The grandsons have been staying with us since last weekend and today the oldest of the pair said 'Grandad, we have to go fishing before we go back'. So after lunch we headed down to the river armed with maggots, worms and stewed wheat.
A piercingly bright and windy afternoon along with gin clear water meant it would be a battle but nothing dents the enthusiasm of a small boy. The river here is about eight feet deep but the lilies, cabbages, eel grass and weed reach to within three feet of the surface, so it's not a water for the faint hearted in its summer dress.
After two and a half hours he had lost a few fish, caught four Rudd and a solitary perch with a blue chin, the blue chin is something I haven't noticed before either, so he was very, very pleased with himself. I apologised for him not catching anything bigger but that simply didn't seem important to a small boy who had caught some real river gems.
Strange really, it takes a child to give you different perspective on precisely what defines a successful two and a half hour session.
Gold in his hands
ReplyDeleteSpot on John.
ReplyDelete