SPAWNY GITS!
As many of Britain’s coarse fish get down and dirty to breed, our man Dom Garnett ponders a time of tricky fishing and curious behaviour.
IT HAS to happen at some point in the year. The reeds start knocking, fish play chase and nuzzle each other like things possessed. Bobbins and floats can stay motionless, while anglers curse. But what can you do?
I’m not about to reignite the whole closed season debate, but the very term ‘coarse’ fish derives from this vital time of year.
Back when we fished to eat, species such as roach and bream would be rough to the touch (literally ‘coarse’), when out of season, due to those characteristic bumps or tubercles on their heads and bodies.
Spawning activity can and does have unexpected consequences. The frenzied gatherings of smaller roach, rudd and others doesn’t go unnoticed by their larger neighbours. Carp move in and gorge on eggs or even young fry, to the frustration of those trying to catch them with boilies. Predators also cash in while their prey are off guard.
On one of my local stillwaters, you can find scrums of roach in the margins. Every so often there is a sudden crash as a pike breaks in. Talk about spoiling the party.
Fishing can be iffy for obvious reasons then, but it is also the time of year when unexpected things happen. Several times I’ve caught bream, for example, using flies and lures intended for other species. Whether this is prespawn aggression or fish that are capitalising on concentrations of fry, I cannot say for sure.
Perhaps by changing our tactics we might even catch some of the gatecrashers at the orgy? Every season a few carp are caught on lures in the spring, while even rudd will prey on fry. It would take a brave man to hair-rig a couple of tiny roach instead of a boilie, but if the bites have dried up for natural reasons could it be a case of nothing ventured nothing gained?
As for catching fish right on the cusp of spawning, I sometimes feel a bit guilty when they take my bait. After all, this part of the year is so essential for them. So perhaps if we can’t or shouldn’t catch them, we should be content to take a ringside seat?
You’d struggle to describe bonking fish as one of nature’s “beautiful” spectacles, but it can be fascinating. Once they’ve done the deed, you’ll often find them as ravenous as those recovering from a wild weekend bender.
This is a time to reflect on the cycle of life and respect our quarry. These are living things and do not exist just to put a bend in our rods. Closed season or not, our care – or lack of it – could affect their chances of repeating the ritual that sustains them.