CHUB
FLITTING between species is never better rewarded than in winter, and it’s rare that I don’t follow grayling with chub. The tackle is all but ready and I will have plenty of maggots to send their way.
There are many ways to go about catching chub, but as the lowland rivers clear the humble maggot can’t be bettered. The first bite might not come quickly, but dripfeeding to a raft of debris beneath which a shoal has gathered will bring a response in the end.
For about an hour, while I prepare my tackle, I break off to feed the swim several times. Then, normally within the first dozen trots, I will know the score. No bites and I will move on quickly and repeat the process – come a bite and I will inspect the catch.
As I gently squeeze the chub’s stomach and look in its mouth, what I really want to see is no maggots, or only a few at most. This sounds strange – but although a mouthful of maggots points to a confident chub it also indicates a distinct lack of competition from its shoal-mates.
By inspecting each and every subsequent fish I can gauge how many remain in front of me and know when it’s time to move on.
The tackle is the same as for grayling, but on wider waterways I would use a fixed-spool reel rather than a pin. The temptation to make the first cast quickly is strong when it’s cold, but patience will be rewarded when not one fish but most of the shoal ends up in the landing net.
My adventures continue, and I admit to relishing the challenges winter poses. I have learnt not to fight the cold but to let it tell me what to do – and if you follow suit I guarantee the bites will come.