ANGLING

Southland Times, Issue 19395, 8 November 1924, Page 14 (Supplement)

ANGLING

(By

“Creel.”)

The deacon had bad luck on his fishing trip, and on his way home he stopped at the fish dealers and gave this order: “Jim, just stand over there and throw me five of the biggest trout you have.”

“Throw ’em!” ejaculated the amazed dealer. “What for?”

“So I can tell the family I caught them,” replied the deacon. “I may be a mug fisherman, but I’m no liar.”

A cold easterly gale on Saturday afternoon made conditions very disagreeable for anglers with the big heart to tackle our local rivers. Nor was their reward commensurate with the discomfort endured, a few odd fish only being recorded as victims to the lure patiently cast by several rods. Op Sunday the atmospheric conditions were warmer, but it was one of those days easily classified as an “off” day. Far away fields generally look so nice and green, and far away waters often tempt the enthusiastic angler to make long journeys in the pursuit of that fascinating thrill he experiences when fast to a good fighting fish. But, alas, as far as can be ascertained, the thrills were mostly conspicuous by their absence, and a good number of anglers brought home very light bags. Unfortunately, in our part of the world, we are not in the happy position the deacon apparently enjoyed on his return from his “dud” fishing trip. So one hn3 just got to tell the truth and admit to the wife and enquiring offspring, that “you just didn’t get ’em, but, never mind, next time.” And there the optimistic mind of the genuine angler is displayed. He just keeps plugging away, and will (like Gran’father’s simple faith expressed in Dickens’ “Old Curiosity Shop”) “come again to-iuorrow.” The Makarewa river was very clear, al though carrying a fair amount of water, and fish were very shy on this stream. Most anglers were rewarded with two or three fish only, and, alas, some drew a blank. 'The weed in the upper reaches shows some considerable growth, and it is only a matter of a week or two when fly-fishing will be a hazardous proceeding on this particular section of the river. In conversation with an ardent Dunedin angler, Mr O. Owles (a brother of the late Geo. Owles, of Rugby fame), he informed me that recently he had enjoyed some good fishing on the Opihi river, his bag including some nice trout up to 4| lbs weight. In the early part of the season this river was in a state of flood for quite a while, and very little fishing was obtainable. The foUowing extract is taken from the Field:—

Last Wednesday the Wyndham anglers held their second competition, it taking the form of a half-day on the Mimihau Rier with bare fly only. The river was in splendid condition for fishing, with the result that seven fishermen weighed in, with a total of 128 fish, weighing 881 b 2oz. The winning bag consisted of 29 well-conditioned speckled beauties. The following is the result:— James MHillar (Oware), 29 fish, weighing 161 b (handicap 50 per cent.), 241 b, 1. Allan Udy (Wyndham), 26 fish, 191 b 9oz (scr.), 2. David Caldwell (Wyndham), 22 fish, 171 b 7oz (10 per cent.), 191 b 3oz, 3. The other bags weighed in were: Jos. Hayes (Wyndham), 13 fish, 111 b 4oz (10 per cent.), 121 b 6oz; John Young (Wyndham) 18 fish, 131 b loz (30 per cent.), 171 b; Janies Gregory (South Wyndham) 13 fish, 81b loz (20 per cent), 91b llozs; Thomas Mcßride (Ridges), 7 fish, 21b 12oz (50 per cent.), 41b 4oz.

“ ‘Linseed meal and boiling water,’ was her next order, and in the same deft manner a tremendous steaming poultice was quickly made ready to give the blissfully unconscious man a warm quarter of an hour. Armed with these, the good lady triumphantly mounted the stairs, and stalked into No. 3 room, where the unfortunate victim had sunk into a peaceful sleep, and was sweetly dreaming of anything but that huge mustard plaster and terrible poultice, which hung, figuratively speaking, like the sword of Damocles, over his head. In the twinkling of an eye his shirt-neck was torn open, the plaster clapped on between the sholder blades, and before he was more than half-awake, he was rolled over, and the scalding-hot poultice pressed with a loving but firm hand well on his chest. Then was the peaceful night air rent with shrieks and yells, intermingled with fragments of the Athanasian Creed as big as half a brick, as the wretched man, in throes of agony, writhed and twisted and attempted to tear away the burning torture. But the good lady stood calm and determined through it afl. She knew best what was good for him, and she kept that poultice to its place with touching devotion. The screams of the suffering man filled the inn; for the plaster stuck closer than a brother, and drew hard enough to cure a smoky chimney, while the poultice inspired a burning passion in his bosom he had never known before. NaturaUy thinking that some poor hapless creature was being done to death, the other inmates of the inn rushed to the scene of action and burst en masse into the room. The good woman turned round smiling to explain, and the very first figure she caught sight of was her husband, with a blanket round him, staring at her as if he had gone mad. Then Mrs A. gave a piercing shriek, as the true state of affairs was forced upon her, and, strong, determined woman as she was, fell swooning on the floor. She had mistaken No. 5 room for No. 3, and had poulticed the curate, who had come down as locum tenens to take the Christmas service at the village church. “THE OPPORTUNE MOMENT” The foUowing is taken from The Field:— August as usual brought enervation to the river. By 11 o’clock the Torridge was subjected to a steady and relentless glare lasting far i~to the afternoon; in several places one could cross the river dry-foot. The gauge at the bridge, which in spring ji. generaUy submerged in a green racing torrent, now showed a depth of barely six inches. The swarms of fly we*e allowed to descend on the water unheeded, save by the small fry, whose gambles alone bade defiance to the heat. The larger trout lay up under stones in the protecting shade of overhanging trees, >?r else descended into deeper water, there to remain the whole day in a state of blissful coma. The vigorous, fresh-run salmon, brought up by the preceding flood, were now isolated, stranded in deep, and stagnant pools, their vitality lost, their silver sheen changed to a red and kipperish hue which is the mark of bad condition.

