, revealing the mother of all Badger sets. Brock had gone to town in his endeavours to create “Chez nook”. Never mind me and my Pheasants damaging this ancient ditch, this bunch of badgers have flown in the face of English Heritage and dug a swimming pool, sauna, and chucked up a conservatory with mock Tudor frontage. It is quite a development and has impacted considerably on the historically important site.

Week 101

2010-06-14T22:26:00.001+01:00

Week 101

Some spectacular hatches of Mayfly have resulted in some of the best fishing for years. This week Mayfly have been on the water from seven in the morning until ten at night. Fish have filled their boots on hatching Duns and some heavy falls of Spinners. Light winds throughout the heaviest hatches have resulted in large numbers of Mayfly making their way back to the river to lay their eggs which bodes well for next year. Heavy hatches of Olives have been mixed in with the Mayflies, mostly medium midday jobs, but a good number of three tailed blue winged ones coming off in the afternoon with a noticeable fall of sherry spinners most evenings.

Cricket kicked in big time for this household recently, and during our travels around the county in a pantechnicon full of whites and wet weather gear to festivals far flung, we can report that mayfly hatches on the middle Itchen looked good, The middle Avon is filled with flowering Ranunculus and experiencing good hatches of fly and several New Forest streams are low and weed free. At home, the weed is putting in a spurt, and Ranunculus on the top shallows has started to flower.

Last year we were treated to a fantastic show of early summer orchids, this year they are slow to put in an appearance. The surge in growth of meadow grass may have made them less visible, or, like everything else this year, they may just be late. Whatever the reason my dogs come back every morning covered in ticks having run through the long grass, it may be time to start up the topper.

Urban foxes have made the news recently, and are not quite the cuddly creatures that most envisaged. Fearless of a human kind who seek to preserve them at all costs, recent incidents may yet see the folk of Bayswater and Balham turn out with horns and hounds to run Reynard to ground.

The Goose problem persists. Three have hatched and are not the colour that they ought to be. Dad could be Canadian, Graylag or Lesser white front, who knows? Mum is proud, and Surrogate Dad incredibly protective of his mottled brood.

In recent weeks Stockbridge High street has taken on a Jamboree/St George's Day air as large numbers of guides in uniform, parade along the pavement. Along with Otters, Cormorants and Japanese Knot weed, numbers of Guides are up this year.

Now I have some good friends who guide, and I have even had to do a bit myself. Unable to do "flim flam"for much of the day I am clearly unsuited to the task. Living on the premises like many keepers I prefer to drop in and out on any who require assistance. I would suggest that most would have caught fish over the past two weeks without the aid of a guide; at Mayfly time, something big and fluffy presented to a fish that is feeding hard will normally suffice. How on earth you spin this advice out for ten hours or more and justify a sky high fee I do not know. It is in the Guide's interest to make fishing seem raltively compicated to justify his appearance on the bank.
One problem that has arisen recently with guided fishing on this river are Guided rods who catch their limit for the beat early in the day, then continue fishing catch and release till the sun goes down as the Guide is obliged to fill the day. The regular who turns up when the fish are rising, hoping to take 2 brace for the pot ,will return home when his limit is reached and the river is rested. Guided fishing does have its place in the angling world, but too much on this river results in an increase in angling pressure, that you do not get with unguided regular rods.

Week 100

2010-06-14T21:15:00.001+01:00

Week 100

Hot dry weather, and with limited weed growth, the river is low. Hatches of midday olives have been the best for some years and rising fish are guaranteed throughout the afternoon. The river is stuffed with fish and with limited growth of marginal fringe and gin clear water, are easily spooked; disturb one fish and he may charge upstream and skitter another dozen. There are some huge shoals of Minnows in the streams around the garden and a podgy Brown Trout of five pounds or more hangs lazily in the slack water on the millstream in front of the house, the first few Mayflies have started to appear which may herald his imminent downfall.

After last years dearth of Swallows Martins and Swifts, the few that have turned up this year have gorged themselves on Olives in the afternoon, and, despite their late arrival should result in them bringing off a couple of broods at least. Some trees are still breaking bud, the Mulberry particularly stubborn in its refusal to join in the early summer festivities.
Some friends of ours on the other side of the river have recently completed an impressive pond project in their back garden. Three feet deep and full of natural goodness it teems with wildlife. Throughout a boozy late afternoon barbecue, Mayflies climbed clear of the water, frogs sang their song in the fading light and unfortunately a grass snake put in an appearance, sending “mien host” screaming to the kitchen. Keenly averse to snakes, a request has been put in for the triumph of a pond to be filled in, unless a plan for ridding the area of snakes is implemented immediately. The search is on for St Patrick’s mobile number, or at the very least some bloke with a mongoose. I couldn’t come up with an answer other than getting rid of the frogs which is almost impossible. Any ideas let me know.

2010-05-01T09:26:00.002+01:00

Week 99

If witchcraft is your thing it’s going to be a wet summer, the buds on the ash trees around here are just breaking out, but the oaks look as dormant or as dead as dodos. The warm week sent the fish looking to the surface as Olives flurried skywards around midday, the Swallows also enjoyed the feasting although I have yet to see or hear any Martins or Swifts. Things are starting to green up although the weed in the river has yet to get going, the river is full of fish and with little cover from weed and the marginal fringe growth, Mr Stabby, the Grey Heron, is starting to inflict some damage.
There are a good number of Duck in the valley with several sitting on eggs, the pond has been invaded by twenty or so Tufted Duck, who have nested on there before. Ten years ago it would have been covered in Gadwall, but we rarely see these now. There are no signs of any Carp remaining in the pond. One winter’s work for an Otter who when presented with an extensive menu of Trout, Grayling, Roach, Eels and Pike in the river and a pond full of Carp Bream, Tench, Perch Roach Rudd and Eels. Stuck rigidly to the double figure Carp in the pond and killed the lot, all over forty years old and unlikely to be replaced. Mr Fine Fleece would have us believe that they eat only eels, which they undoubtedly enjoy, and wasn’t there some concern over their declining numbers a few years ago. This troublesome Tarka killed only the large Carp. Commercial coarse fisheries that are suffering similar losses to their stocks face bleak times. The budget for compensation from our overlords is a drop in the ocean when compared to the value of the stock lost so far. There has been some talk in the angling press of the problem and a couple of MPs have also raised the issue in the run up to the election. The response from conservation bodies and the EA who proudly display PowerPoint presentations showing “Otters are up” lends little succour to those living with the problem, and adds to the general air of “who gives a toss about fishing” which currently prevails.

More news from Bonkers Central, and the current partiality for woody debris; expect to hear a lot about this one, any trees down in the river then please leave them where they are, along with the idea of opening up all of the hatches in the valley just to see what happens. The woody debris idea is in complete contrast to advice from flood defence who are part of the same body, who may also have concerns about opening all of the hatches. If we were to leave open the sluice gate in the front of the Mill house on this stretch of river, fifty yards of slack water upstream from the gate would benefit. The house, which has stood with its gate for over five hundred years would have a drained channel above it, water would be taken away from the main river channel and a thousand yards of fishing would suffer for the benefit of fifty, but hey lets have a go and see what happens. An advocate of this idea was recently offered a stretch of river on which to conduct experiments. Bemoaning the fact that there was little water coming down the particular stretch on which he planned to tinker, he asked the Keeper if anything could be done, who led him two hundred yards upstream to a hatch that had been in place for hundreds of years and sent some water down the stream on which he was to play.
Woody debris in the wrong place can cause all sorts of problems. Narrowing down the millstream with faggots, willow and sedge many years ago, (before The Wild Trout Trust, and Mr Fine Fleece and clipboard were even conceived) I did make use of some woody debris, it remains in place and has benefited that stretch of stream. Woody debris in the wrong place for the shortest length of time can do immeasurable damage to bank, bed and marginal weed growth.

2010-04-12T22:01:00.000+01:00

Week 98

A bit of a gap, caused by Thunder and Lightning visiting the parish. A huge ball of sheet lightning bowled up the valley hitting the power lines and cooking our computer and skybox. Several TVs in the vicinity were fried and up at our neighbouring put and take trout fishery many fish in the lakes turned turtle and one fisherman was left a quivering wreck after discarding his carbon fishing rod seconds before the lightning struck. The computer has been replaced, along with skybox and normal service has resumed.

During the last week of the Coarse fishing season my son and his mate had some spectacular pike fishing, often at this time of the year, with the fish moving into spawning mode, males will congregate around the females who are making their way to backwaters to spawn. It is an easy time of the year to locate pike, and if you catch one small jack it is worth chucking your spinner in the same spot a few times more as invariably there will be several other jacks in the same hole, along with a much larger female, all of whom are high on hormones and will slash at anything shiny dragged past their nose. The two boys landed six and lost four from the mouths of two spring ditches.

The bridge has gone up, a telegraph pole split down the middle and fitted with a green oak deck, with luck it should last a few years. The battle with the willows is nearly won, for now. A little open, the gaps will be replaced by phragmites and sedge within months. The four month old Brown Trout in the hatchery are feeding well and are now around an inch long, they are getting a little tight for space but it may be worth holding off putting them out into the pond for a few weeks as there is still a little colour in the river water, the clearer the water, the fewer the problems with gill infections.

The Goose came back, exhausted after a fortnight roistering with Greylags, Canadas and Pink foots up and down the valley and beyond. Sightings were made half a mile upstream, and eventually she was recaptured a mile downstream shaking her tail feathers at gaggle of lusty Canadians. Dad’s admonishment was fleeting on her return and he has returned to his dotage, tending to her every need.

The first Swallow turned up, and feasts on a midday hatch of Olives that hints at warmer days. The Cettis Warbler is back and the Mallards pair and unpair, the Drakes ultimately rodgering anything that moves. No Ducks are yet sitting, probably a little sore, judging by the carnality of recent weeks.

Week 97

2010-03-18T19:33:00.000Z

Week 97

Spring is close to springing, mid March and the first Daffodils have just come out. Another dry spell and the river level is holding up very well suggesting that the springs have been suitably charged during the “proper” winter that is hastening to it’s end. I had cause to travel up and down the Bourne Valley a few days ago and it is rattling along all the way up to Ibthorpe. As it races through St Marybourne, ranunculus is poking its nose from gravel that was dry in the Summer and I’m sure it wouldn’t take too much effort to find evidence of fish. A couple of Grayling fishermen turned up to fit in a day before the end of the season, and had some success on the surface with Olive patterns in the early part of the afternoon. They had several fish over 40cm in length, fat with eggs and in tip top condition. The Fish in the stew ponds have started to whack into the feed suggesting that the water temperature is on the turn.

The relentless battle with the forces of evil that reside in Crack Willow continues, another week should see the area safe from invasion for another year. Telegraph poles have also been delivered for a couple of bridges that I have to replace. They take a bit of manoeuvring so they were dumped near the top of our stretch. I then dragged them with the tractor to the river and floated them downstream to the bridge that has to be replaced. Many have nails and wire on them and it pays to remove these while the poles are in the water and easy to move around. Next week I will have to split them down the middle with the chainsaw to make two identical runners to put the slats on.
This week we were given the gift of Geese, Ninja attack Geese, and as bad tempered as they come. A Father and Daughter combination, they came with their own house and run, which we placed in the paddock. Fat White and Round they are to be our very own Fylingdales, an early warning system to warn of impending intrusion. Released from their pen after a week of incarceration, daughter has done a bunk, released from the shackles of her voluble Father she has shoved off to shake her thing with the hundreds of other geese that currently reside in the valley. Dad remains, a tad grumpy and warning of consequences when she returns. I spent one morning down on the Common looking for the winsome Goose but there was no sign. The Common was brown, not a patch of green to be seen. The winter really has hit the grass hard, but it will recover, there were also some huge stands of Phragmites, perfect habitat for our Bittern, who continues to hide in the same six foot square patch on the pond, booming away as the day draws to an end

Week 96

2010-03-05T20:55:00.000Z

Week 96

Fine weather, frost and not a drop of rain all week. Early afternoon Olives have trickled off the water with a few fish putting their noses to the surface. Some of the fish in the river are looking a little thin, the hard weather through January and February limiting the supply of food plus the urge to feed. The Grayling look in reasonable nick and will soon be making their way to the shallows and begin thinking about spawning. A Large Pike skulks in the deep water of the Mill Stream ten yards in front of the house. The Carp in the pond have taken a real bashing from good old Tarka, five have been dragged out and partially eaten this week, all superbly conditioned fish of over ten pounds and between thirty and forty years old. Fishing the pond in the summer you are invariably bothered by Eels, the staple diet of the Otter according to Colin the Conservationist, yet this fickle beast chooses to nibble on double figure Carp. Who will stand up and draw attention to the fact that the Otter population is now at a level that is causing damage to inland fishery stocks and inland fishery businesses.

The Bittern is back, a gormless bird, it is plainly apparent why its numbers are so low. Not content with flying across a line of guns on our last shooting day, it has been “hiding” in the smallest bunches of Phragmites, head in the air pretending to be a reed. On two occasions this week I have taken advantage of the fine weather to burn off some of the reed beds, on each occasion Billy the Bittern has tried to defy fire by acting like a Norfolk Reed, before rising like a Phoenix clear of the flames with smoke trailing from his bum. He sits in the same tree and returns to the meadow to sit in the smallest clump of marginals. I am told that numbers of Bittern are higher than normal in the UK at the moment due to a cold couple of months in Europe.
The Merlin has returned, I have chased him up the road on several occasions this week; He swoops in front of the car a foot from the ground before veering off into the hedgerow. Sunshine has raised the friskiness level of many of the birds, songs of seduction play loudly on the air, while a Woodpecker, bangs away for much of the day with his “look at me, look at me” drum solo.

Daffodils did not front up for St David’s day, although the Snowdrops have been spectacular. Shoots of weed are showing in some parts of the river, but as is the case with much of the flora, it will be a while before they open an eye from a deep sleep induced by a “proper” winter.

Gordon and his gods on Olympus recently decreed that 95% of all SSSIs must be in a favourable condition. Why 95% and what constitutes favourable, is anyone’s guess. Minions were subsequently dispatched on this quest for 95% favourable status.
This week we had our first visit from the person responsible for the implementation of the decree. An intelligent and eloquent ecologist, we spent a couple of hours going over various aspects of chalkstream management, White wellied Scientists with stun guns and phasers are to be teleported to the river next week to make an assessment of the river’s condition, and recommendations will be made on future work. The chap in charge had some sound ideas, and a few odd ideas. There is a feeling among many on the river that those working on the rivers are seen as “hicks in the sticks” by many of these policy makers, and despite a wealth of experience and qualification, we do more harm than good to the chalkstream environs. There is a back up group of advisors in place, some respected figures plus a few with inflated status born on the back of a wild trout revolution who I would hesitate to entrust with the school Goldfish bowl at holiday time, let alone a prime piece of chalkstream for an extended period.

