I nearly kissed it.

I don't think many people currently living in the UK would disagree if I said we were having at bit of an odd winter this time round and frankly it's a bit confusing. Nature to seems a bit off balance due to this cockamamie weather. Outside my work shop there is a filbert nut tree which dropped its last catkin way before Christmas and all around its base there are wild garlic shoots three inches high. On my journey to work there is a cherry tree sheltered in a corner of a building which I am sure has blossomed twice already, and in the churchyard down the road from my house there is a pair of daffodils in full bloom. With it being sunny one day, wet the next, then freezing and snowy in random turns, I don't think we or nature knows if it's autumn or winter or possibly even spring.

With the snow having melted what seemed a lifetime ago, the weather had gone full circle and the temperature was now back in double figures. It's because of this I really thought the fish would be in the mood for a good old feed, so I wasn't at all concerned about only having a very short window of opportunity to get out. Really I thought I'd just rock up a few hours before night fell and start smashing them out.

Wrong! After two hours of walking casting and changing lures, I literally had not had a sniff and it seemed like I would have had just as much chance of catching a fish casting into one of the many puddles that lined the tow path as I would casting in the canal itself.

Even with the heavy cloud cover I was well aware that the sun was setting quickly and my chances of putting a bend in my rod were dwindling. But somewhere in the half light I finally scratched myself a very tepid hit on a curly tail grub and swung in a small perch. Normally I don't get too excited by small perch, but this, this one I nearly kissed. Literally after thanking the chilly little fella I nearly kissed it, I was that grateful for it taking my lure. 

If it wasn't for that little perch that I came so near to snogging I would have never had bothered to carry on casting. But I got the strange feeling that there was certainly fish around and that even though they had spent the afternoon fasting, now the light was going they might just come on the feed. Casting right into dark using a very white cannibal shad I finally connected with something better which after smashing the lure, battered around the canal like a demon, and when it came to the net through the murk it looked a bit odd. The thing must have been four or more inches thick and looked like it had swallowed a ball. 

The picture barely shows how thick it was, but as far as feeding was concerned this fish wasn't going without. This fish certainly had been gorging on something to keep itself in this sort of condition at this time of year. Maybe these unseasonal conditions are keeping prey active and the perch well fed, which might give some answer to why on this occasion they only seemed to feed at that optimum hunting time around dusk. Whatever the reason for its great condition I am glad I never kissed that first one as this one was a much more attractive prospect at the end of the session.

A success or not?

Really I am struggling on whether to label my most recent sessions a success or not. Time and weather conspired to limit my bank time, and with only a fleeting amount of hours fishing in what should have been ideal conditions I can't decide whether what I did was perfectly pure or just a total failure.

I had it in my mind that the river with a deluge of rain would be in good condition to try and target zander on the lure in the slacks around Warwick. In truth upon seeing the water lapping at the wooden platforms when I arrived I felt I might have got this a bit wrong. Still though I persisted and endeavoured to chuck a few dark heavily vibrating soft lures in the eddies behind several fallen trees.

Maybe I might have stood a chance if I hadn't underestimated how heavy a jig head I needed to pull a six inch shad down in a turbulent river. Even the slightest of flow would catch the under weighted rubber lure and send it five feet left or right for every foot it dropped. As an experiment I punched the lure over the flow and literally in twelve feet of water it made it back to my own bank before hitting the bottom.

Luckily the rain and wind saved me from persisting any longer than an hour and a half, because I know if it hadn't I would have stuck it out probably to no avail till God only knows when. Though I still reckon fishing lures for zander on coloured rivers on warm days has some mileage, I do now realise that waiting for the river to start dropping might be the course to take in the future.

Now that outing alone would have easily marked these sessions as a flop, but the night before I snatched an impromptu few hours back on the Oxford canal. This session too returned little by the way of fish, and after losing a small zander not long after hooking it, it too looked to be a pretty shitty out come. That was until dusk fell! Like all anglers I probably stay a bit too long and make far too many last casts when really I should have been driving home.

