Week 77

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.