I remain open to new ideas, and learn new things about the stretch of river I am responsible for every year, I await their report; although I fear that all reccomendations will be scuppered by future cuts in government funding

Week 95

2010-02-23T15:22:00.000Z

Week 95

Cold, rain and sleet, bog and mud underfoot with the river level about where it should be. Someone flicked the Snowdrop switch and in the space of a couple of days the majority came into flower. Daffodils and Bluebells should be the same having benefited from a proper winter cold snap. The river temperature is low and there is no sign of the mad midday Olives that can sometimes appear at this time of the year.
The tin shifting the silt is working well with the good flow and some parts of the gravel are starting to regain their sparkle. The Bittern that we disturbed the other week appears to have moved on, and a few birds sound like they have changed their tune in the hope of an early onset of spring friskiness. Plenty of Pheasants are strutting around, once the banging stops they can become quite bold. Pigeons have hammered the maize that I rolled down and several friends had a good few hours shooting, they are still pitching in from mid morning to mid afternoon but not in the numbers that they were when it was first rolled.

I have once again taken up arms, in the perennial struggle to repel invasion and occupation by Snap Willow. The stuff is indestructible, growing high, falling over, and taking root to climb high again. Someone once said that in the event of a nuclear holocaust there would be one survivor, the equally indestructible Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones, who in a barren wasteland would emerge dazed from behind a tree to declare “I saw the lights and I thought we were on” The tree from which he took shelter would undoubtedly be a Snap willow and it would still have green shoots. The Willows that I have been clearing this week have started to starve the bankside fringe of light leading to it thinning and exposing the bank to erosion. It only takes a few years of diminished light for severe damage to be done to a bank. I have also been killing the ivy on some of the bigger trees in the wood, cutting through the ivy at the base of the tree. At this time of the year it is easy to see the trees that need doing.
Once again Otters are to the fore this week. One or more has found the flight pond, and despite Mssrs Fine Fleece and Sandals, assurances that an Otter’s staple diet is Eels, has started to work his way through the Carp. Scales are scattered like confetti along the bank with three corpses so far, the biggest a Common Carp of around ten pound that was over thirty years old, two others also met their end despite the pond holding a good head of Eels. There are two large Koi Carp in the pond that I rescued from someone’s derelict swimming pool, they stand out a mile, and must be highly visible to an Otter but these have yet to be eaten. Maybe the answer is to issue fish with High Viz jackets to deter this latest threat. There is over a thousand pound worth of stock in the pond that we are powerless to protect, and will not be able to replace until the problem of a burgeoning Otter population is addressed.

Week 94

2010-02-05T22:21:00.000Z

Week 94

We had our last shooting day of the season. Beaters and Bums trudging through the drives, firing at anything that flies to finish off the season.

For a variety of reasons, our penultimate shooting day had to be called off; a first in this watch, but the result was a Wood full of birds for the final the day. Otis and I ran the top water meadow down, and put up twenty Snipe, who jagged their way towards the guns before doubling back and heading back up the valley. The Geese got up, and got down onto the neighbouring Big fish water, and ditch dwelling Ducks climbed steeply and made their way safely over the line of guns, mostly Mallard, a few Teal, and a tight group of Widgeon spectacularly whistling away high on the wind.

The Partridge had gone; the sparse hedge and game cover in the top drive offering little warmth. The Pheasants had hunkered down in the warm meadow and provided steady sport for the remainder of the day. The odd Woodcock got up, and just before lunch, a Bittern put in a suicidal lunge in front of a Cock Pheasant that someone had in their sights, a hasty cry from a neighbouring gun saving the endangered bird from an appearance on the game cart. With all eyes peeled for white tiger and dodo, little lead/bismuth was fired in the final drive.

Otters, a popular topic amongst keepers in this valley, raised their head at lunch. This stretch of river has been relatively untroubled in recent months, but prints in the snow on the middle Test revealed an Otter motorway between various stew ponds, and a two acre pond providing fishing for a cash poor fishing club, has seen it’s stock significantly diminished by the Cuddly Critters. The club have limited funds to restock and are reluctant to do so, understandably, if all their replacement stock is to end up on the bank with a bite out of their back.

In a recent article, the newly formed Angling Trust highlighted the problem of Otters taking stock from rivers and lakes, and the futility of the compensation scheme put in place by the EA to cover losses from Commercial fisheries. This year £100,000 has been handed out to those who have lost stock to Otters, which constitutes a quiet night in for the nation’s Otter population. For Seals on Salmon Rivers, read Otters on trout and coarse rivers and lakes.

The springs up an down the valley are now running well. The ditch that circumnavigates the village football pitch is now flowing, always a good sign that a decent amount of water has got into the ground. No sign of any fungus on fish in the river although the water is still fairly cool. The Roach look in tiptop condition and the clear water in the pond has revealed that we have some very chubby Bream!
Following the final day of the shooting season, I rolled one of the strips of Maize. This has drawn Pigeons from Trafalgar and beyond and will provide some good pigeon shooting in the weeks to come.

Week 93

2010-01-22T21:00:00.000Z

Week 93

The snow stayed for over a week, finally disappearing over a forty eight hour period when the wind switched from a Moscow departure to it’s more usual route across the Atlantic. A few white patches remain under hedges where the sun never shines but much of it has now gone. The Rabbits were relieved to see the grass again, the prolonged covering of snow driving them to gnaw the bark from trees as a means of getting a meal. Footprints in the snow give a strong hint as to what is about at the moment. The path of a fox setting off in a straight line across a field, a well worn path as a platoon of pheasants make their daily trek from their roost to game cover, the scatty route of an errant dog bumbling around where he shouldn’t be, the snow shoe prints of a pair of swans walking their way from one river channel to another, the fine lines of an Egret print as it silently approaches the water’s edge. The egrets in this valley show little concern over the presence of man, and it is not uncommon to get within ten yards of one before he flies off. Most mornings this week the dogs have ejected a pair of Waterail from a bank of sedges near the pond, they keep going back to the same spot, although I think it is a little early for them to be pairing up. The Roe deer and Hares congregate in the same place in prolonged cold weather a shallow dip in the hundred acre field seems to be a warm sheltered spot, it is nothing to see a dozen hares hunkered down in this dip on a cold morning.

For much of a school free week, the field behind our house became the hub of village life as many turned out to rekindle their passion for sledging. The bridleway from the village bore a procession of people armed with tea trays, plastic sheeting, blow up boats and much more to use up some adrenalin on one of the fastest slopes of this parish and beyond. It normally plays host to a particularly senior Pheasant drive but even the gamekeeper turned out to pitch his young children headlong down the slope. Not a warning sign to be seen or even a nod to health and safety, just an army of kids and parents flinging themselves down a slope and enjoying themselves.

During the freeze the river fell away and was maintained by spring flow alone, it coloured and rose during the thaw, falling back to level that is about right for this time of the year. The long spring ditch that leads up through the water meadow and around the football pitch has yet to start running on the other side of the village, a sign that the aquifers can accommodate a good deal more rain yet.

The tinning is underway and I have also had some welcome limbs of ash to chop up, the woodshed took a bit of a hammering in recent weeks and is in desperate need of replenishment.

Week 92

2010-01-06T21:51:00.000Z

Week 92

Snow, snow and more snow. Proper snow, about six inches of it, all piled up at the side of the road after my friend peeled the cellophane from his ten year old snow plough, attached it to his tractor and went a ploughing!

Much concern over the amount of salt and grit available, and our local supermarket is all out of Saxo. Panic in the aisles as folk stock up with non perishable food in readiness for a month inside following weather warnings from the grave and austere weatherpersons.

Snow is great. Cold and ice is what everything needs at this time of the year, Flora and Fauna need to know that it is wintertime and will be all the stronger and fitter for pulling through a cold snap. Perhaps it is a lesson that we could learn from nature. I don’t mean the Inuit practice of putting the old folk out on the ice overnight to see if they make breakfast. But those amongst us who can, should, get out and embrace the wintry conditions. Instead of asking everyone to stay at home, encourage the able bodied to get out and deal with life amid the snow. Have a go at driving on snow covered roads and develop a memory bank of how to adjust to conditions, rather than hiding away and waiting for the sun to come out again.

The frozen ground has resulted in the river falling and clearing, the spring ditches are flowing at about the average rate for this time of the year. The Brown Trout in the river look to be in reasonable condition, feeding sub surface and regaining the ounces lost post spawning, the Grayling remain in spanking form.

With heavy snow on the ground, the Pheasant feeders come into their own and become a magnet to a wide range of wild life. The small patch of ground beneath the feeder, clear of snow, with a handful of corn in the middle is a welcome meal for not only Pheasant and Partridge, but many other species of birds. Hand feeding with a bucket of corn in areas clear of snow can really concentrate birds in these conditions.

Ducks remain few and far between, although the wintry conditions have bought the Widgeon whistling up and down the valley. Gadwall have been all over this valley for the past five or six years, but this year, numbers are low. A few more Snipe jag about the valley, and I am sure that a few other species of Duck are on their way to these spring-fed and ice-free waters.
Christmas passed in the usual fun filled and hectic manner, a pile of meat devoured and a trailer full of empties for the bottle bank. New Year was, as always, a jolly night with a similar amount of meat consumed and a second trailer full of green and clear bottles with the added bonus that, for the first New Year Party in recent memory, no one fell in a pond!

Week 91

2009-12-21T22:53:00.001Z

Week 91

A little more rain, followed by an icy blow from somewhere around Moscow bought the first heavy snowfall of the winter. The river has continued to clear throughout the week and the spring ditches have started to flow. It is about where it should be for the time of the year. Steady rain post Christmas and into the New Year will be “money in the bank” for next season. The eggs in the hatchery are now eyed up and are now reasonably robust, the basket of eggs from two year old fish have been more successful than the basket from older fish, as was the case last year. They should hatch sometime between Christmas and New Year.

We had another day shooting. After a heavy fall of snow the preceding night the birds where slow to come down from their roost and as a result had not moved far from the wood in the water meadow. The snow continued for much of the morning and we saw a fair number of birds, plenty of Pheasant, a few Partridge and Pigeon and, on the last drive, a lone Woodcock. The Snipe that were about a few weeks ago have moved on and the Geese have yet to take up residence on the upstream water meadows. For some reason, there seem to be fewer ducks flighting this valley than in previous years.

At the start of this week, I was summoned to retrieve my daughter from the bus stop. While returning down the lane in the dark at teatime, we were halted by a display of flashing lights blocking the road. After parking the car, and a cautious inspection it became apparent that, in its attempt to pass an Audi 4x4 from the local manor house, a brand new, and super low slung Mercedes sports car had backed into the ford across the river and become grounded. It’s mid section touched the ground and the left wheel hung in the air The brains trust initially assigned to the task where talking of Chinooks and Chains, I reckoned that if the Audi Pulled over, I had a rope at home that would pull them clear and the world could continue to turn. We edged past the incident, picked up the rope and returned to the fray. I approached the car where Toad of Hall and Nikki Lauda were searching for the manual for the brand the new vehicle. The two wives were behind me, and getting on famously, as I bent to attach the rope, one them exclaimed, “ I really must apologise for my husband, he has no idea what he is doing” A polite reply was called for, but what do you say? The truth? - He doesn’t know what he is doing and it would be really helpful if he just got back in the car, or a placatory, “ Oh I don’t know, at least he’s having a go” The rope was attached and the low slung Mercedes dragged out amid much scraping and not much of a thank you.

Two days later I nipped up to our top bit of game cover to flatten a row of Maize in an attempt to hold a few Partridge for the shoot on the Friday. Half way through the row a lorry burst through the hedge from the dual carriageway and became embedded in the sticky field. The driver replete in high viz attire set of across the plough before balled up feet halted his tracks and he sought an easier passage scuttling up and down the verge of the road. Wondering what he was about, I approached with caution. I repelled his initial charge and it became apparent that he was in a state of shock, Emergency services were summoned and I set myself to blocking the gap in the hedge to prevent him running in the road. After twenty minutes of me rejecting his advances, the Blue Lights appeared and took him to hospital, and then on to home where he is now ok.

Half of the Partridge, in the top drive on Friday made their escape through the gap in the hedge, that the Lorry had made.

Such is life!

I was a Riverkeeper once!

Week 90

2009-12-17T22:25:00.000Z

Week 90

A lot less rain than in previous weeks and the river has fined down to a level that is now fishable for Grayling. One regular up from Dorset had a fish approaching 2lb, on a tiny pink nymph with a ton of weight to get it down in the flow. The fish was in peak condition and was not the biggest in the glide that he hauled it out of. A high proportion of the intense rain that we received in preceding weeks ran straight off the valley into the river, resulting in a quick rise in level and deepening of colour. Forty-eight hours after the last shower the river had cleared and has maintained a reasonable level at about what is expected at this time of year. The spring ditches on this stretch have started to flow, although the long ditch that leads up through the village and beyond is not flowing that high up it’s seasonal valley. Two days of this week were spent retrieving the tractor from a boggy morass in the wood. While ambitiously attempting to get close to a recently fallen Ash Tree, the tractor faltered and broke through the surface of the soggy water meadow. There is still a lot of water making its way down into the aquifers which bodes well for the coming months.

The Grayling Fisherman who fished this week has fished here for some time with a fishing friend of long standing. Sadly his friend died recently and the chap is now fishing alone. The impression that some non-fishers have of fishing is that of a solitary pursuit. In my experience the exact opposite is the truth. Most anglers have a friend, or friends, that they fish with on a regular basis. I have my own group of fishing friends, and the camaraderie and team play when fishing is as intense as it is when participating in team sports. Fishing alone has its rewards, but if a fishing pal should turn up unexpectedly then the banter and conversation rattles around like machine gun fire. The Grayling Fishermen had been left some tackle by his friend, which he used for much of the morning. I visited him on the bank in the afternoon, and noticed that he had reverted to his own tackle. I asked why he had made the change to which he replied, “ I always did catch more than he did when we came here, and now I know why!” instigating a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening that sent the lone fisher scuttling rapidly to the hut.

The eggs in the baskets are now eyed up. The microscopic eggs that I took from the two-year-old fish have been far more successful than the eggs from the three-year-old fish. The Brown Trout in the river look to be recovering well from their recent spawning and as a result of the high water are occupying different lies than they would in the summer.

We have another shoot pending and, with luck, most of the Pheasants are back where they should be. Heavy snow is also forecast which will make the day a little different.