Somewhere in the falling light, around that point when you lose sight of the orange of a float I was retrieving my ever faithful clown cannibal shad slowly across the trench of the canal using a short lifts followed by long pauses. Not far from my own bank I lowered the lure on a tight line to the bottom and felt a hard thump. Next thing I know I've struck and the rod is bent double.

The fight on my light lure outfit was sporting, with the unseen culprit stripping line from the spool and me retrieving it. The fish made powerful runs, but declined to come thrashing open mouthed to the surface which confirmed this was no zander. Even with hardly any light I spotted a big spiky fin piercing a bit of reflection on the canals surface beyond my net, just before a big perch was engulfed in the nets folds.

This fish was immaculate from nose to tail, and it's with a hint of confidence that I say it is very unlikely that it has ever been caught before, as the stretch of canal I was fishing is really out there, overgrown and the one resident that lives there says he has never seen another angler bar myself fishing thereabouts for many years.

And this is what brings me to my quandary! For whatever effort you might apply, is one possibly never before caught, picture perfect perch around two pounds, enough to make your time a success. Because weirdly I feel right now that this was one of the purest captures I have made in a long time. Saying that, it may have felt different if I hadn't have walked away immediately after the capture due to the lack of light. I dare say I would have greedily thrashed the water to foam to probably catch one a quarter of its size if had had only another half an hour of light.

Back on track with a triple.

I don't think I have ever seen the Midlands canals so full of small predators as they are right now. Yes it is possible that my view is a little skewed as predators have been my target of choice for the past god knows how long, but even taking that into consideration there's still loads of them. The bottom of most canals is paved with small perch all of the time, but right now the small zander are catching up and never before have I caught so many jack pike in the canals. Up until this year I was beginning to think the common canal pike of my youth might be an endangered species, but this lure lark has set me right on that matter.

My first prolonged session since becoming a parent seemed the perfect opportunity to check out a section of canal which I used to fish as a child which has recently popped onto my radar again. It's weird because I have been fishing sections either side of the section in question quite a lot this year. A few weeks ago some wonderful tow path info was dribbled into my ears like honey and that tit bit contained my most favourite of phrases 'Big perch'.

Apparently the area in question is very heavily populated with both prey fish and crayfish and after a few enquiries it turned out the area did seem to be producing some nice fish over 2lbs. At another time of the year when the boats were a bit less of a hindrance I would have just gone down toting nothing more than my lure rod, but recent experiences reminded me that if I wanted to be fishing later than nine in the morning a bit of bait might be a good idea.

So with a few worms and a float rod as well as a lure rod, I hit the tow path early hoping to confirm a few rumors were true. I arrived to see the centre canal alive with silver fish and given the dense cover hanging far out over the water all along the far margins, it was hard to pick any particular feature. Luckily I had a spot I fancied might make a good starting point.

Before digging in I had a quick search around with a tiny lure just in case, but that produced nothing but a wind knot in my braid. With so many fish topping I felt sure I would get some serious interest in the worm and quickly plumbed up and baited a spot just off the nearside shelf. Interest I did get, but not from any big perch. Hordes of tiny perch quickly found my broken worms and even a few micro zander turned up as well.

When the water erupted with scattering silver fish, which is unusual on the canals, I was instantly reaching for my lure little Sonik lure rod. Whilst watching the float I'd stripped out the wind knot and tied on a larger 3gram jig and in no time at all I cast my favourite cannibal shad tight into the cover. Two bounces of the lure later something hit it and shot out into the canal. After a spirited fight predator number one, a little pike went in the net.

Straight away after taking a photo and releasing the small pike I cast again tight into the cover about three feet further down the bushes. This time the lure made it into the trench before I felt a sharp tug and struck into predator number two which turned out to be a small zander of a couple of pounds. 

I already had a mind to try for the triple and when the third cast into the bushes produced a subtle but definite fishy vibration, I was elated to swing a small but very greedy third predator to hand.