Such on August Ist were the conditions on the Torridge, and as a consequence the tennis-court proved more popular than the river. The first break in the still heat came one day at about lunch-time, a westerly breeze getting up, strong enough to make a ripple on the water. Knowing from past experience that August breezes are shortlived, I departed in haste, leaving my lunch deserted. Perhaps the greatest advantage in knowing your river intimately is that you can reach the best spot without spending unprofitable time in fishing water unsuited to the conditions. To a person acquainted with my part of the Torridge a westerly breeze comes as a godsend, for it means that there will be a ripple on the weir-pool. The weir pool is full of good trout, but the fact that on nine days out of ten it is as still as a mill-pond means that it is seldom possible to fish. On this occasion I had an unobstructed view to the end of the pool, and I could see that trout were rising freely aU along the fringe of trees on the opposite bank. I hooked a trout almost immediately, and while I was play'ag him another threw himself hungrily on my dropper. Fortunately they were both well hooked, for I could not afford to waste time ,and I had them both landed in under three minutes. Meanwhile my fears were being justified, for the breeze was visibly dying down, though the rise was still waxing fast and furious. The fish were mostly rising under the shade of the branches on the other side, and it was exceedingly difficult to put a fly over them without getting caught up. I had only caught two more before an incautious cast entangled my flies in some overhanging foliage. By the time I had unraveled the cast and was again rw.dy to fish, the breeze had disappeared—and with it the rise. Thus was a golden opportunity missed, and four fish had perforce to represent what might have been a record half-hour’s catch.

“Gentlemen,” remarked the Oracle, ’let me tell you a little story. An ardent angler had gone for a day’s sport, on the 24th December, to a lake some twenty miles from his home. It was a clear, frosty day ,and the pike were well on the bite. In the afternoon he hooked a big ’un; and, not being a strong man, it pulled him overhead into the water. Leaving pike and tackle to their fate, he scrambled out as best he could, and hurried off to the village inn, with his clothes and boots full of water, and his mouth overflowing with profanity. Being subject to pneumonia, he considered it unwise to travel home that day. Instead, he engaged a room at the inn, got out of hia wet things, and jumped into bed, with a basin of gruel by his side, after first writing to his wife to inform her of the circumstances, and beg of her not to make herself uneasy on his account. He would be all right and home again the foUowing day. But his wife knew better. Her duty was at her husband’s side. Throwing on net thingn. she flung a few necessaries into a bag, and caught the last train to the station nearest the village, arriving at the inn just before closing time. Without wasting any unnecessary time she found her way by instinct straight into the kitchen. “ ‘Mr A. staying here?’ she inquired. “ Yes, mum. No. 3 room, just at the top of the stairs.’ “ ‘Brown paper, mustard, and vinegar,’ was her first command; and these being brought, she roUed up her sleeves and set to work to prepare a generous mustard plaster. ANGLING IN THE HOMELAND MR SMITH’S EXPERIENCES. While on a motor tour through England and Scotland recently, Mr J. W. Smith, of Invercargill, was able to do a little fishing, but the rivers were not so good, he declares, as those of Southland, while the fish were not nearly so large. “For instance,” said Mr Smith, when recounting his experiences to a Times reporter yesterday, “if an angler landed a fish from a ilb to Gibs in weight he was considered to be extremely lucky, and to enjoy these privileges he was compelled to pay a fabulous price for the right to fish a smaU strip of a particular stream, ranging from £lOO to £3OO in some cases, to as much as several thousands in others. In the latter case of course the angler and his friends would have the use of a beautiful home and also the right to the grouse and other game shooting available on the property. Be that as it may, you can see how fortunate we are in this country and the only criticism that I would deign to offer is that the authorities concerned should liberate ten times as much fry in our streams as they do at the present time. If that is done the supply of fish will be maintained and excellent sport will always be available. The scarcity of fish in the Scottish streams is solely due to the fact that insufficient fry has bee. liberated, with the result that the fish are caught before they have time to develop.”