Week 89

2009-12-04T19:57:00.000Z

Week 89

We had our first shoot at the start of the week, a wet and wind blown affair. It stopped raining mid morning and the birds flew superbly on a variable wind. The final bag was between sixty and seventy, mostly Pheasants, with a dozen Partridge and a dozen pigeon. Surprisingly we saw very few Duck and no Geese. On the first drive we are required to bring in the water meadow above our top boundary. A broad expanse criss- crossed by spring ditches, it is normally a good place to put up some ducks and geese early in the day. This time we saw no duck and no geese, but did disturb a few Snipe that skewed away on the wind. After a very wet period there is a lot of standing water in the meadows so it may be that the Ducks are spoilt for choice for a place to splash and dibble. On our second drive, a brutal trek across saturated plough, we put up many Partridges, the first fifty of which eschewed an easy exit downwind to fly directly into a forty mile an hour wind and over a main road to safety. Fortunately we saw plenty in the top strip of Maize, but I reckon we could have surrounded that field with a cast of thousands and that first wave of Partridges would still have headed into the wind and away, so determined were they on their course of action we had no chance of driving them over the guns. Old Labrador Zebo, had a great day. After a couple of weeks banging his gums and surviving on basic rations while fretting over a bitch in season, he had lost a lot of weight. I was in two minds as to whether to take him shooting. He worked his way steadily through the day, picking up birds from every drive. Nephew Otis failed to impress. After giving everything for the first few drives, he was a spent force for the last two, and bumbled along behind me asking to go home.

The river has risen dramatically in a week, mainly due to surface run off. Much of the water sitting in the water meadows is working its way down into the aquifers, the spring ditches are not flowing yet, although it can only be a matter of weeks before they start to run. A large dead Ash tree has come down in the wind along with a few other limbs, although the Amber tree near the fishing hut clings on to its final few leaves. The flush of water is giving the river a good scour, gravels are cleaned and silt moved on. With the banks edged in and the weed cut out the channel is completely exposed to the flow and is currently getting a thorough makeover.

The Merlin is back. While driving up the lane earlier this week, it darted out from the hedgerow. Flying along in front of the car, rising and dipping in flight for sixty yards or more before banking left through a gap in the hedge. Incredibly agile in the air, they have been turning up here for some years now.

The week ended with Christmas tree duty. The School and Village Hall both required trees for Christmas Fairs pending. The Christmas trees down hear currently fall into three categories. Very small (less than 3ft), Bloody Huge (over 40ft) and a uniquely shaped mid range selection; The School got a mighty fine six foot Christmas Bush, and the Village hall a reasonable twelve footer replete with nest.

Week 88

2009-11-25T22:26:00.001Z

Week 88

What a wet couple of weeks, we have had our fair share but up in the Lake District they had over twelve inches in the space of 24 hours. This “one in a thousand” event washed away bridges and flooded the town of Cockermouth, which sits on the confluence of the rivers Derwent and Cocker. Historically prone to flooding the populace of this small medieval town, accustomed as they must be to donning waders and wellies, can only have been astonished at the scale of this recent flood. We attended a family wedding at a smart hotel on the banks of one of the rivers; our first floor room overlooked the river and must be high on the list for new carpets having seen it on the BBC news. At lunchtime on the day of the family wedding my son and I were chatting to another guest at a table in the bar and just about to take the first sip of the day, when the full glass of beer slid a few inches across the table and toppled over. The lady from behind the bar appeared with a cloth, promises of a fresh pint and cursed “that bloody ghost that’s costing this bar a fortune” It was not an uncommon occurrence for glasses to fall over unaided in this spot. I was knocked off my stride for a moment and looked for an explanation but could find none. She faced this bizarre moment with admirable stoicism and practical common sense, while I looked under the table for Derek Acorha. Her outlook will serve many well in the wake of the recent freak flood, while mine will herald calls an ark.

It will be interesting to see what effect the flood will have on fish populations and invertebrates. A wet winter on the Dever invariably results in a downstream drift of invertebrates that eventually work their way back upstream over subsequent seasons. It is my guess that the headwaters of the Derwent and Cocker will have suffered the greatest loss, but hatches of fly will increase over the following years as flies work their way back upriver. The fish will be ok, they always seem to find somewhere to tuck away, although many salmonid eggs in redds will have been washed away.

On the Dever the heavy rain has lifted the river and there is now enough water to run the streams through the garden plus some extra to send down the millstream. A chap popped round in a fancy car this week, although I’ve seen fancier, selling photos that he had taken from his helicopter. I wish he had let me know when he was taking the picture as the garden looked a bit of a mess, as did an area round the back where I store much of my stuff, as a result much of this week has been spent having a bit of a tidy. Hopefully the fancy man in his flying machine will email the picture to me so that I can Photoshop out the untidy bits.

One day this week was spent in the company of The Cefas man, establishing boxes that need a tick and records that have to kept, in order to keep the fishing world turning and the river Dever flowing. This was followed by a visual inspection of the site. It’s a regular event that all registered fish farms/fisheries have to go through. Our inspector is a nice chap, who recognises that as much can be achieved over an informal cup of coffee, as the stringent box ticking exercise that we are required to perform as formality. The introduction of non-native species and illegal fish movements are always on the agenda. Non-native species entered the public domain this week on an ITV Chinese cookery programme. Over the past few years, we have regularly been alerted to potential invasion by Chinese Mitten Crab. An invasive freshwater crustacean it is a Chinese delicacy that some enterprising Coolie has chucked in the Thames. As a result, a breeding colony of Mitten Crabs now inhabit central London. It is an offence to introduce a Mitten Crab to another waterway, but these critters are renowned for ignoring movement orders and hiking miles cross- country to pitch into another river. The colony in the Thames has been established for some time and their future has been the subject of much debate. Why not expose this urban Mitten Crab population to commercial exploitation? a ready supply of a “high end” food source in the middle of town, and if over exploited, as it is likely to be, everyone’s a winner. Non-native species eliminated, and a few years of top soup!

Is it me?

Week 87

2009-11-13T19:24:00.000Z

Week 87

A few inches of rain have added a little colour to the river but not raised it’s level. We really do need many weeks of prolonged rain to recharge the aquifers for next season. The fish in the river have all but done with spawning and many have returned to deeper water for some R & R and to regain condition. Any hatches of fly at this time of the year are welcome fodder for a post-natal Trout.

I have also stripped a few fish for eggs to lay down in the hatchery. Normal mixed sex eggs, nothing exotic. For the last few years I have taken the eggs from two-year-old Brown Trout, as opposed to fish of three years or more. The eggs are slightly smaller, more can be fitted into a basket and they are easier to pick. This year as always I went through the pond around Bonfire night for fish to strip, for some reason the two year old fish were not ready to strip, the eggs had not been released from the ovaries into the body cavity and as a result could not be expressed from the vent, the few three year old fish that I had left were ready and almost over ripe in one case. The two year old fish ready for stripping two weeks later than in previous years.

The weed has now been cut and the blanket weed almost all rolled away. Despite the hint of colour in the water the freshly turned gravels have a silt free sparkle, another welcome anomaly at this time of the year are the low numbers of fish in the river and stew ponds with fungal infections. A perennial problem when the river warms up or cools down, the fungal infection is clearly identified by white patches on the head and body of the trout. Some years losses in ponds and river can be devastating but so far this year we have lost none in the ponds and I have only seen one infected fish in the river. The Grayling are also in tip-top condition and will rise to a fly around midday.

The Pheasants area still scoffing maize and if we shot at them tomorrow we would have a good bag, fingers crossed they are still about in a couple of weeks time for our first day. A few ducks are pitching in on the pond but numbers are definitely down on previous years although there are twenty or thirty on the river when I walk up with the dogs first thing in the morning.
Most trees have now shed their leaves bar an Amber tree that has now turned a deep maroon and Winter feels like it is definitely here. We have had a few hard frosts but the stingers through the wood remain head high in some places and will need a bashing from further frosts if we are not to finish a shooting day covered in welts.

Week 86

2009-11-03T12:53:00.000Z

Week 86

Just back from a half term trip to France. Fishing on the Yonne near Auxerre, a new river for us it once held the French Carp record with an 80lb fish caught by Msr Rieves near the river’s confluence with the Seine. The much photographed fish ended up in the Rieves family freezer, its value today to a Commercial Carp fishery that have spread right across France would have run well into five figures. The Carp on the river are few and far between and the chances of dropping in on some of them in a week are pretty slim. We fished a feeder or float for much of the week, catching numerous Barbel, Chub, Bream, Roach, Perch, Gudgeon and a Bullhead on maize, meat and maggots Great sport on light tackle, the fish were caught in fast flowing water gin clear and about five foot deep the Barbel in particular were in superb condition, rod wrenching bites and a thumping scrap on four pound line. The river was low, clear and many of the fish were clumped together in the deeper holes and glides, a familiar picture to home. Midweek we took ourselves off to a lake nearby and fished for twenty-four hours for Carp. Around eight acres in size we had the place to ourselves, the overnight temperature dipped to minus three and we did not touch a fish, not even a liner. The Fishery Manager proudly informed us that he had tipped three quarters of a tonne of pellets into the lake in the preceding weeks in his efforts to get the fish to grow for next summer, with little sign of feeding fish and clear unmuddied water most of those pellets must still lie on the bed of the lake what chance did we have of a fish taking our meagre offerings?

At home my parents kindly stepped in to do dog, fish, pheasant and Chicken duties. My employer shot the ducks for the first time, with few birds around and a clear night they were not too successful. The Pheasants are still holed up in the Maize and will make good tasty eating if Maize has formed the main base of their diet; a side dish of acorns can make them taste a little funny although they don’t seem to have found these yet. Strong winds and heavy rain greeted our return and the river has lifted a little, many of the leaves were blown off over a weekend and the screens on the stew ponds need regular cleaning if they are not to become blocked. The fish are now moving into full spawning mode with some huge redds dug on the shallows, Herons have become increasingly bold with the temptation of easy stabbings in the shallows, while the low water has at least kept the incoming Cormorants off the river.

Week 85

2009-10-21T11:42:00.000+01:00

Week 85

Much of the week has been spent putting the river to bed, knocking off the fringe and edging in the bank, the blanket weed is rolling into balls and pulling out a lot of the good weed. Cutting back the banks has revealed just how little water there is in the river. After looking so promising in spring the speed at which the river flow ahs dwindled this summer is alarming.

The wind got up for a few days blowing many of the leaves down; the screens in the stew ponds are covered with leaves every morning. The fish in the ponds and river have finally started to put their minds to reproduction, starting to scrape their redds on the same shallows that they use year on year. I was kindly invited to fish a lake near the middle river on a keeper’s jolly, some of the big browns on that stretch seemed to be far more advanced in their spawning. It also came to light that an enormous Dog Otter had been found dead on the road. Over forty inches in length it was some distance from the river. The local Conservation Officer suggested that it must have been chasing Rabbits???? Which is not behaviour that I would associate with an Otter particularly one that would have trouble getting his head down a bunny hole let alone the rest of his body. After ticking various boxes and jumping through a number of hoops the Otter has now gone to the taxidermists where it is being set up, although tragically not with a Rabbit in his mouth as someone on the day suggested. An enjoyable and entertaining day, we all caught fish and were royally fed and watered, I can confidently say that I have never eaten as much Roast Pork in one bread roll.

The first Cormorants have arrived, three sitting in a tree looking down at the flight pond. The pond is shallow at the moment and coloured from feeding ducks so not ideal conditions for the Cormorant although the shallow water has attracted a couple of Herons who are stabbing away at whatever passes by.

The Pheasants still spend most of their day in the one block of Maize, returning to the water meadows mid afternoon before going up to roost. Walking up the river at dusk they make a right racket as they go up to bed at night.
We have had our first frosts and several days of rain are forecast, the water meadows are wrapped up in the throes of autumn and the local town are threatening to turn their Christmas Lights on. Is it me?

Week 84

2009-10-12T13:00:00.002+01:00

Week 84

At last the rain came, an inch fell in one afternoon, the river coloured a little and fish started feeding on the steady trickle of flies that hatched throughout the afternoon. Fish were caught on the following three days and then the season ended. A season that initially promised much, delivered a superb Mayfly season and great early summer hatches of fly before an alarmingly speedy drop in river level resulted in two months of frustrating fishing, a fish caught in September worth four caught in June. Despite their confined quarters few Brown Trout are showing signs of irritability towards their fellow fish. There is a bit of jockeying for position in the crowded flow but little of the pre spawning aggression that is often seen at this time of the year.

On the neighbouring Itchen the local wildlife trust are having another go at eradicating man’s influence on the river in order to return to the days of The Plesiosaur. Stringent rules imposed by people in cutting edge walking boots who wear fleece rather well, have resulted in the Fishing Syndicate, who have managed the stretch of water for some years, turning down an offer of lease renewal. The rules imposed in the name of conservation have rendered the syndicated fishing unviable. Man has managed the stretch of river in question for millennia, early grazing on the water meadows, flood control, numerous water mills, a source of fish and fowl for food, all have left their imprint on the valley. Amid much crossing of fingers the trust would like the stretch of river left alone, unmanaged. Similar hair brained impositions on weed cutting by the Trust a few years ago caused chaos and were dropped. Some of this brow beating over what man has done to mother earth can have a detrimental effect. On the southern chalkstreams where man has had an influence for hundreds of years, we cannot absolve ourselves of all responsibility and just abandon the river channel to mother nature. There is a responsibility to maintain and manage the water meadows in a particular way in order that the level of Biodiversity that exists in the river valley is preserved. Abandoning the management practices may help certain species but may also have a detrimental effect on others. There are important issues that need addressing on the chalkstreams, like abstraction, pollution and stocking policies, crackpot thinking by wildlife trusts detracts from these key issues.

The Pheasants are spending much of their day in the acre and a half of Maize alongside one of the woods. I am not having to do as much dogging in as I have been doing, the Pheasants content with the maize and having no real cause to wonder. This week the dogs have put up several Snipe and Woodcock, the snipe from the water meadows where you would expect them to be, The Woodcock smack in the middle of a rock hard field of wheat stubble where you would not expect them to be.

Week 83

2009-09-21T15:45:00.000+01:00

Week 83

The dry weather continues and the river continues to drop. I contacted the EA recently requesting some flow data from the main monitoring station for this river, which just happens to be at the bottom of this stretch. At huge expense and disruption the river was diverted and lots of fancy electrical equipment built into the bottom of the river bed under the bridge that measure the discharge of the river on a daily basis. Spikes appear in the graphs when I open the hatch on the mill house which caused some initial concern with EA boffins when they first started using their new equipment, the hatch in question was installed midway through the nineteenth century so it was not exactly something that was sprung on the them. The Data showed that over the last sixteen years this particular river has only been lower than its current level on two occasions. Tree roots and old riverbank repairs stick out of the bank like Dinosaur ribs, the fish have shoaled up in the deeper holes and several of the shallows that the fish will spawn on in just over a month’s time are close to breaking the surface of the river.

The grass growth is slowing up now and most trees bar the Oaks show signs of autumn. The temperature has dropped markedly in the evenings and, as is often the case during September, much of the fly hatch and most of the fish caught are in the afternoon. Several bigger fish have been caught,one rod had a brace of four pounders and a two pound fish which would have been a good bag in May. Most fish have been taken on a nymph although those skilful enough to fish a lot finer and lighter have managed to take fish on the surface.

