In the ducts of the reservoir

Report on pike fishing from ice to roach and ruff. “Away with laziness and lingering arguments, they say, a lot of work and a lot of things! And if as before? .. For a day or two to the dugout on the Volga island? ”

After fishing, some vague plans for distant fishing began to emerge from the first not yet thick ice. The reason for this was not very confident success in catching pike on vents (read here). Something is happening with our city reservoir and this “something” is a negative phenomenon. If before you didn’t have to go anywhere to get large fish, and you could catch it literally in the city, fifteen to twenty minutes from home, in recent years even smaller fish have come across and it has become less common. Pikes come across for the most part no heavier than a kilogram. Those usual two kilograms are gone. And came across five kilos. What is the reason? Probably, a blow to the ecology was inflicted during the recent summer flood after rains and freezes.

This is not to say that the refrigerator was empty this time. And the pike was found in it, as usual, only this time it was present in a miserable one copy, and even that one was preparing for a slaughter on a mother-in-law table ... This was not yet in my biography, and I finally realized - I'm getting old ... Everything somehow drove this thought away, but it turned out by itself that if earlier I could always find a reason to get away from my family fishing even on holidays and in the middle of the work week, now I find more and more reason and arguments so as not to tear my lazy ass off the couch and do not drag somewhere into darkness and scum, where the whine of wind and manure lives on the smooth ice of a reservoir.

No ... Away laziness and lingering arguments, they say, a lot of work and a lot of things! And if as before ">

But pragmatic thoughts were already fussing in my head, they say, for two days a long time, and there is a lot of trouble for one with an overnight stay. After all, it’s not twenty, it’s five years in the middle of the Volga on the ice to spend the night under a plastic canopy and near a liquid fire, which itself freezes and sometimes falls into a ravine eaten by coals in ice. And whether those treasured dugouts remained on the islands in which so many nights were spent singing coals in a potbelly stove.

I recommend to read:

At the old dugout

In a word, a compromise was found: I’m going for a day, and I’ll take live bait with me. I went on the eve of leaving to a local reservoir, caught a dozen little roach and prepared them for departure: I supplied it with air from the compressor and put it in a cold place.

In the morning, he crunched with new shoe covers in the snow of the Cheboksary reservoir, peering through the twilight into the outlines of the island darkening in front. I won’t go to distant channels - there’s not enough day for distant fishing. Get off the islet and put out the gear. Once I caught here yellow-eyed pikes, from which small leeches-sticks fell on the snow. The main bait is. You can immediately set the girders, as I come, and the kilometers are long, although it seems that everything is nearby.

I recommend to read:

First ice. Problems with live bait

Small river - small roach

Well, here is an island covered with snow and covered with stunted birches that stood in the winds and are not washed by the spring and autumn waves. Now it’s more likely to expose the girders. Daylight hours in late autumn are very short. I open the can with live bait, and there the roach whitens belly up. Hardly found among the languid half-bodies of heels of nimble plots. Something is wrong this time with live bait. He looked at the lid of the kan and realized - again the same mistake that had happened before: the kan's holes were covered with frozen water. The path was too long in the cold wind, and it did not occur to clean the lid and open it time and time.

Putting the heels of the zergirls, I began to catch shallow water near the island, but everywhere I only pecked ruffs. So ... And if you go there, towards the darkening high coast. There seems to have been a hole? Crunching hastily with shoe covers a hundred meters, a storm hole and sit down on a stool, waiting for a bite. Exactly, there is something from the white "estate": a nod significantly curved upward. So takes bream and a roach maggot is falsified by hacks and bream ... And from a depth of five meters I pull out ... another ruff is even smaller than the rest ...

Nothing to do, expose the remaining gear with ruffs. And surprisingly: of the three small pikes caught that day, two were taken on a ruff ... Apparently, on the days when predators simply rage, there is simply nowhere to go for roaches and perch. And they clog into some grassy backwaters where the predator cannot get into. And the predators have nowhere to go. Having exterminated or dispersed their potential prey, they have to switch to thorny and snotty ruffs, which are preferred by burbots, but pike - only during hunger .