It kind of made sense that after landing three different predators and making a right old fuss that the swim went dead. So I moved down to another nice looking spot to try the worm. Things didn't go that well as the boats soon began ploughing past, but saying that over the next hour or so I did root out four more tiny little zander fishing half a worm just on the edge of the trench.

Honestly I have never seen as much activity on a section of canal and it does seem to help confirm that this could be a good area for big perch. But I have noticed as I have fished on the canal so much that large populations of both predators and prey fish can actually move from one section to another with the changes in the seasons. Both sections either side of the one I fished on this occasion aren't fishing particularly well at the moment, whereas in the winter both were very reliable. So I reckon if I want to track down these big perch in this area I will have to get back quite soon before all the prey fish that have probably attracted them filter off into other areas.

A shock hit.

Something I have come to realise about lure fishing is that is not as easy as some people would have you believe. It is often billed as a simple and fun method where you simply rock up at a bit of water and start firing your brand new lure around and massive predators crawl up your line. In response to that I wonder how many not very old lure outfits end up forgotten under a pile of other rods after their owner has concluded that "they ain't no preds in my local bit of cut, otters probably et em all" and this why I am sure that a lot of the lure rods sold in the last few years are probably state of the art garden canes right now..

Like all aspects of angling the most vital weapon in your arsenal is knowledge, be it learnt or gathered. This is something I have been spending a bit of time on myself lately. Firstly by going to few new stretches, having a go and taking the outcome on the nose be it good or bad, and secondly going back to old venues where I know there used to be good fish and plying my new methods there.

It was on an old venue where I met Mick off of Piscatorial Quagswagging. We had been had trying to get together for a session for a little while to go to a bit of cut which I hold in very high esteem. The bit of canal in question through what I suspect is largely neglect, grows most species quite large and as yet had only received minimal attention on my part with regards to lure fishing.

At first I thought it was going to be a real go'er when whilst waiting for Mick to arrive I had a quick chuck under the bridge near the car park and hooked a nice looking perch first run through with a brown paddler grub. After that I got even more attention working the lure close the concrete edges of the bridge. Beyond that though the sport was a little less than spectacular as we worked our way along the canal. Usual hot spots seemed either devoid of fish or their occupants were reluctant to have a go.

We fished a few different spots before we finally got some interest. The first fish to show was a small zander which found the dead bait I was fishing right in the centre of the channel on my sleeper rod. Then a short while later a second slightly bigger small zander lashed out at my savage gear clown cannibal shad as I hopped up the marginal shelf.

The highlight of the morning came a little later when I received the single hardest hit I have ever had on a lure. Not long after changing over to a 3" white curly tail grub I got the almighty smack as the lure passed the half way point of the canal. It was one of those hits when there seems to be no time between the first moment when you realise something has taken the lure and the rod being bent double, clutch screaming.

Honestly I thought I had latched into a big pike that was soon going to give me a right old turning over, but with the rod bent low I realised this was not the immovable force I first thought it was. Yes, the fish was giving me some stick but it certainly wasn't a massive weight. Then all too soon a familiar sensation came vibrating up the rod and I realised what it might be. Moments later it surfaced and I was proved right! It was an eel and my lure was hanging out its mouth, bold as brass.

This wasn't the end of it as the eel soon dived again and found a snag on the bottom to curl around. Steady resistance put pay to that escape. The second time it dived though I could feel it writhing back up the line as all little eels do and that's when the fight changed. By now Mick was ready with his net (thanks Mick for taking that slimy net).As it went in the net it looked a bit odd and we saw why the fight had changed. The little sod had only managed to unhook itself as it rolled around the snag and in doing so do had forced the hook into its own tail.

I don't think I have ever been so happy to catch a little eel before. But happy as I was with the capture, I wasn't about to get in a right old state trying to get a picture of me and it together so instead opted for a sedate net shot.