Hedgehogs are on the move, the weakening sun instigating a last big feed before they settle down for the winter. My old Labrador doesn’t understand Hedgehogs, it is the only thing that will send him silly, he circles them with staccato barks nudging and flicking them with his nose before finally plucking up the courage to pick the spiky thing up and bring it to me to release unharmed some distance from the house. The Young Labrador has a very soft mouth, picking up a fragile Pheasant Poult and bringing it to me unharmed. I have been going over a few things with him with the dummy and it all seems to be in there, he just needs to steady up and grow up and stop going at everything at a hundred miles and hour. The Spaniel shows no sign of improvement and remains completely useless but highly entertaining.

All the corn is cut now and the Pheasants are finding their way up to some of the best Game cover we have had in years, seven foot high Maize adorned with some of the biggest cobs I have ever seen.
While marking out the local football pitch one evening this week, I saw a man in the corner of the field with what looked like a large net or coat. I assumed that it was the local ferret man who had been hired to tackle a burgeoning Rabbit problem along that side of the pitch. I carried on with my marking and two minutes later heard a series of squeaks and squawks, intrigued as to what he could be squeaking I stopped and watched him from eighteen yard box. He was firing up the mother of all sets bagpipes, Banned from the back bedroom at home, he had chosen this particular spot to go over his repertoire without complaint from family or neighbours. I carried on marking the pitch to the skirl of a lone Pipey marching up and down the touchline, and wondered if the Pipey may not be a better solution to the Rabbit problem.

Week 82

2009-09-09T14:55:00.000+01:00

Week 82

This is all getting a little repetitive; fishing remains difficult with poor hatches of fly, low clear water and a proliferation of blanket weed choking the river. A few fish have been caught, mostly on small brown nymphs or cdc emerger patterns. September normally sees fish hurling themselves at a Daddy Long Legs or a Terry’s Terror but with fish crammed into the deeper holes they are more concerned with maintaining their position than feeding. The bottom bend near the Mill House is one of the deeper stretches and it currently holds forty plus Brown Trout along with a hundred Roach and Grayling.

The Shallows are now smothered in blanket weed; any holes that do exist are shallow and a vulnerable spot for a Trout to lie. The Environment Agencies Catchment Management Strategy of 2006 that looked at the possibilities of extra abstraction from Hampshire’s aquifers, acknowledged that the Trout fisheries of the middle and Upper Test were amongst the most valuable in the country and concluded that there was no more water available and the catchment was over abstracted, they also highlighted concerns about high phosphate levels in the river. The river is currently low and blanket weed is thriving in nutrient rich water. Glossy brochures and fancy media campaigns give the public the impression that the EA are on the case. I would suggest that the problem highlighted by the EA in the 2006 report has got worse in the years that followed the report’s publication, and that money spent from a limited budget on glossy brochures and fancy magazines may have been better spent on tackling the problems the report highlighted.

This obsession with media image and public perception has crept into many sectors of public life. I would hazard a guess that the Police have more “media trained” officers than ever before. Our local paper devotes a page a week to Mr “Jolly Face” Community Officer who is no doubt backed by a cast of thousands to get his copy in on time. If we lose hundreds of pounds of fish from a pond, out comes a Constable, kicks over a few leaves then sends a letter two days later informing that they have looked into the matter and are unable to take it further, Oh, and if I hear anything more about who could have stolen the fish could I please let them know; I still have the letter. Our Council send out their Glossy Newspaper to tell us all how prudent they are being with our money, in the post; many must question why they do this, including those compiling and sending the damned thing, as must many police constables question the value of the amount of media/community based work they are required to carry out when they would rather be out smashing in drug dealer’s doors or cleaning the streets of crime.

Several fish in the river are looking a little thin; this month’s invertebrate sample revealed lower numbers of most invertebrates in the river. This may be normal for this time of the year or it may have something to do with the condition of the river. A keeper on the main river experienced similar results.

The Pheasants are moving further and further from the pen, the four fields of Spring Wheat that we shoot over have yet to be cut and must be some of the last fields to be combined in Hampshire. As a result I am feeding the Pheasants hard in the wood, and chasing back with the dogs any that look like they are heading off anywhere else. A few Ducks are coming in on the pond at night, although I have yet to start feeding the pond.
Some leaves are turning and some have fallen, the forecast for the coming week is dry and warm, although it is definitely starting to feel like autumn is on the way.

Week 81

2009-08-27T20:26:00.000+01:00

Week 81

The river is down to its bare bones, crystal clear and fishing is very hard work. Fish are not feeding hard with sporadic hatches of fly and evening sedge fishing poor. Most fish that have been caught have been taken on plain nymph patterns that do not splash or startle. There are plenty of fish in the river the low water has pushed several from the shallows to congregate in deeper holes. The blanket weed has smothered much of the ranunculus and Celery. In parts the blanket weed has rolled into a ball and ripped out the middle of a weed bar letting all the water go. Algal blooms in harbours and estuaries along the south coast featured in the newspapers this week and are an indicator of how nutrient rich the water is flowing down some of our rivers. Blanket Weed is a filamentous algae that thrives in warm nutrient rich water this year, the growth this year is particularly luxuriant. The water is not particularly warm although it is low and clear allowing light to penetrate. Nutrient levels cannot be assessed easily with the naked eye, although the amount of blanket weed would suggest it is high. High levels of nutrients get into rivers through direct run off from fields or from Sewage outfalls. Much of the Dever Valley is now direct drilled with a harder field surface than one that has been conventionally ploughed. The intense showers that we increasingly experience run off a direct-drilled field faster than one that has been conventionally ploughed, the sewage works half a mile upstream has, at vast expense, had its capacity increased over the past two years. Neither may be a direct cause of the nutrient rich water running down this river, but then again?

Most nights this week we have climbed the stairs at bed time to find our bedroom invaded by Hornets. An inch or more long, they bumble and crash around the room while my wife and I chase them with plastic cups in our pyjamas. I am not sure if they are our native hornets, or some of the advance force of Mediterranean Hornets sweeping northwards across Europe. Not as agile in flight as a Wasp or Bee they are not difficult to trap and release but they will insist on coming back again and again.

Swallows and Martins are still here although it will be difficult to assess when they are gathering to fly south as there are so few of them. The Pheasants are doing well packing on weight and half are flying in and out of the pen to feed. I have cut all of the rides through the wood, and am now starting to feed them away from the pen towards the drives where we need them to be on a shooting day. There is a Fox about and once the four fields of wheat are cut that we shoot over, we shall have a good crack at shooting it.
The grass has had a late season flush while the fringe is just past its best with many of the flowers starting to fade. The water meadows will require one last cut before falling temperatures steady the growth.

Week 80

2009-08-07T21:51:00.002+01:00

Week 80

Heavy showers throughout the week, Combines laid up and fasting, desperate for a fill of ripe corn. Fishing has picked up a little, with fish caught on the surface and beneath with the drabbest of pheasant tail nymphs. Two fish over four pounds have been caught this week along with some very chunky Grayling. One fish caught on an Olive Klinkhammer had a mouth and gullet full of Yew berries. Bright red, a quarter of an inch across and poisonous, they would have cashed in his chips in days if the angler hadn’t hauled him out. I am not sure how you would imitate a Yew berry and what he saw in a Klinkhammer that was remotely similar to what he was feeding on.
Trout eggs are around the same size, and fish will munch eggs washed out of a Redd but that delicacy is six months away. Brown Trout are reasonably discerning creatures when it comes to diet, opting for morsels that are in season. Chuck a Mayfly at a Brown trout outside May/June on this river and you will receive a two-finned salute. Sedge in winter, a Hawthorn in September all will receive the same response. So why this fish was feeding on little red ball shaped things, so far out of season, is a mystery. Anyway, maverick Trout is bagged and in the freezer - normal service resumed.

Conditions must be good for Butterflies as the water meadows are full of them, Painted ladies, Cabbage Whites and many more lifting from the Loostrife as the dogs crash about.

The first few Pheasants are finding their way out of the pen, the heavy showers have not affected them and they continue to be bombarded with Radio 4 to scare away the foxes, a high brow group congregate in the corner to contemplate Thought for the day, while several argue over selections for Desert Island Disks; all come together over The Archers and are disturbed that Tony Archer finds time to wash his Landrover in the middle of Harvest.

Showers at this time of the year provide little succour for the trees, some of which look decidedly sick. The Balsam Poplars remain at death’s door, while the Horse Chestnuts struggle on. On a day trip to London to visit urban relations we walked down an avenue of ten year old Horse Chestnuts that looked to be on their way out. Fifty yards on, a mature tree of a hundred years or more thrived, positively in the pink and occupying “position A” between the river, bandstand and ice cream van. Trees can be fickle things. Some will go tall, some will stay small, their condition heavily dependant on the site in which they are planted or the genetics of their parents.
The Chickens are looking to raise their game. Whisper it quietly, but these fortunate fowl who laid oversized eggs thus qualifying them for a first class ride in a Waitrose pie, are now laying smaller eggs. They rattle in our egg box in the fridge door (the eggs not the chickens) The Chooks only eat corn, household scraps and whatever falls into their pen, maybe the reduced intake of pellets that promote egg laying has had an effect.

Week 79

2009-08-03T14:42:00.000+01:00

Week 79

Heavy heavy showers, few fishermen on the bank and few fish coming out of the river; the majority of fish that have been caught, taken on small drab nymphs. Anything too flashy or splashy in the low clear water scaring more than it attracts. A few more big fish have been lost, in various parts of the river. Playing and landing the long established leviathan Browns difficult in a heavily weeded river and on fined down tackle. The Blanket Weed has really taken off and in some stretches has smothered the Water Celery and Ranunculus, it has bloomed very quickly this year which is surprising given the mixed weather of the past few weeks.

The Pheasants have arrived; the collection day put back several times after heavy showers were forecast. At eight weeks old they are fairly hardy but can still be susceptible to a heavy deluge that can leave them cold and wet and result in losses. The showery weather is also perfect conditions for the onset of Gapes in the young birds. A nematode worm that sits in the windpipe of the young bird it will eventually kill its host if left untreated. The infected Poult will make a coughing sound and gasp for air. Many treatments are available although most of the effective off the shelf treatments are now only available on prescription; today the easiest way to administer the treatment is to buy food with it already added.

Many of the surrounding fields are fit to cut, much of the Winter Barley and Rape has been cut, although with ninety percent of the harvest still to be carried out there must be some concern over the medium term weather forecast. The strips of Maize grown for gamecover are some of the best in years unlike much of the other maize grown in the valley for cattle feed. Once the fields have been cut these strips of Maize act like a magnet for all wildlife looking for shelter and food.

Some Ducks have found the small patch of Barley cut on the outskirts of the village and are choosing to pitch in there in the evening to fill up on spilt Barley rather than the safety of a sheet of water. A skein of Geese makes it’s way noisily up and down the valley looking for stubbles to feed on.

I have just completed the monthly invertebrate sample which threw up identical results to last month; there were large numbers of small Mayfly nymphs which bodes well for next year and thousands of Gammarus. Blue Winged Olives, however continue to be thin on the ground.

Week 78

2009-07-29T22:19:00.000+01:00

Week 78

Weed cut done and dusted and the difficult fishing continues. A few Browns are showing on the surface but many are now fixated with sub surface feeding. Despite the mixed weather fly hatches continue to be good, flurries of Olives appear from midday onwards and the sedge hatch builds from mid afternoon. A few settled days would, I’m sure, get many of the fish slashing at Sedges. This kind of tricky fishing led many beats to first start introducing Rainbow Trout that were considered to be more free-rising under these conditions. Nowadays they are stocked into the river throughout the season. They are more willing feeders than Brown Trout. Put a 50/50 split of same-size Browns and Rainbows in a pond and the Rainbows will out compete the Browns for food, the difference in size clearly visible within a matter of weeks. We don’t stock Rainbows and there is no pressure to provide a maximum bag for every angler, sometimes a fish caught in July/August is worth four caught in May. Piling more Browns into the river is not the answer and can cause more problems in the close season with too many fish over wintering in the river competing for a scarce food source. Guaranteeing bags can induce bad practice in game bird management, guaranteeing bags in fishing does the same, with water overstocked and any sense of natural balance lost.
Any chump can pile heaps of fish into a body of water, bung on a sparkly nymph/lure and haul four fish out for the most inept of clients, corporate fishing relies on this kind of sport as do some of the more disreputable guiding services. Fishing is not about a guaranteed bag, fishing is about the day, for every successful day there may be an unsuccessful day that will make the rewards of the good day all the more greater.

Angling has taken a bit of a bashing in the press this week, with celebratory headlines proclaiming the return of the Otter, and Griff Rhys Jones clumsily sticking his oar into the water over public access to rivers.

Otters are great. They are furry and brown, fiddle with crabs, and do cute things in water; Hugh Heffner made a million on similar creatures in America. At some point the decision must be made that we have enough Otters, as indeed Hugh had to make in his mansion in Beverly Hills. Currently I have several miles of electric tape encircling the stew ponds and have picked up half a dozen fish with chunks out of their back, dead, on the weed bars. Who will say that we have enough Otters? As Homo Sapiens occupying top spot in the evolutionary triangle, we have a duty to maintain a balance.

Griff Rhys Jones hasn’t looked too good on the water in any of his recent series. Stuck in a Wind in the Willows world, he has shown little understanding of the true riverine environment. His disneyfication of the river environment appeals to a wide audience and is typical of an increasingly media driven world.

I enjoy canoeing; once upon a time I was quite good at it. I also enjoy fishing; there is room for both. For the true canoeist much of the rivers of this isle hold little appeal. On the Tryweryn in North Wales, the Dee at Langollen - excellent canoeing water, canoeing and fishing have cohabited successfully for many years. Jones’s call for the masses to break out their kayaks and start breaking lines is daft, and an ill thought out publicity stunt to increase viewing figures.

Week 77

2009-07-16T20:24:00.000+01:00

Week 77

The hot weather came to an abrupt end with some intense showers that bashed loads of leaf laden willow branches down into the river. Much of the rain was absorbed into the bone dry ground, greening up the brown bits. It had little effect on the river other than to give a brief flush of colour. Fly life continues to be much improved on the past few seasons although many fish are tucking themselves away and concentrating on sub surface feeding. The Browns behaved in exactly the same manner last year, it is one of the reasons that some beats stock Rainbow Trout at this time of the year as they are more predisposed to continue feeding on the surface for a greater part of the season.

The weed cut is going ok, I am having to leave thick bars to hold the water level up. I am also bumping several fish with my scythe that are lying doggo, including one fish of eight pounds or more in the middle bends that I had not seen since the winter. Several Eels are putting in an appearance as they start to make their way down river and ultimately to the mid Atlantic and the Sargasso Sea. Big Eels most of them. 2 foot long and between 1 and 2lb in weight.

