In the lands of the North

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

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

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

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)

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

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

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.