It Didn’t Come To The Frogs. Rotten Creek Fishing

2024 Author: Sebastian Paterson | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 13:47

Fishing tales

On a sunny May day, my friend Vadim and I came on vacation to the forest cordon to his uncle, the huntsman Fyodor Nikolaevich. He, having learned that I, like his nephew, an inveterate fisherman, invited us to fish in Rotten Creek.

- Today I need to get to the cross-river plot, - he explained, - and therefore we are on the way. While I'm at it, you go fishing. And on the way back, I will pick you up. If you get bored - leave without waiting for me.

"But is there any fish in Rotten Creek?" - Vadim was surprised, - as far as I remember, she was never there …

Fyodor Nikolaevich narrowed his eyes slyly and, smilingly looking at his relative, said:

- Do not rush to conclusions…

- We take only fishing rods, - said Vadim, already turning to me.

- Take a spinning rod just in case, - advised Fyodor Nikolaevich.

- Are we going to catch frogs for spinning? - objected Vadim.

- Take, take … - the huntsman insisted.

We took with us two fishing rods, a spinning rod and, putting on mosquito nets, went to Rotten Stream. The midday sun was already beating down, and therefore as soon as we entered the forest, where the air was motionless, we immediately plunged into the fragrant stagnant stuffiness and sweated. It's good that it didn't take long to go.

The rotten stream was a narrow channel with silty banks, densely overgrown with aquatic plants. Only here and there among them were tiny water mirrors glistening. And the water itself was an unpleasant dark brown color, very cold. Apparently, the stream was fed by underground springs. Vadim and I silently looked at this gloomy, inhospitable place. Then he asked:

- Uncle Fyodor, well, where to fish here? There is nowhere to cast a fishing rod.

“Look for pools,” his uncle advised him, and after a pause he added:

- It is in them that all the fish keeps …

- So be it … - Vadim waved his hand, - there is nothing to do: if you are dragged here, you have to try.

- Try, try, - Fyodor Nikolaevich admonished us and, wishing us successful fishing, went deep into the forest.

We, having consulted, decided to go in different directions to examine the stream. Moreover, Vadim categorically refused to take a spinning rod, as he explained, as unnecessary. I had to take it to me. I went upstream, Vadim downstream.

… Stuck ankle-deep in the viscous squelching mud, I slowly walked along the stream, looking for a place where I could make a cast. However, it never came across. Finally, when I was completely desperate and was about to turn back, I saw a small space of clear water among the green wall of tall grass. It turned out to be so tiny that you could easily reach any part of it around the perimeter with a rod.

I hesitated: on the one hand, is it worth wasting time on such a hopeless place? On the other hand, do I have a choice?

I planted a fat gadfly on the hook, swung to throw the bait in the middle of the pool, but did not calculate, and it sank onto a willow bush bent over the water on the opposite side. I shook the rod, the hook with a gadfly fell off the very shore. The float stuck out motionless for several seconds, then plunged sharply. I instantly hooked and pulled out a palm-sized roach. The next cast is another roach, a little smaller. The third is roach again. Then he pulled out a dozen different-sized perches. These fish chased any bait and literally threw themselves on the hook. Even when there were only pathetic remnants of a worm or gadfly on it.

Suddenly, as if on command, the biting stopped … And then I remembered about spinning. I went further away so as not to fall on the willow bush again and threw the spoon. As soon as she flopped into the water, I immediately felt a sharp jerk. Vigorously hooked, the fish jumped to the side and froze. The line weakened noticeably, and I thought the prey had fallen off. However, when he began to pick up the slack, the fish dodged, then, sparkling with yellow-red fins, jumped out of the water with a steep candle. It was a pike a kilogram and a half. I easily brought her ashore. I threw the spoon again, and another pike fluttered on the grass. For the third time, no one coveted the bait, and I again took up the fishing rod. In a short time I fished six roach, a dozen perches and one more pike.

Meanwhile, the sky was covered with leaden clouds, and a nasty fine rain began to drizzle. Soon Vadim came. For several minutes he stared silently at my catch. And, having come to himself, he asked:

- Where does all this come from?

- And from there! - I answered, removing another roach from the hook.

- I have nothing … - he threw up his hands.

I don’t know why: either we scared away all the fish, or it was the rain that was getting stronger, but the biting stopped. We did not wait for its renewal, collected the catch and hurried home.