The Grayling in the river look to have had a bumper time with the flies, many are feeding on the surface and are decidedly rotund; high in the crystal clear water over emerald green weed with sun on their back they look stunning.

The fine spell of weather has brought the wheat and Barley on no end, and early start to harvest is anticipated, although yields may be affected by grain size due to the lack of rain. Plenty o Partridges are “chuckaawing” away in the field of Barley behind our house which also houses a few Leverets.

There are at least two broods of Pheasants in the wood, and the Ducks seem to have had a reasonable year. The pair of Swans on the Flight pond have failed
A sexy young Greyhound over the road has been in season for a few weeks. My eldest Labrador Zebo has been turned to Jelly by her romantic offerings. Off his food for many days he has shed pounds in his efforts to roll back the years. My Wife tells him to stop being such a silly old fool, and that the deed is overrated. The 10 yr old dog when presented with the flighty piece standing, tail akimbo amid the buttercups, failed at the first post. His bottom jaw started banging in a decidedly unattractive manner, his gaze turned milky and he came close to keeling over. The strumpet in question presented herself to the worst Spaniel in the world who passed her by without a second glance, and then to the 18 month old, six stone puppy who shot off to chase Moorhens, leaving the elder statesman to rue his wobbly legs and amorous mind.

Week 76

2009-07-07T21:47:00.001+01:00

Week 76

Thirty-degree temperatures for much of the week, and fishing is hard to say he least. The weed has grown out of the water and is maintaining the level of a fast falling river. Several fish who have been resident on the bottom bends for some years are proving to be real timewasters, with only the finest tackle and perfectly presented fly inducing a take or a play and miss. Sedge numbers are building in the evening and surprisingly the Grayling have remained on the fin and feeding for much of the day. The fringe bordering the river is bursting with colour, purple spikes of Loostrife mix with swathes of forget me nots, yellow monkey flower and balsam.
There are good numbers of Butterflies in the meadows, although I couldn’t name half of them, and funny moths adorn our house wall in the morning. A Nightingale has been singing for much of the week and the Swallows and House Martins that bothered to turn up have all had broods, many of which have fledged.

This year we have once again been warned about the falling number of Bees across the country, for much of this week the perennial Geraniums and other garden dainties around here have been alive with Bees, I have not seen as many for a long time although I have not come across any nests yet, or seen any swarms hanging from trees.

The water temperature in the pond and the river is climbing slowly, algae has bloomed in the pond and it has been necessary to bash the water around with the pump to freshen it all up and add a little oxygen.

The July weed cut is imminent and it will be a heavy one and a tricky one, leave enough weed to hold the water up and cut enough to make areas hold fish. Cut too much and the water is lost and the weed replaced with blanket weed, cut too little and the river becomes impossible to fish. The reduction in flow over the past few weeks has been quite alarming; the Mill Stream is now a pond with all spare water pushed down the river. Fishing over the coming weeks promises to be difficult, but that is often the way with High Summer fishing, and is more often than not followed by a bumper September.

All of the Chickens have now been tagged and ASBOed after numerous incidents of anti social or over social behaviour, and reside in an enclosure with Gun Turrets on an island in the river. An Avian Alcatraz, it can only be a matter of time before one of the resourceful fowl starts chipping away at the walls with a tea spoon and swims across the bay to resume what it considers to be its rightful position on our neighbour’s antique dining table; a sentiment no doubt echoed by our elderly neighbour who would, I’m sure, insist on a dress code of Sage and Onion.

Week 75

2009-06-25T21:45:00.000+01:00

Week 75

A tricky week for fishing, several days towards the back end of the weed cut completely unfishable. Everyone seems to have had a lot of weed to cut, and it took me longer than ever before to clear all of the cut weed down. Unfortunately during this time the inlet pipe to the fry stew became partially blocked and several hundred of this year’s fry perished. Further down river a keeper has lost hundreds of Brown Trout Stock fish after weed built up overnight. Fortunately we have still have enough fry for our needs, my friend downstream is desperately scouring the country for pound plus Brown Trout that seem to be in short supply. The weekend following the cessation of weed cutting saw a marked improvement in fishing with good hatches of Olives and fish taking spinners in the evening. Sedge numbers are building up and the fish feeding time is getting later and later in the day.

It is a fantastic year for Orchids, more and more push their way up in the meadows, and I put back the topping as increasing numbers appear. The Balsam Poplars are having a terrible time, several of the younger one’s have died and the more mature ones look decidedly tatty. All other trees are in the pink bar some bankside Alders that have lumps and bumps on the leaves that could be a virus.

With the warm temperatures the Flight pond has experienced another bloom of algae and is full of fry, mostly Perch, Roach and Rudd. The Tench and Bream have also been carrying out some late spawning, thrashing around in the margins of the island. My son scooped half a dozen of the Perch fry out to put in his fish tank, where they lasted five minutes, and now lie inside a Malawi Cichlid.

The Grass Snake has turned up again in the garden pond, Last time he/she was the size of a bootlace, now over a foot in length, it is wreaking havoc among the newly formed frogs.

One of our new hens that have never knowingly underlaid has been introducing herself to the inhabitants of the Parish. Not content with coming into our house through the patio doors, she has ventured further afield. My daughter opened her bedroom door at teenage dawn (about 10am) and found the errant hen pecking at the carpet on the landing. Our elderly neighbour rang the house on several occasions this week to inform us that our nosey hen was touring her kitchen or perched on the mantle above the fire. Unfortunately the wandering hen has had to be incarcerated, although our neighbour requested incinerated, after a calling card was left on her highly polished antique dining table.

Week 74

2009-06-16T21:43:00.002+01:00

Week 74

Fine dry weather, Mayfly still hatching – the fish, relatively unresponsive. Full of food after a fortnight of bacchanalian feasting on tasty Mayflies the Brown Trout and Grayling lie mid-water or hug the bottom, physically and mentally digesting the excesses of the past few weeks. The odd fish rises, mostly small stuff, juveniles who never seem to tire of feeding, Mum and Dad sit on sabbatical from the hard stuff, turning their noses up at the tastiest Mayfly that passes their way. Give it a week and they will be up feeding again, the odd Olive and maybe a Sedge, but show them a Mayfly and they will turn away, the effects of surfeit and excess still fresh on the mind.

The June weed cut has been one of the heaviest I have known, with the river flow decreasing by the day. The weed that is left becomes more important than the weed that is cut. Enough must be left to hold up the water level with spaces cut for fish to lie. Half of this water is “bar cut” – bars of weed left to hold the water up, with space between the bars for fish to lie. Strip too much water out and the water would drop by up to a foot on the shallows, the fish would congregate in deeper holes and become concentrated, and reduce the number of fishable areas. The Mill Stream has now been reduced to a pond with all the water pushed down the main river.

The House Martins have turned up, a pair taking up their summer residence on top of the security light sensor in the stable yard. For unbeknown reason they have arrived eight to ten weeks after their normal arrival date and have missed out on a feast of fly life. No Swifts in the eaves of the Mill House as yet, although several were performing high-speed acrobatics over Longparish Cricket ground at the weekend.

I have come across three separate broods of Partridge this week, all French, but an indicator of the favourable conditions for raising chicks this year; with luck English Partridges will also be enjoying the same success with their broods.
Orchids are poking their heads up in the meadows, only early purples, but orchids all the same. The yellow of the alien invading monkey flower mixes with the Forget me Nots as the fringe starts to bloom and herald the start of summer proper.

Week 73

2009-06-08T13:19:00.001+01:00

Week 73

A warm week and the Mayfly hatches continue with some heavy falls of spinners in the evening. A few spinners have fallen early in the morning giving a brief rise, the fish taking a lengthy siesta before rousing themselves for their evening feast. The weed growth is phenomenal, Water Celery a foot out of the water and Ranunculus in full flower, the water flow, although reduced after the long dry spell, is pushing over the banks due to the dense weed growth.

On a weekend cricketing foray to Woodgreen in the New Forest, we passed over the Avon a mile from the ground. The Ranunculus was up out of the water and flowering as far as I could see downstream.

The dearth of Swallows, Swifts and House Martins continues. There are several large broods of Mallard on the river along with Two tufted Ducks still sitting on clutches of eggs. The Ducklings are feasting on the heavy hatches of fly, as are the Wagtails that momentarily hover as they pluck an ascending fly from the air. I almost trod on a brood of French Partridge as I tramped my way through the wood, the mother refusing to leave her brood as they bumbled their way around my wellies. The current spell of hot dry weather is perfect for rearing chicks, plenty of insect life for food and no heavy rain that can kill a fluffy feathered chick in a matter of minutes.

A similar hot spell a few years ago would have resulted in a particularly amorous couple breaking cover. Always on a Wednesday afternoon, The Army officer who like his comrades was given the midweek afternoon off to do PT opted to put his privates through their paces with a bottle blond beau who also happened to be orange all over. Making themselves comfortable on a bridge with an aptly romantic sobriquet at the top of this beat, a picnic would be laid out, wine would be taken and before long the clothes would come off. I was first introduced to their antics by a rod who stopped me on my way home for lunch after some weedcutting. He informed me that there was a bit of a “Holiday Camp” atmosphere at the top of the beat and would I mind taking a look as it was disturbing his fishing. Unsure as to what to expect I grabbed my dog and set off, still in my waders, up the bank, jumping into the river before the final bend leading up to the bridge to cause the maximum surprise to what I expected to be kids mucking about. I charged around the corner and was stopped in my tracks by the pair, set to partners and galloping their way over the bridge, The Officer cool as you look tactically withdrew and stood to attention to meet my gaze,

Dumbstruck the best I could come up with was,

“I hope you’re not fishing!”

He assured me he wasn’t, my dog found his picnic before he could introduce me to his “wife” and I made my way downstream frantically calling the dog’s name.
They turned up a few more times that summer and although funny at first did become rather tiresome. By chance I bumped into him in Homebase in the winter, not with Lady Marmalade it has to be said and fleetingly he looked please to see me, until grey cells reminded him of where we met last.

Week 72

2009-06-01T15:17:00.000+01:00

Week 72

A fine and warm week, the river is down and the weed is up, out of the water and flowering, temperatures in the twenties most days and a slight wind have resulted in some of the best Mayfly fishing in recent years. While driving down the lane at eight thirty from a cricket match earlier this week, there were clouds of Olives and Mayflies dancing over the fields and hedge, the still air allowing them to return to the river and lay their eggs resulting in some heavy falls of spinners that all fish have feasted hungrily on. Evening fishing has been fantastic with Mayfly patterns catching most fish; some have struggled in the morning when the fish have been at their most soporific after the previous night feasting.

While eating in the garden one evening this week a similar scene was played out over our heads, as the Mayflies massed beside a Sycamore tree that stands in the corner of my vegetable plot to perform their courtship dance. In Previous years this sight has been accompanied by the whistling and whirring of Swallows and Martins as they criss cross the garden spectacularly taking the Mayflies in hundred mile an hour mid flight. This year, we have to date, a handful of Swallows, no House Martins and a handful of Swifts. In previous years up to a hundred swallows and Martins have used the stables and house eaves for nesting sometimes up to three broods in a summer. I don’t know where they have got to but they are missing out on a real feast.

I also carried out the monthly invertebrate sampling this week. Once again high numbers of Olives and Gammarus came up along with a similar number of caddis and mayflies as the last sample. There were more Blue Winged Olive in this sample, double figures, but not a significant amount.

The flight pond is warming up, and the algae blooming strong, it may be necessary to flush some water into the pond to drop the temperature, the fish do not seem distressed although they are not being fed at he moment.
All of the chickens have settled in and are producing eggs at a slightly reduced rate now that they are fed with corn. We have feasted on Omelettes and scrambled egg for much of the week and probably have a cholesterol count bordering on life threatening. But in the words of a well known Scottish comedian “ The graveyard’s full of people who’d love my cholesterol count”

Week 71

2009-05-28T22:40:00.001+01:00

Week 71

Reasonable weather bar the wind that seems to have blown for much of the week, causing a particularly large bough of a particularly senior ash tree to give up the ghost and crash to the ground.

The fishing, although difficult, has been rewarding for those who have battled the breeze. The river here follows some huge meanders, and with woodland on the opposite side, more often than not it is possible to find a sheltered lie to cast to. Once again Olive patterns have caught the most fish, The same was true twenty years ago, although then the Olive imitations were more traditional patterns like Greenwells Glory, Kites Imperial or a Ginger Quill, rather than the Wulffs and Adams developed on the other side of the pond that are in wide use today. Mayfly have started to put in an appearance although few fish are looking at them yet.

The grass in the meadows has shot up and is dotted with Cuckoo Flower, Ramsens are up and out, along with the Iris. Balsam Poplars look a little iffy, particularly some of the younger ones that were planted ten years ago and the Oaks have beaten the Ash in the race for full bloom.

This month we were down to one chicken, natural wastage and mysterious disappearance cutting the herd to one, a very good one, but despite all encouragement and training, only able to produce the one egg per day. A few phone calls to source new fowl, revealed that some Free Range chickens laying eggs for one of the more upmarket supermarkets were out of contract and were available for a small fee. Further enquiries revealed that the birds in question were only 72 weeks old and had been offered short term work filling pies for the same supermarket; the eggs that they now laid were too big for the egg boxes that displayed a happy chicken in a field living to a great age living on grass and tofu.
In a shed on wheels there were several thousand hens, they had access to the outside world of willows and gravel, and yes they were fat, but then their future was in a pie. They were undoubtedly better kept than Battery hens of old, but bore no resemblance to the free-range chicken on the egg box.
I took home twenty, but could have taken a thousand. Few had feathers on their bum and all were a little reluctant to leave the sanctuary of their new hen house for a few days. They all came with an egg in, and have continued to lay every day, we are inundated with eggs that are never knowingly undersold; they may not fit the supermarket egg boxes but they do fit the egg box in our fridge. It’s easy to keep chickens and you get good eggs from a happy chicken. Undoubtedly they are a nuisance in the herbaceous borders, but get them on your veg garden in an arc that you can move every day and they will not only provide you with eggs but bigger and better veg too for several years - surely a greater long term return, than one family sized Chicken and Mushroom Pie.

Week 70

2009-05-28T21:39:00.000+01:00

Week 70

Water clearing with each day although the brown algae that lifts from the bottom of the river and breaks up in broken water adds colour in the afternoon. The Flight pond is showing signs of blooming with algae, nutrient rich from all the Ducks that sit on it, green patches with a purple tinge form on the bottom and then lift to the surface, it is a sure sign that water temperatures are on the rise. Roach and Rudd fry are in evidence in the margins.

