Classical carp fishing Pushing away from the equator of summer, for three days I was tormented by a line society on the lake. And closer to the third decade of July, we again met on the ground in the sleeve behind the hill with Uncle Volodya. In the morning he again pecked the tench.

Hours at 7, Tolik approached us, the guard of the shooting range, which was nearby. He sat between me and Volodya and began to poison some bikes about fishing. The keeper’s work is good. The shooting range is not a wolf – it will not run away to the forest 🙂

In the meantime, at my float, standing at a snag under the opposite bank of a ditch, some actions have begun. First out of the water came a stick – a piece of last year’s reeds. Then, next to the “boiled” saucer small bubbles. The thin antenna of the float fluttered and began to creep gently upward. Tried sweep and invisible enemy began to tighten the arc at the bottom with force. The friction cracked. Tolik jumped up and whispered in a half-whisper: “Bring, bring him here!”

I unfolded the fish without letting a bulrush fly into the wall (which would have been equivalent to going out) and took her to me. The carp was excellent, under 2kg weight! Yes, and pecked just classically. Tolik was pleased with what he had seen and happily wandered further to guard the shooting range …

Strangely enough, the bite on exactly the same scenario was repeated the next morning, but this time the carp managed to take the tackle to the reeds and get off …

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The end of the month I spent in trying to catch carp, but it was time to be without glue. Only four carpics were caught before the beginning of August, and they were caught in a running way, on bubbles. The conclusion implied itself: it was time to “translate the arrows” to the river. But before that, Uncle Volodya and I had one provocative political mission. But this is my next story.