I will spit on my grandfather’s spoon in the pike’s face
Bright April days delight with the long-awaited warmth and smells of waking earth. Fishermen, after a short break, are activated. Someone trying to catch a burbot by putting a bunch of worms, bird intestines or a slightly wrinkled ruff on a hook. And someone likes to walk with a spinning rod at this time. Pikes are already moving away from spawning, hungry. Even the autumn wide grandfather’s baubles respond positively. There are still amateurs, among the old fishermen, who still hunt for such predators from spring to autumn.
There’s a man down the river in an “elastic band” coming down and whipping a short spinning rod, trying to put a spoon in the immediate vicinity of the coastal driftwood. A spinner in the floor of a palm wide and palm long loudly slaps on the surface of the water.
– Caught something?
A man silently lifts a short cook with two pike about a kilogram in weight.
– Well, well done!
The guy is smiling pretty.
No, of course, now there is an abundance of various spinning lures such as wobblers, vibration tails, twisters … Ultralight spinning rods … fighting large fish with thin gear. Other gadgets.
And someone put a huge spinner on a fishing line 0.6 mm and, without any hesitation, thrashes it with water. The most interesting thing is that it also catches fish. Just pulls it ashore, not afraid of any cliffs, like a horse for reins, and pops into a bag full of nettles. Everyone has fun in his own way. And fishing – she is any beautiful. And not only because you can then cook the ear and fry the fish. The opportunity to be alone, to chat with wildlife, to relax your soul under the gentle warm spring breeze – it costs a lot. There, a nice bird on a branch of the village, feathers are beautiful. Now, probably, she will sing in a heavenly voice. Ah no! Screaming, infection like a tattered cat. This jay from the forest to the edge of the river flew out to remind us that not everything in this world is smeared with honey.