Fishing on the river has been good with all anglers catching fish, The Hawthorn hatch has been very disappointing although the steady trickle of Olives from mid morning onwards has more than made up for this. As is often the case at this time of the year we are briefly inundated with early daddy long legs, these will vanish for a few weeks before appearing in numbers through July and August. The Otter is back although currently kept from the stew ponds by electric fence; half eaten eels and Trout sit on the fishing bank most mornings. There are a number of small Perch in the river at the moment, year old fish they are stunning in the clear water, the vivid stripes and red fins give the appearance of a tropical fish. They inhabit the same deep and shady holes that have held big Perch in the past and rarely move more than ten yards from home, unlike the ever-transient shoals of Roach who roam up and down the river and rarely seem to settle.

The weed growth in the river has been spectacular, the white buttercup flowers of Ranunculus already breaking the surface, the luxuriant growth raising the level of the river, Marsh Marigolds are out and the oak trees are breaking into bud, a solitary cuckoo does the rounds and several Ducks sit on eggs in the fringe, the only thing missing from this heralding of Summer the lack of Swallows, Martins and Swifts

Week 69

2009-05-05T21:31:00.000+01:00

Week 69

First week of the new fishing season, steady rain on the first day improving throughout the week. Fish have been caught on every day, all are fish from last year or longer, all have over wintered well bar one of two and a bit pounds that had been chewed by an Otter. Olives have been hatching steadily throughout the day with a few sedges fluttering about. The Hawthorn have been disappointing although I have seen numbers of them on hedges a hundred yards from the river, a good blow of wind would have instigated a feast for surface feeding fish and some exciting fishing.
Fish have been rising but not freely, looking and rejecting Naturals as well as imitations, it may be that the river is still a few degrees too cold to set them off.

I carried out the monthly kick sample to assess numbers of important invertebrates. As expected there were oodles of Gammarus Shrimp, hundreds of Olives and Caddis along with many Mayflies and Stone Flies. The Blue Winged Olive numbers were low, only nine, where previous samples on nearby stretches of river ten years ago threw up hundreds of the tri tailed, stripy legged little critters. The sample also threw up a huge number of newly hatched Bullhead.

A lone Cuckoo continues to patrol, the main body of Swallows and House Martins have yet to arrive along with the Swifts. A pair of Swans is “loved up” near the bottom boundary. The courting ritual of mirroring the other’s movements and wobble necked courting dance mesmeric, although I don’t think I would get anywhere with my wife if all I did was copy her movements and waggle my neck. “You’ll have to try a bit harder than that” would be the response.

The candles are out on the Horse Chestnuts, the Oaks and Ash holding on for a little warmer weather. Ramsens are in full bloom and scent around the pond and much of the week has been spent cutting grass and sorting through fish. The small fish in the hatchery are thriving in the big tank so I may hold off a little longer before putting them out into the pond running with river water.

While visiting a friend on the middle reaches of the river concerns were aired about the quality and clarity of the river. Last year the middle river to the sea suffered from coloured water and rafts of weed for much of the season. This year the winter colour remains and weed continues to make it’s way down the river. Twenty-three years ago I saw my first Grayling, an alien species to an angler who did much of his fishing in the pits and meres of Cheshire. I saw the fish with my parents while being interviewed for pre college student work on the Middle Test. The fish was in around six feet of gin clear water, the interview was held in mid May. A Baby Hippopotamus could conceal itself in the same hole today and not be visible to the passing angler, let alone a pound plus Grayling.

Water quality is becoming a real problem for parts of this river, and one that needs to be addressed if the reputation of the fishing is not to be damaged. The “gin clear” water for which the Southern Chalkstreams are famous is a rare thing for some beats which are vulnerable to actions and operations carried out upstream.

Week 68

2009-04-27T16:59:00.000+01:00

Week 68

A fine week of weather, no rain and the temperature in the high teens. The first handful of Swallows have turned up along with a solitary cuckoo. Fly has been hatching from mid morning to mid afternoon with fish up and looking, rejecting a few and taking the odd one. A few dead Grayling have turned up this week, post spawning fish that have finally reached their sell by date. Each fish was between a pound and a half and two pound. The Roach and Rudd in the flight pond that have managed to evade the Cormorant were massing under the shade of the large weeping willow, the Carp have yet to start thrashing around in the roots.

The river had a brown tint to it for much of the week, weed cutting was carried out on a few of the beats above which can result in silt being exposed to the current, or it may be the start of a bloom of brown algae that lifts off the bottom and breaks up as it goes through faster water. I had one day cutting weed, the Ranunculus at the top off this stretch out of the water and on the brink of flowering. Cutting weed this early is often an indicator of a reasonable season to come, although this was not the case last year. I have also finished the bank repairs that I started before our sojourn to Spain; fifteen tons of chalk on the areas of bank that come under the most pressure. On the first three days of the week I managed to get my pick stuck on each day, requiring a pull out by an amiable neighbour or digging the truck out with a spade, on the fourth day I left the pick up at home and got the Tractor stuck instead. If nothing else it shows that the water table is reasonably high in the river valley. The roof has gone onto the new shelter half way up the river and the Fishing hut spring cleaned, we are now set for the start of the new season next week.

A story this week in a National broadsheet highlighted the case of a Swan in the South West who regularly chased some Canada Geese from a corner of a small lake, it was suggested that the Swan might have killed one of the Goslings. The story was accompanied by a quarter page picture and featured in the first ten pages of the normally sensible paper. Has metro sexual man behind his journalistic computer screen in the city become so detached from life in the country that he would consider this news, or has the disneyfication of the countryside blinded those who have recently settled there to the harsh realities of nature.

If this is news, then call up CNN, Sky and the BBC for the daily goings on around here: Day to day gang rape of female Mallards. The incestuous life of rabbits. Cannibalistic Pike who would eat their own mother and bullocks in the field that have been without a woman too long and have to make do! …. And in public at that!

Swan chases goose is a ridiculous piece of news that highlights a worrying trend in the press who are increasingly isolated in an urban environment and seem to believe everything that Rolf Harris and his kind tell them.

Week 67

2009-04-20T09:09:00.000+01:00

Week 67

An unforgettable week on an unforgettable river, the whole valley home, or stopping off place, for an incredible variety of wildlife; Hoopoe, Bee eaters, Montague Harrier, Storks. Purple Heron, Two types of Egret and Swallow, Scops Owl and much more have been performing in the skies or providing a backing track to our fishing. Two species of Snake and Lizard plus Ibex and Lynx in the surrounding mountains share the bank, and then there is the river and its inhabitants. Fine weather and the holding back of cold snow melt at the barrages has instigated fish to feed, peaking when the river has been at its lowest.

Outside our hundred-year-old riverside apartments tucked below the castle walls, the river is fifty to sixty yards wide. A huge backwater where boats are moored provide some comfortable bank fishing. The river varies in depth from six feet to forty feet. On one stretch a few miles upstream where the river is forced through a narrow gorge it is reputed to be approaching a hundred feet deep.

It has a very fishy greenish tinge and once the snowmelt has passed is a good deal warmer than any river in the UK; the high summer temperatures rendering it unsuitable for any population of Salmonids throughout much of it’s length. It is world famous for its population of Wels Catfish; behind the dams at Mequinenza, Caspe and Riba Roja, and further down in the Delta they grow to over two hundred pounds and attract a huge amount of angling interest. Here in Mora a hundred and fifty pound fish is exceptional. The river did not hold a population of Wels Catfish until thirty or forty years ago when they were introduced by German anglers. As a non-native species they are supposed to be killed upon capture, but few are not returned. Pre conceived ideas about these creatures, borne out of previous captures that suggested a primitive animal that chugs around the riverbed, feeding nocturnally on anything that crosses their path, go out of the window on this river. These animals are intelligent, adaptable and opportunistic. From our apartment we have seen them feed on the surface at lunch time, cross the river with their dorsal fins out of the water and charge into reed beds to take ducks settling down for the night. They are one of the few fish that are able to swim backwards when hooked and can be quite choosy about what bait they are likely to take; in evolutionary terms the Cats in this river are only two stages away from sprouting legs and walking out of the water. This week we have caught four: three of around thirty pounds, and one of a hundred and eight pounds, all tempted on strips of Squid and Octopus.

There is some concern that this burgeoning population of Catfish may be having an adverse affect on the native population of Common Carp. These run to sixty pounds, the larger fish again cropping up in the more famous waters behind the barrages. The fish that we have caught this week to just shy of twenty pounds have been in superb condition. Carp living in a river are twice as fit and strong as their lake bound cousins in fitness terms as Sally Gunnel is to Dawn French, and are a superb test of angler and tackle. The stretch that we have fished is heaving with Carp. A greater threat to their numbers than the Wels Catfish are the large numbers of Eastern European workers who are accustomed to killing and eating Carp. Fishing with rods and hand lines with six or seven baited hooks, they are chased up and down the river by the armed River Authorities. We have seen many fish killed of all sizes stowed in the bushes this week, and have been offered money on several occasions for fish that we have caught and are about to return. It is a cultural problem that needs to be addressed if the Fishing on some stretches of this river is to stay as good as it currently is in years to come. Surveys have shown that there is a dearth of smaller Carp in some reaches, their low numbers blamed on the burgeoning number of catfish, the number of smaller fish falling to hand lines and pennel rigs must also be a contributing factor as must the possibility of large flushes of snowmelt washing away eggs during spawning time.

The river is inaccessible to the bank angler for considerable stretches, it would be interesting to see what fish surveys throw up in these wilder stretches, but how you go about electro fishing a river forty foot deep and fifty yards wide is beyond me. The view of the man who walks the bank and floats his boat most days of the year seems to be that there is not too much to be concerned about. There are areas void of smaller fish, and there is evidence of Cats adapting to other food sources. Imbalances are certainly inflicted by man pouring pellets into areas fished by the professional guide, and over harvesting by Eastern European workers. One mid river stretch has been tainted by Mercury from an industrial spillage and like many rivers it seems to be in desperate need of an affective management plan, although the sheer scale and productivity of the river would suggest that it is a reasonably robust environment that would cope with most that man can throw at it.

There are also large numbers of Barbel, Chub and Roach along with Ablet and Bleak that are relatively untouched and unfished for. It has been a unique and memorable fishing experience and one, which we hope to repeat in the coming years.

Week 66

2009-04-13T20:50:00.000+01:00

Week 66

River continues to clear, the weed beginning to wave in the water as it grows a little more each day. The fish in the ponds are feeding more and more each day and the colours on the fish in the river growing ever more vivid as the light reaches further and further below the water’s surface.

Easter week. River, fish, dogs and everything else left in the capable hands of my parents and we are off to Spain for some fishing. Six flew down with hand luggage only courtesy of Ryanair, my wife and I leaving a day early to transport tackle and cases a thousand miles to Catalonia.

Driving through rain and fog for much of the journey, we paused overnight for some interesting sausage and a good nights sleep a few miles from the Millau Viaduct. The highest bridge on earth, it had clouds passing underneath as we crossed this awe inspiring Norman Foster design; I would not have known where to begin if asked to bridge such a span with green oak and nails.

On arrival in Spain the clouds cleared, we met up with the rest of our party and made our way over the mountains to Mora del Ebre. Twenty miles inland from the Ebro delta and a world away from the chips and ice Cream of the Coast Brava, we are housed in a couple of apartments in the heart of the town overlooking the river and fifteen euros has purchased licences to fish the river for Carp and Wels Catfish.

Fishing on the hoof and eschewing the flim-flam of the professional guide we are just “havin a go” The river is high and prone to rise suddenly as upstream barrages release snow melt from the Pyrenees. It is an incredible river valley that is home to a huge variety of wildlife, the locals taking full of advantage of the fertile alluvial to grow oranges, peaches, olives, almonds and much much more.

If we catch, we catch.

If we don’t, it won’t be the first time.

Week 65

2009-04-05T22:21:00.001+01:00

Week 65

It just gets clearer and clearer!

Not some lucid period of middle age enlightenment, but the river. Sparkling in the spring sunshine it is crying out to be fished. No Hawthorn hatch yet, but an increasing trickle of Olives draws the interest of the Trout through the middle of the day. The Grayling, distracted by the rigors of spawning, declining the offer of food. The Carp in the pond have moved into the shallows, their minds affected by lusty thoughts, blind to the Heron who will stab away at their crashing and thrashing amongst the tree roots.

A bit more chalking, and construction of an oak table for the fishing hut to seat four. Very “Arts and Crafts” with a liberal dash of rustic, the table’s a dead cert for the Antiques road show 2080. Also knocked up a small shelter half way up the river. More of a seat with a lid, or advance base camp for those fishing the upper reaches, it will provide shade from the sun, shelter from the rain, and negate the mad dash for the fishing hut when the weather breaks.

Another letter in Trout & Salmon magazine detailing concerns about the National Trout and Grayling strategy. Brief words with a few keepers at the recent invertebrate monitoring course echoed my concerns. For this river, it still doesn’t make sense, it remains an “Airy fairy” do what you can policy that will achieve little and doesn’t do what it says on the tin. Several voiced concerns about the influence of The Wild Trout Lobby and their ability to influence policy over those who have live beside, and managed a particular stretch of river for much of their lives.

This strategy is not a done deal. If ever a river system cried out for a regional policy it is this one. If these post Christmas spawning Brown Trout, that denote a genetically distinct population exist, then lets get out there and take their babies. This river has enough hatcheries and manpower from source to sea, not to mention the leading Fish Farming and Fishery Management College to target this late spawning population of Brown Trout. Strip the fish, hatch out the eggs, first feed the fry, and release back into the river in spring. It mirrors many Salmon stocking policies and in many cases works. We have carried it out on this stretch of river for over a decade, and it works, alongside a sensible stocking policy of takeable sized fish. Under the strategy we will be unable to continue with this stocking policy on account of broodstock selection.

The crux?

Is a fish derived from locally sourced Broodstock and stocked into the river between six and nine months old and survived several years in the river to sexual maturity, inferior to original stock?

He/She may differ slightly in DNA, but I’m damned if I can tell the difference!

Week 64

2009-04-01T07:54:00.000+01:00

Week 64

More fine weather, and the river is starting to sparkle, green green weed, the colours on the Brown Trout intensifying as the water clears, buds breaking on the Weeping Willow, Cherry and Thorn bursting with blossom. The bloody Otter is still about and fishing the river at the moment, It will be necessary in the coming weeks to go through the stew ponds and calculate the bill for his winter feast.

