Secret

Do not talk! With each passing of August approached. And although the weather gradually began to give out the first steps of autumn. But there was not a day either, so that a merry, really hot summer storm would not sound. Fishing is not looking at a seemingly suitable season – was not easy to develop.

Malek Karp already fully adapted in the new pond and began to openly borzet, or rather – became the undivided master of the “lake”. If it bites, then 99% is he, a 30-gram monster…

Whatever fishers did not use the nozzle, the young man instantly knocked it down, tore it up, devoured it. It was impossible to catch worms. At the same time, the baton ball simply did not have time to reach the bottom, as it was eaten by half … It was enough to lower the fishing rod and immediately raise it, and there were already marks and holes on the batch mixture of dozens of bites. Here is such a sadness …

Only potatoes and canned corn remained of hard, miscible baits. But unfortunately, the groatsman was not in a hurry to these delicacies.

So, one morning I sat on the lake dam and was exhausted. Malek Karp was simply atrocious. I wasted half of the prepared nozzle, I decided to move to the narrowing of the lake, to the already known Austin. And, strangely enough, the first bite on the loaf! Brought molting. After two empty bites – again a ruler. Against the backdrop of the fry raging all over the lake, I was happy even with these two hundredgram molts …

Suddenly, on the other side of the narrowing appeared Uncle Volodya, whom I saw on the sleeve of the lake the night before. I shouted over the distance of 40 meters, I asked how the successes were yesterday. The old fisherman, not to attract attention with his stories from the fishermen sitting near me, only nodded his head emphatically. With a cunning look, he tightened his camouflage cap tightly and pushed it into his sleeve.

I did not even begin to doubt, because Uncle Volodya did not even toss the gestures, not to mention the words, to the wind. Quickly picking up the tackles, I followed the gaze of neighbors along the dam in the direction of the sleeve.

Measuring 800 meters, I skirted the sleeve, passing the nearest dam that blocked this section of the ditch. At the hill, in his place sat Uncle Volodya. From him I learned that yesterday he managed to catch 3 good carp. This is the number, and this is due to the dominance of the fry.

In the hope of planting carp to my moult, I sat down on the other side of a strip of reeds, in my usual place. Although it was lost a lot of time on the dam. It was already the seventh hour …

That morning, I twice heard strong abuse from my older friend. In the intervals between the dolphinization of the fry, he had two bites of carp. But unfortunately, everything ended in descents. The reason for this was a narrow, ditched ditch and thick reeds on both banks. With all the colossal experience, Uncle Volodya did not have the maneuver to exhaust the fish, and those on the short line managed to get the tackle in the support and get rid of the hooks. My bites were just a fucking fry … It remained, complaining of unfriendliness of fortune, to reel off fishing rods.

Uncle Volodya and I, nevertheless, continued to believe that this place on the hill will bring us many pleasant moments in the near future. Not wanting anyone to prosek our promising places in the sleeve, we decided to “classify” the last two fishing and not a word to anyone 🙂 It was painfully fresh in the memory of the incident with Moska …

*     *     *

The veil of twilight and fog had not yet vanished, and I was already walking along a dewy path to the lake. I sweep the whole wide part of the pond, wrap it up behind the beach, narrowing, hill – that’s the place. The first ray of sunlight pierced the light morning clouds.

Go. Bait in the water. The fishing rods are tuned. Behind the bushes you can already hear the scrape of Uncle Volodya’s bicycle. And we set to work. I throw one float to the shore, and the second – to the reeds of the opposite and seriously expect miracles 🙂

In less than five minutes, the long float rose and rode into the reeds. The line stretched, the coil rotated and the furred carp, squelching on the surface, went ashore, straight to my hands.

Uncle Volodya rejoices at my success. And as usual he instructs: “It is urgent to hide the fish in the cage, and it will be the floor of the city in the thickest of reeds, tomorrow. In how. “It was difficult to argue with him. Recently, the demand for cool places and ideas has grown on our lake at times!

The creep was growing. Through two decent molts from under the near edge of a cane, again a barking bite. But this time I was able to bring the mustachioed only to the middle of the ditch, as he safely descended. As they say: “It’s a shame, but it’s okay …”.

In the meantime, Uncle Volodya has a hopeless wilderness, except for hooks … Finally snags have always brought out a quiet veteran and undressed, he climbed to clean the bottom. A few solid branches and logs were extracted from the bottom.

Bathing obviously cheered my friend and he began to catch directly in the cloud of turbidity, which he had just picked up from the bottom. I expressed doubts that there still remained an unbetted fish. However, an experienced fisherman objected that the fish would certainly come here in search of food.

Half an hour passed. In the cloud of turbidity, the biting did not even begin. But the trickles of the raised silt were carried by the current … to my floats. Well, I could thank my comrade for such a shedding, since the number of lines in my cage tripled in about 15-20 minutes.

Already after nine o’clock, when the sun began to bake, on the long fishing rod there was another carp bite. But the hook apparently missed the mouth of the fish …