SUCCESS IS ALL DOWN TO TIMING
Dawn tench decided to have a lie-in but luckily I sussed out their game...
IWAS optimistic when my tench session began at 4am but seven hours later, with the bobbins still static, I was losing heart.
Conditions were perfect, and the odd fin breaking though the surface above my rigs confirmed I’d got the location correct.
Feeling frustrated, I reeled in, loaded the van and headed for home – why had I failed? I suspected my timing had a lot to do with it. Yes, finding the fish, using an efficient rig and giving them a suitable bait are all
essential to success, but being there when the fish want to eat is every bit as important.
No species feeds 24/7, in fact the windows of opportunity can often be well defined and relatively short.
In carp fishing circles it’s common to camp round the clock in a bivvy but only fish for two hours at dawn. I was hoping the gravel pit tench I was targeting this time out would feed between 8am and 10am, but what if I was wrong?
Maybe before I’d even unloaded the van and opened my front door a shoal of laterising tincas had decided it was time for a feed. Had I still been fishing, perhaps I’d have enjoyed a red letter day rather than chalked up a blank. One wrong step had been enough to decide the outcome.
In a few days I’d be fishing a very similar venue to where I’d failed to make an impression on the tench. This time, though, if
11 o’clock came round again and I was still fishless, I’d stay on for another three hours to see if the tincas preferred lunch to breakfast.
After an early alarm call I arrived at the pit as mist danced across the surface, still to be burned away by the sun. A tench rolled just where I expected them to be, and pre-armed with knowledge of the water I sent out two bolt rig feeders to sit on a gravel patch at 50 yards.
To accompany the maggots wriggling out of the holes I used two fake caster hookbaits soaked in Sticky’s Pineapple & N’Butyric bait spray, and once the rigs were in place I Spombed out real casters and hemp over the spot. When the alarms once again refused to call me I was, I admit, a tad bemused. Yes, the weather had been strange but did that really mean the tench weren’t feeding any more?
With elevenses time fast approaching I was tempted to forget my plan to stay on, but I needed to know. So I reeled in and refreshed the feeders, adding a couple more Spombs of freebies to ring the dinner gong.
Sure enough, 15 minutes later I had not one but two takes, and on the very next cast the reel spool spun before I could even put the rod on the rests!
Nothing had changed except the feeding time, and suddenly I was reeling in one emeraldflanked tench after another!
Could I have avoided a difficult spring by being more flexible and adapting to the tench’s new timetable? Perhaps – ‘right place, wrong time’ sprang to mind as another paintbrush tail flipped over the net cord.
One species above all others with a well-defined feeding spell is the perch. Many times in winter I’ve sat fishless all afternoon, knowing full well the perch were lazing around right in front of me. Then, as the sun slipped from the sky, a switch was flipped and they started to feed aggressively.
However, in early summer this behaviour is turned on its head, so when I planned a trip in pursuit of these spiny predators I had to be up with the lark.
If the sun had risen before I arrived at the river there would be no chance of a bite, so I
“The reel spool spun before I could put the rod on the rests!”
hurried down the track, making a beeline for where I’d seen perch sitting a week or two ago.
Winter floods had taken chunks out of the banks, and where the earth had collapsed into the water the flow was deflected, providing a perfect ambush station for my quarry.
If I stayed quiet I could fish right under my feet, so laying on with a big buoyant Avon float seemed the perfect approach. A quivertip at such close quarters would be hard to react to and besides, I needed to slow the bite down and reduce resistance. So I rigged up 5lb mainline to a 4.4lb fluorocarbon hooklength and a size 4 wide gape hook. Bait was a big juicy lobworm, broken at the saddle and attached where the scent would ooze out and encourage the perch to pick up the barbed end of the hook. No free feed would be going in because with such a short window of opportunity speed was of the essence. Besides, to groundbait accurately I’d need a bait dropper, and that would disturb the swim.
The lobworm, accompanied by a string of shot, was swung out to the bottom behind a boulder. The current grabbed the line and a belly formed, cocking the float.
Crouching directly above, I watched the fluorescent float tip wobble and sink out of sight. A strike confirmed what was responsible, and after a minute of trading blows I gladly scooped up my prize – a lovely big river perch. Its stripes had seemingly been washed away, but a pristine dorsal fin and vivid red fins made up for that. This was to be my only bite, although I knew the rest of the shoal was still there.
Timing is crucial to catching fish, so don’t always assume your location, bait or rig is wrong. It can be something far more basic – not being there at the right time of day!