This week I have attended a one day course on Invertebrate moitoring down on the middle river. Run by The RiverFly partnership, The Test and Itchen Association and The Environment Agency the main driving force a Dr Cyril Bennet. Dr Bennet lives and breathes riverine bugs and beetles and has monitored populations of Blue Winged Olive in many parts of the country. His main work on this river carried out at Leckford over a number of years marking a sharp decline in BWO. Entertaining, informative and with good sandwiches, the day instructed keepers on how to take a three minute kick sample and highlighted key species to count from each sample. The results collected monthly and collated by Cyril and the Test & Itchen Association to provide a clear picture of fly populations throughout the river. Few BWO showed up in the samples taken on the day, although as Dr Cyril pointed out it was a little early in the year, the BWO having a complicated phase in its lifecycle when the developing eggs go into a dormant phase, unlike many flies that hatch after a few weeks and bumble about the bottom as nymphs. A key indicator to the health of the river are the numbers of freshwater Shrimp Gammarus Pulex . Turn over a stone on this river and there would be a seething mass of shrimp of all different sizes. Breeding six times a year they are a huge source of food for all river life. A pollutant, insecticide and pesticide even at low level can wipe out the population of shrimp overnight, akin to a miner’s canary they are the first sign of a problem in the river. From now on I will be kicking over a few stones once or twice a week just to make sure that they are all still alive and kicking.

Fisherman’s day at the end of the week, same old merry bunch, come to lunch then walk the river to look at all the fish they missed last year. Trees that I have cut down have made it far too easy they say, until July when it will be “can you take a little bit from that branch please?” Four weeks to the new season although fish are already up on the fin most days.
I have had some bank repairs to do this week with chalk, along with picking up a load of wood from the sawmill for a table outside the fishing hut, and a sheltered seat halfway up the beat. The small fish in the hatchery are looking nice and chubby although I will hold on a little before getting them out on the river water.

Week 63

2009-04-01T07:52:00.000+01:00

Week 63

A prolonged period of dry weather with daytime temperatures slowly on the rise and the briefest of frosts first thing in the morning. The river has continued to clear weed is growing well, one particular parch of ranunculus on the top shallows that was cut back in October now at the water’s surface, the luxuriant growth unhindered by grazing Swans this year. A short stretch of the main river not half a mile from here has been hammered by Swans since Christmas, clear baron gravel replacing yards and yards of ranunculus beds by over thirty grazing Swans. The fish in the river look to be in tip top condition, feeding gently on the surface in the middle of the day. A few Pike have shown up, mainly small Jacks but also a couple of larger females. All dabbed up with Pike pomade to draw as many males as possible to spawn in the spring ditches.

My son and some friends were lucky enough to be asked to fish for Pike further on down the middle river, having some success on a glorious afternoon, they knew that if they started to pick up a few Jacks in the same spot more often than not there would be a big Female in the vicinity. The biggest they had was just over sixteen pounds, although twenty pound fish are not unusual in the lower half of the river, and thirty pounders do exist. The middle to lower river suffered terribly last season. The annual Test & Itchen Association report reflecting this. Look beyond the flim flam of the jack the lad fishing salesmen who now inhabit much of this valley, and it is apparent that many keepers have grave concerns about water quality and clarity during the fishing season.

A declining Grayling population on the main river is also of some concern. It has been heartening to see big numbers of Grayling kicking up on the shallows over the past week. Fat females and dark males backs occasionally breaking the water as they chase around on the shallows, a ford that I regularly cross in tractor and truck has had up to a dozen Grayling wriggling around, oblivious to oncoming traffic it is almost necessary for me to toot the horn to shift them from the gravels. They are particularly vulnerable to Heron and Egret on the shallows, some have stab marks some have a touch of fungus on their nose over the next few weeks some of the bigger and older fish will die, the rigors of spawning proving too much. Year classes in Grayling population are relatively easily identified by size. One of our regular Grayling fisherman with a particular talent for measuring and graphs, has monitored the population here for some time. All year classes are present in numbers which is encouraging and is not the case on stretches of the main river.
Along with the Grayling many other animals have become dumbstruck by impending Spring. Hares are going crackers in the field behind, while Cock Pheasants scrap in the middle of the road holding up the traffic. A few female Mallard are on eggs, the boys reformed into gangs before another bout of rape and pillage on the water. The Jackdaws are hoarding all sorts of odd things in their “chez nook” in the big ash tree and all the damn Doves do all day is coo and dance on the roof above our bedroom; the dance of love kicking off at first light.

Week 62

2009-03-17T22:58:00.000Z

Week 62

Another fine week and spring has definitely sprung. Daffodils out, tulips up and fish up on the surface and looking for food. A regular and accomplished Grayling Fisherman filling his boots late in the week with fat fish on a dry fly in the middle of the day. The river continues to clear, revealing abundant weed growth and sparkly gravel. Most mornings we have had slight frosts, dissipating with the rising sun to a flag-cracking day, the warmth in the sun putting a skip in the step of most in the parish. Hares have gone bonkers in the field behind, skitting around and squaring up. Cock Pheasants, assured by the click of a closing gun cabinet fight in the road for the plainest hen, oblivious to oncoming traffic. A couple of fine roe bucks parade regularly, with magnificent trophy heads, while passing migrants add to the exotic mix of fauna in the valley. This time last year, the Osprey turned up. No sign of him this year, although the Otter continues to pester.

One sure sign of the end of winter is the arrival in the skies overhead of The Blue Baron of Popham. An acrobatic blue bi-plane, occasionally accompanied by his sidekick in a scarlet equivalent - Red Rita; looping the loop and dicing with danger they practice their performance in the sky. Now and again engines stall; intentionally or not, I do not know. The failing engine drawing eyes to the sky, and fingers to be crossed.

Aerial action is a feature of the river valley. The Army Air Corps learn their stuff at Middle Wallop; the Chinooks come from Odium to train hereabouts. Each year there is an air show at Middle Wallop preceded by several weeks of practice. All seem to use the river as a means of navigation. Ten years or more ago, posters proclaimed the “last fly past of the Scout helicopter” a defunct machine that was deservedly put into retirement. The last flight of The Scout went on for months in this valley as wave upon wave came over the hill in preparation for their final hurrah.

A lot of army owned training ground surrounds this stretch of river. Occasionally we fall asleep to the sound of machine gun fire, and it is not unusual to find spent flash flares on the bed of the river. Chinooks regularly dangle swaying Landrovers and large boxes over our heads accompanied by distant “kabooms” from nearby Salisbury Plain. The first British Apache helicopter was hesitantly tested over the river along with a brief experiment into the world of airships. The sun bleached dirigible flying past on the slightest wind, and then struggling to make its way home into the wing. Hedge hopping Hercules have frightened the living daylights out of me, and cocky Chinook pilots on a shooting day have cleared a drive of Partridge.
A friend of my employer who lived in a nearby village and was a Helicopter pilot occasionally plopped his helicopter into the water meadows if the nearby airfield was fully booked. On one occasion he took me up and allowed me to wiggle the Cyclic. I asked him how he knew where everyone else was, half expecting there to be some computerised air traffic control system. “Oh you just have to keep a look out” came the reply. I handed over control and requested a return to earth

Week 61

2009-03-09T22:19:00.000Z

Week 61

Mild and warm weather for much of the week, with the river clearing and fish showing through the middle of the day. No sign of any friskiness amongst the Grayling as yet, the midday sunshine getting the Carp in the pond up to the surface and looking for food. There are signs that the Roach in the river and the pond have taken a real hammering from the cormorants over the past few months, for much of the winter they formed into large shoals and moved up and down the deeper stretches of the river, With little winter cover in the pond they were easy prey, Cloudy water offered some protection along with a fallen tree in one corner, but after five years of a burgeoning population their numbers have now been decimated.

All sorts are on the move at the moment, Ducks paired up, flitting from ditch to ditch, courting and house hunting. Several days this week we have been inundated by pairs of Swans looking for somewhere to “make out” The elderly grumpy pair that have taken up summer residence on the pond for so many years have passed on. The Cob a super alpha male would give incomers short shrift at this time of year. This year it is down to me and the dogs to keep the Swans on the move; the sight of a very wobbly spaniel and a Labrador crowned fattest bottom in show, enough to lift the most settled of Swans from the water. The cock pheasants that remain are up in arms with each other, three times this week I have come across a pair arguing in the middle of the road, neither giving ground, oblivious to human and canine presence taking in their handbags at ten paces.

This time last year the Osprey turned up, no sign of him yet, although I did catch sight of an ermine stoat, not completely white but not far off it. Pike are on the move, there are several long spring ditches in the meadow above us that are a haven for lust fuelled Pike, a fish of five pounds sat mid stream in front of the house for two mornings this week.

The springs continue to rise, a good sign for the first half of the season, and after one day of gales, no trees came down, a sure sign that the winds of twelve months ago cleared out a lot of trees that were about to go. Buds are swelling on the Willows, Hazel and Thorns and Daffodils are out. Ramsens and Bluebells poke their noses through to continue the succession.

I am still chopping willows down from the non-fishing bank and have taken delivery of several tonnes of chalk for bank repairs. The fish in the hatchery continue to thrive; the fish in the stew ponds continue to be threatened by Otters. Sometime in the next few weeks it will be necessary to take stock of the actual damage inflicted by our visitors granted environmental immunity.
The fishing season rushes towards us, invitations for rod renewal have been posted and the fishing lunch date fixed. There is a lot of work to be completed in the next few weeks , fingers crossed for the weather.

Week 60

2009-03-02T18:09:00.000Z

Week 60

River at a good height with spring ditches running strongly, just about what we would expect at this time of the year. The week has been entirely frost-free, the grass is greening up and there has been a hatch of fly during early afternoon that has drawn the attention of both Trout and Grayling.

Most of the week has been spent cutting back Willows and Alders on the non-fishing bank. Allowing more light to get into the river and removing any Willows that look like they may drop down into the river when in full leaf.

There are many Ducks on the river now, paired up and starting to feel frisky with the warmer temperatures. Swans are trying to stake a claim to certain bends, several look a little thin, and one dead one turned up on the river this week. Pigeons are still massing, moving from the rolled game covers on our patch to the freshly drilled fields on the other side of the valley. The otter is still about, the addition of an electric fence around the stew ponds persuading him/her to dine up at our Local Put and take Trout fishery, where it has been spotted on several occasions.

Disappointingly I have received no response to any of my letters concerning the Implementation of The National Trout and Grayling Strategy. Conspiracy theorists would suggest that there is a policy of not acknowledging any dissenters, others that these are the words of a crank. Whichever, I remain deeply concerned, initially about the many obvious flaws of throwing your whole hat in with Triploids, but also at the suspicion that the strategy team is happy that the Triploid policy is a flawed one. With compliance by 2015 everyone will be forced into stocking Triploids, only for a European Directive to be issued a short while later banning their use. With no fish available to stock, the EA and the Strategy team - heavily influenced by the Wild Trout lobby will have achieved the goal that they have always denied seeking: A total ban on stocking Brown Trout into rivers. Couple this with a directive on the introduction of non indigenous species ruling out Rainbow Trout, and a push by Conservation groups to stop man’s influence and return the valley to its state just after the dinosaurs popped their clogs and no job for me and other keepers, and an end to fishing as we currently know it in this valley. The strategy team and the Wild Trout Lobby would issue reassuring statements about how a population of the original Brown Trout will spectacularly resurrect and there will be enough fish for all. This resurrection will need to be spectacular to support the many businesses up and down the valley that rely on, and support the influx of fishermen each season. Hotels, Shops, Restaurants, the earnest Wild Trout bunch are more comfortable with a flask and sandwiches than taking lunch at the local pub or finishing off the day in a nearby Restaurant. All will be affected.

This river is what it is, because man has managed it for hundreds of years. Trials were carried out recently on a neighbouring chalkstream where a Wildlife Trust allowed a stretch to remain unmanaged for a number of years, the experiment was a disaster and the stretch is now back under the umbrella of a fishery management programme.
In the past hundred or so years the Test and the Itchen have been at the hub of the development of fishery management, fish farming and fly-fishing techniques. Both rivers have hatcheries and stew ponds in use and mothballed throughout their length. An internationally renowned Fishery Management and Fish Farming College lies between the two valleys. With this concentration of Fishery Management activity, wouldn’t it make a lot of sense to take eggs from a Wild fish population where it can be identified, hatch them out in hatcheries up and down the rivers to be stocked undersize the following summer. Support the keepers with legislation on efficient predator control and allow them to manage the river in a manner that best suits these juvenile fish. It is an exact copy of the much-vaunted Salmon restocking programmes on many rivers. It would require a great deal of coordination, especially during January targeting the late spawning fish that are supposedly a characteristic of a Wild strain of Brown Trout. I would gladly give it a go for the next few years, and would reduce the number of takeable size fish stocked each year. It could work, the main problem, as has always been the case, identifying a population of fish to take the eggs from. I don’t see these late January spawning fish; I do see an intense period of activity throughout November by fish that the Strategy would have us believe are stockies. The strategy would have us believe that the number of progeny that go on to sexual maturity from these November spawners is insignificant, yet on the two occasions that The EA have surveyed this stretch of river, significant numbers of juvenile Brown Trout have been identified. These successful November spawning fish are fish that we have stocked undersize and have grown up in the river. This stocking policy will not be allowed after compliance in 2015.

Week 59

2009-02-23T12:48:00.000Z

Week 59

Little rain this week, and much warmer. The river has cleared a little each day while maintaining a good level. Driving children to various parts of the County for various football, cricket or social events it is clear that many of the spring fed streams that dry up through the summer are currently running very well. It is incredible how these streams whose beds are grassed over through the summer can, within a few weeks, turn into a stream alive with aquatic flora and fauna. It is this groundwater and spring flow that makes the Chalk streams so special, gin clear water full of food that supports big fat Trout! The warmer weather has instigated a hatch of fly around midday, The Grayling taking fly from the surface for a final feed before preparing to spawn.

The trout and fish in general have come in for a bit of a hammering this week. An Otter persists with its attempts to get at the fish in the stew ponds, a half tame Egret stabs away in the streams through the garden, while a pair of Heron do the same on the river. Six Cormorants circled the flight pond preparing to pitch in and feast on the Roach and Rudd, while half term guests at the neighbouring holiday cottage tempt the Trout with Kingsmill and Hovis.

We are inundated with pigeons; there are several hundred acres of Rape on one side of the valley that is proving a pigeon magnet. The estate have put a gas gun up there this week that keeps them on the move, numbers of them dropping onto our rolled maize for a snack. Last weekend my employer’s son shot over fifty in a couple of hours in a morning, keepers on the downstream estate filling their boots at the same time.

The tinning in the river is progressing well. I have also started work on some of the Willows on the non-fishing bank that have become a little too intrusive. Some of them needed doing last winter but I was unable to get at them because of the weeks spent cutting up trees that had fallen over in the wind. Some of the Willows while a challenging cast for the angler have started to limit the amount of light getting onto the water and subsequently the weed. More light, more weed, more food. The fringe also suffers when a Tree leans over a little too far; with thinner marginal growth the shaded stretch of bank is open to erosion. It will take a few weeks to get it all done and no doubt a favourite spot of some angler will be irrevocably changed, but the work should pay dividends in seasons to come.