Mick though had other ideas and inclined me to make a tit of myself trying to wrangle an angry slimy eel for a couple of trophy shots. I have a bit of form in regards to hilarious eel photos and these ones didn't disappoint. So here I am totally owning the eel trophy shot and showing exactly how to be the boss of eel handling.

The reason though that I am so chuffed with this capture is that it adds another species to the list of fish I have had on a lure this year. Along with all the normal suspects like pike, perch and zander, I have also had bream, chub, roach, flounder, smelt and now an eel. Although not set in stone this is kind of developing in a bit of a personal challenge to see how many species I can rack up before the end of the year. I reckon all I need to do is put the lures in the right places and I think I could provoke some very interesting battles.

Possibly a world first.

I have this feeling that I could settle down very well and be quite happy by the sea. I even suspect I could give in to the salt water and forget about freshwater fishing. Hence I was eager to get quickly back onto the canals rather than mooning around wishing I was still by the sea. Less than twenty four hours after being back as far away from the sea as you can get, I was walking the tow path of the Coventry wondering which of its many moods it might be in on this occasion.

In truth, with it being a bank holiday weekend once again the water was pretty much the same colour of Willy Wonkers chocolate river from the 1971 Gene Wilder film. I got my hopes up that it would fish well after an early hit from a small zander, but three hours later I was fish free and desperate. I could attribute the poor show to anything from water clarity to copious boat traffic, but I had this niggling thought that it was just one of those off days when the Coventry is as moody as a common garden teenager.

As the Coventry has a habit of being a bit like this I'd had the forethought to bring along a tub of lob worms I had been nursing for a few weeks. Some days fake bait or the way I am fishing fake bait just fails to do the job. Wiggling the worm on a drop shot rig though seems to be able to conjure up the goods when all else fails. I suspect that even though it maybe an unnatural movement the worm is doing, the natural sight of it combined with any scents released seems most of the time to get one over on even the wariest predators.

So there I found myself, working a drop shot rigged worm along the margins of the Coventry canal in a figure of eight motion as I covered the entire distance right back to the car at a snail's pace. I'd only walked ten or so feet when I got a pluck, probably from a small perch. Then after covering the water again I got hit again and this time I stuck into the fish sending it firing off like a bullet. It wasn't big and after an initial surge it turned round and came right in close. A flash of silver and it was a zander, until it gave up and came in where it quickly turned into a skimmer. This wouldn't have been the first skimmer I'd had on the drop shot, but it was the first silver bream I 'd had on it! Over sized eye, peachy fins and bigger scales than a skimmer. It was definitely a silver bream and quite possibly a world first on the drop shot rig to boot.

Less than half a day later after calling it on a dismal return I was on the same canal only in a different county. Turned out a night of no boats had increased the visibility from a few inches to a mere half a foot, but that was enough to get the zander on the move and hunting. Quite quickly I located a shoal of fish holding just inside the far margin shelf against some new reed shoots and the highly visible cannibal shad went about doing what it does best and luring them into attacking mode.

They weren't big, but as always what they lacked in size they made up in number. There were loads of vicious little zander holding all along the cover ready to attack. Although the sport I had on this occasion and many others is both enjoyable and rewarding, the small matter of average size has crept into my head. In short, where the hell are all the bigger fish hiding? Earlier in the year I had a few nice sized fish, but of late they don't seem to be showing at all. Whether it's just a natural bloom in the little ones or that the bigger fish aren't interested in going after the lure I am not sure. What I do know is every canal I seem to go to lately is riddled with zander from six ounces to two pounds.

I know it bodes really well for the future as the recruitment in the last few year classes of zander has been phenomenal from what I have seen. Barring any disasters the Midlands canal network could well see a golden age in zander fishing in five years time. For now though I think I either need to increase the size of lure I am fishing to try and deter some of the smaller or fish or possibly try to fish off the edge of such concentrations to try and locate any big old girls hunting the little ones. For now though I think looking to some old haunts that have in the past thrown up some great fish might be a suitable solution for me. If some of those fish have survived they could be very serious zander by now.