Some areas of bank that come in for heavy use such as at the end of bridges and around the fishing hut are also in need of some care and attention. I have ordered several tonnes of chalk for this purpose. The last time I had some chalk delivered the driver inadvertently tipped it on the end of the much-vaunted Iron age defence ditch. The English Heritage Spy Satellite picking the misdemeanour up within days instigating some frenzied shovelling on my part.

Week 58

2009-02-23T12:40:00.000Z

Week 58

Snow melt and heavy rain brought the river bank high for the first time this year, which is just what it needs at this time of the year. The terminal hatch on the millstream having to be cranked open a few notches to release the excess water. The hatch is cast Iron and nearly two hundred years old. In my time here I have come close on only one occasion to having it fully open for several weeks to release spare water. This was during the heavy flooding around seven or eight winters ago. The fishing hut was surrounded by water, the island at the bottom of the garden submerged, as were two of the wooden bridges. The Mill house, with walls built directly onto gravel was never in danger of flooding, the house sitting on a small raised plateaux, the water coming only half way up the lawn. A house built several hundred years ago directly onto a flood plain that doesn’t flood even under what is sexily termed a “one in a hundred years event” An incredible amount of thought had gone into the siting of the house and the calculations for the size of hatch needed to control the water level was spot on.

The tinning in the river is going well, the extra water making the job much easier and quicker. Green shoots of weed are showing, ranunculus in particular responds well to increased winter flows, and it appears that it will be necessary to cut weed in late April. The fry in the hatchery are feeding well, after last years success I have given up the automatic feeder and am hand feeding whenever I can. The fish are now around two centimetres long and take around twenty minutes to clean in the morning.

With the woodshed emptying fast, I have spent most of the week picking up and chopping up all of the wood from the tress that came down this time last year and had stacked by the river. It is not completely dry but will keep my employer’s house and my house going until middle of next winter.
The Iron Age defence ditch that we use as or main drive on a shooting day is to be clear felled, with only the ancient yew trees and a few large ash remaining. The decision has been taken by English Heritage who administer the site and the work will be undertaken in the summer. It will cause disruption to the shoot, although we will still have a strip of gamecover alongside the ditch. The plan is to make the site more accessible to the public and show that there is an Iron Age defence ditch in the village. A lot of wildlife inhabit and use the ditch and its environs. It remains to be seen what effect clear felling will have on them.

Week 57

2009-02-05T20:34:00.010Z

Week 57

A week of snow, proper snow, and just what you would expect in early February. Schools closed for three days of the week, fifty plus kids chucking snow at each other on the recreation ground, abundant opportunities to sledge and slide and a hard time for the creatures of the parish. Our bird feeders in the garden are emptying at an incredible rate. The feeders in the wood are hammered by all and sundry, while the flattened Maize is a hive of activity. It is a hard time for flora and fauna but all will feel the benefit of “proper winter conditions in winter time” later in the year.

The highlight of the week? The midweek presentation by the leader of The National Trout and Grayling Strategy group at Sparsholt College. After getting lost in a college that I attended over twenty years ago and is now unrecognisable having tripled in size I eventually found my way to a free glass of wine and a sixty minute PowerPoint presentation, stating “The Facts” behind the proposed Brown Trout stocking policy. As well as a few humble keepers and riparian owners there was a sprinkling of Sparsholt students, and some particularly “Big Noises” from the Environment Agency and Institute of Fishery Management. The letter that I will be posting to various attendees follows:

Thank you for your kind invitation to attend the IFM meeting on the 4th February to hear Dr Shields explain the Scientific thinking on which future Brown Trout Stocking Policy is to be decided. PI recently attended a meeting of the Southern branch of the IFM where Dr Brian Shields was to explain “The Facts” behind the Trout & Grayling strategy. I attended with an open mind but am sorry to say that I remain unconvinced that it is the best way forward for the stretch of river that I am responsible for. The EA require full compliance by 2015 when all Brown Trout stocked must be triploid, or diploid raised under a “suitable” rearing scheme from a distinct indigenous stock, the second option having more merit than the first, although it was intimated that this was not to be encouraged.

During the presentation, a spokesman for the Wild Trout lobby stated that a twelve mile stretch of the middle Test had been stocked with triploids for some years, Inexplicably, no investigation into the impact of this stocking policy on fish populations in that stretch of river has been carried out.

I am not anti triploid and recognise that in some situations there is merit to them being used, but concerns remain about the public perception of a National Strategy that hangs its hat on the use of an engineered fish that has been banned in Germany on grounds of its GM status, and flies in the face of current thinking on animal production, where all things organic and natural are king.

Concerns were also raised that the Strategy had deflected from real issues of concern in the Test Valley, namely the decline in the Grayling population in the middle river, deterioration in water quality, rampant avian predation and a drop off in some habitat management practices.

Brief mention was made of a recent three-year study by The Game Conservancy on forty-eight sites on seven rivers that concluded:

“There was no statistically significant drop in abundance, biomass or growth of wild Brown Trout in upland and lowland rivers when stocking took place.”

“Stocking did not cause displacement of wild Brown Trout in upland and lowland rivers.”

Studies in America have produced similar results with wild populations of Rainbow Trout in Oregon alongside a prolonged history of stocking with hatchery reared Rainbows. As have studies by The Danish Institute for Fisheries research that found that genetic introgression by hatchery trout had occurred in only two of the five wild fish populations studied.

Scientific study backs up both sides of the debate, plus the bit in the middle, and around the edge. Proof positive that, what is the best strategy for one river and it’s population of fish, may not be the best strategy for another. Regional policies would far better serve the Brown Trout of these Isles, than the National Strategy that the EA is currently ramming home and hopes to have in place by 2015.

Several people at the presentation raised the question of how an under funded and overstretched EA hope to enforce this National Strategy, For compliance to be achieved by 2015 the EA needs the cooperation of people managing the fisheries to make the strategy work, everyone has to believe that it is the way forward and buy into the strategy. For the stretch of river that I am responsible for, much of the current strategy is akin to a crackpot expedition to hunt Yeti and Unicorn.

Show me the Yeti, and not just a few indistinct footprints in the snow and I may buy in. lease pass on my thanks to Dr Shields for braving the weather to give us an informative presentation.

Week 56

2009-02-05T19:26:00.001Z

Week 56

Beaters shoot at the start of the week, good fun day although a few regulars unavoidably absent. Shooting of mixed quality. On the first drive I ran down the water meadow upstream of us in an attempt to put some Canada Geese over the guns. The Geese got up, flew out the side of the drive and settled on a nearby lake, a little further on down the meadow several Snipe flushed from a flash and skittered out the other side of the drive. A couple of dozen Mallard rose from the river zoomed into the stratosphere way too high for the guns and shortly afterwards a Woodcock doubled back away from the line. It would have made for a fantastic ten-minute walked up drive, along with the Pheasant and Partridge, six species in one short drive.
In the last drive of the day another flush of Ducks, a friend dropping one straight into next-door’s garden. A weekend/holiday let cottage, the factotum who lives in the garage???? was in the garden and a little stunned when a dead duck dropped from the heavens to his feet. I retrieved the stone dead Duck and apologised. Previous incumbents of the cottage, a friendly family with children the same age as my own and a lady who lived there for thirty years would not have batted an eyelid, but having already received a solicitor’s letter from the current owners over some perfectly legal weedcutting I anticipate a letter from a legal representative of the owners, or the Duck.
Otis improves with every day shooting, on this day? three retrieves, a pigeon from the pond, and a Pheasant and a Moorhen from the final few drives. The end bag wasn’t huge but varied, with Pheasant, Partridge, Pigeon, Mallard and Moorhen, a hugely happy day finished off with a Bacchanalian lunch around my employer’s dining table, capped by a brief visit from the local Constabulary who were no doubt summoned to investigate the suspicious death of a Duck.

The weather this week has been wet, the river is at a good level and getting a thorough flush through. The fish in the hatchery are feeding hard now, last season I hand fed the fish throughout the hatchery stage, as opposed to using an automatic clockwork feeder and was surprised at the results. Far less food was wasted and growth rates seemed to be greater. Currently I hand feed the one and a half centimetre fry four times during the day, and spend twenty minutes each morning cleaning the tank out with a siphon tube.

I have now rolled all of the maize in the gamecover, what Pheasants that remain are feeding on it along with a few hundred pigeons that hit it hard most mornings. The forecast for next week is for snow and a cold snap so the one and a half acre strip will become a magnet for many hungry species.
This week we have booked a spring fishing trip to the river Ebro in Spain, Carp and Catfish fishing on a huge river with huge fish, no guides or packages, just dropping in on the place to “have a go” The logistics of getting us all down there with all of our tackle will take a while to sort out but will hopefully be worth it. Some sacrifices may have to be made by the girls on the clothes front if all that we need for fishing is to be transported.

Week 55

2009-01-26T21:44:00.000Z

Week 55

A wet and windy week, Gales at the start although no tree damage to speak off, the river rose a few inches and coloured up considerably. We now have “spare water that I can send down the millstream by opening the hatch by the mill house a notch at a time. The current Cast Iron hatch and winding gear was installed in the mid nineteenth century by an Andover company and still works perfectly. Along with a set of manually inserted boards in a hatch at the top of the millstream it allows water to be diverted down the main river or the millstream. It is possible to completely drain the millstream, or reduce the river to a series of still pools depending upon how you have the boards. A good sign at this time of the year is to have to open the hatch by the millstream by one or two notches a week. This indicates that the rain we have had has been steady and a lot of it has got down through the soil to the aquifer. Heavy rain and fast run off and the hatch is opened half a dozen notches and closed by as many a day or two later as the rain runs off straight into the river. At the moment the river is about where I would expect for this time of the year.
With perfect weather conditions we had another crack at the Ducks, but the numbers were disappointing. The pond was frozen for a week, and many may have found other places to feed and overnight. We did see a few Teal that dropped like bombs onto the pond, but most Mallard were paired up. Otis retrieved his first Duck in the dark, a challenging drake Mallard that had become trapped in the stopper wave of a small weir. Zebo and I were most impressed although Otis appeared a little nonplussed.
I have held off starting the tinning this week because of the rise in water and will look to start next week. The fencing around the stew ponds is now complete bar a couple of doors and grills. I may also stretch some wires over the top of the whole area to further deter Herons and Cormorants.
Twice this week while driving up the road I have disturbed the Merlin who visits this parish every winter. Flushing him from the ground or low in the hedge he hugs the road in a dipping flight ten yards in front of the truck for a short while before veering off through a gap in the hedge, sometimes it seems that he is waiting for a car to race to demonstrate his flying prowess.
Next week we have our last shoot of the season, the morning routine will change, no more treks up to the two game cover strips. The Maize still has many cobs on so I will roll the whole lot flat to feed the remaining pheasants and also provide some pigeon shooting through February, all of the outlying pheasant feeders will be brought down into the wood to encourage a few hens to hang around and lay.
I have often wondered why cows in a field, sheep on a hill, deer in a wood will take the same indiscriminate path across an open space; A daily plod from A to B declining to take a straight route but meandering like a slow moving river. At this time of the year with the grass dormant and frosts rampant I can see that I do precisely the same. Crossing an open paddock on my morning feed round taking the same wandering path from one side to the other when a straight line would have saved a few steps and seconds, subconsciously content in the route that I know.

Week 54

2009-01-19T19:48:00.000Z

Week 54

The weather warmed up this week, a difference of twenty degrees from last weeks nighttime low of minus twelve to a daytime highest temperature this week of plus eight. We have also had several welcome spells of prolonged rain, colouring the river up and lifting it a few inches. On the warmer days there was a hatch of fly early in the afternoon, mostly small stuff with the odd Olive, but enough to get some of the Grayling feeding on the surface. The odd Brown Trout in the river is showing signs of fungal infection, although the fish in the stew ponds are clear. The fish in the hatchery are feeding well now; losses to gas bubble diseased caused by a dearth of dissolved oxygen in the spring water have been minimal this year.
I have moved the fry from the hatching trough into a much bigger eight foot by four-foot tank. It is easier to keep clean and the fish have plenty of room so don’t pick up fin deformities early in their life. If you want nice natural looking stockfish then space, low stocking densities and good water flow are key. I t may make less economic sense to put fewer fish in a pond to grow on but it is really a choice between quality and quantity.
Several years ago an artist friend of my employer came for the day to take some photographs of Trout for reference with an underwater camera. We got several freshly killed fish from a variety of sources and spent a morning sewing fine fishing line into parts of their body so that they could be held like puppets in a particular pose underwater. The toned and firm muscled fish that had spent much of its life in fast flowing water with only a few friends for company struck any pose you threw at him. The flaccid fleshed fish from a densely stocked pond struggled to hold any pose at all no matter how many strings were pulled.

We have more and more Little Egrets in the area at the moment, along with the Geese that have turned up in the meadow upstream from us. We also have a huge number of Pigeons on the fields around us with the farm putting out several gas guns to boom away and keep them on the move. A Peregrine is also in the area, his presence possibly having something to do with the high density of pigeons. Several years ago a friend of mine was pigeon shooting near the top game cover and had already shot a few, that he subsequently arranged as decoys held with wings out four feet from the ground on long bouncy sticks. A few minutes later looking to the sky for his next shot he could see a small dot growing bigger at a remarkable rate. Hurtling towards him at an incredible speed a young Peregrine was stooping on one of the dead pigeons he had just placed out as a decoy. The Peregrine hitting the Pigeon Decoy at a million miles an hour, taking it onto the ground in a cloud off feathers before taking off with the decoy.

An invitation fell through the door this week, to attend an Institute of Fishery Management meeting where we are to be told “The Facts” about the stocking policy for Brown Trout. Many keepers I have spoken to are going, a very big noise is coming to relay these facts and explain the science on which these strategies have been determined.

This week my son turned fourteen. He wanted his own fly rod having shown interest in it for the first time this past season. He and his mate are keen coarse fishermen and had already been having a go at fly-fishing for Carp. For the river here an eight-foot rod with a four-weight line is ideal, with the emphasis on presentation rather than powerful casting. Several qualified instructors I know have recommended starting juniors on bigger rods with a seven-weight line, although I am in two minds. Powerful casting on this little river can often have an adverse effect, presentation rather than distance is key and the cast must show a little more refinement and settle on the water with the minimum of fuss. Fishing on bigger rivers and lakes requires the angler to feed in the power and go for distance. To use a cricketing analogy, a boy who uses a lighter blade is more able to develop his range of strokes and can then add power to these strokes as he gets bigger and develops and is able to use a bigger and heavier bat.
The Friendly local Trout Fishery up the road kindly agreed to allow my son and his mate to try their new rods on the lakes, living the “Dever Dream” they managed to haul out a nice looking Rainbow of Five pounds on a very sparkly fly with plenty of bling. The wind got up so we all came back aqnd shot a couple of brace of Duck before a Howling gale and heavy rain bought the day to an end.