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We are clearly changing the living world and it is not known what it will result in. Most likely, many people remember how, before the year 2000, the zealots of…

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Nothing, nothing, men, if you try it, you don’t like it - it’ll go to lure ... On this day, there was no bite on Borovskaya, at least on the…

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Roach in front of the Deaf Earth
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About feeder fishing and the dangers of superstition

The opinion of the extraordinary superstition and mystical mood of anglers has already become classic and somewhat erased. All this is true, but it is not difficult to find the cause of such oddities. A true fisherman spends half his life fishing, and retires the rest … How can one be a dry pragmatist and realist, spending the night by the fire under the cold gaze of the full moon – Queen Inferno? And how not to believe in the Law of Meanness, if it constantly confirms its right to exist. For a banal experiment, a lot is not required. It takes a couple of weeks to “plow” at the most dirty work, for example, a slave in a galley or a house master from a former classmate who has long invited to hammer a nail into the wall. In this case, you must constantly think and dream about two or three days of fishing with an overnight stay, which will be of such and such a day and day. Dreams must be voiced by witnesses, they say, oh, I’ll go fishing and fish, I’ll catch a fish, I’ll take triple aromatic vodka under my ear! .. Yes, far from my wife and children … Until all this is predicted and dreamed, wetted by labor sweat, it won’t stop on the street the bright sun will shine and the clouds will look like pink lambs. But as soon as the evening arrives before the blessed and long-awaited fishing, when dirty clouds are dragged from somewhere, they flop on the tops of poplars and weep in tedious sea-rain, which will last exactly as many days as were allowed for such an expected fishing. But once you get to work, the sun smiles again and the white clouds float slowly over the horizon …

Therefore, as far as I can remember, I tried to appease and deceive this “SOMETHING”, which cannot sleep all the time without any other muck. On the Volga, while anchoring, we never lowered a cage into the water before the first fish caught. And the first bream and ide still rumbled for a long time on the bottom, rolling under the winds of a motorboat. I didn’t collect even the strippers in working position until at least some fish was caught.

This time, the net also lay on the grass in an embryo position, holding up the handle and rim, also wrapped in a net.

Secretly, I was hoping for a bite of the bream, since the bream time had already come, and the presence of fish was seen along the paths of the bubbles. But outwardly, with all his appearance, he showed an insidious essence, that he only dreamed of catching a little roach with a finger and teenage scammers here. So it was at the beginning. Worms and perches came across the worm. Occasionally, scavengers are slightly larger than the palm. This is a five-meter fishing rod that was abandoned next to the bush. A long “six-meter” has not yet been claimed. On one of her hooks there is a decoy chatterbox with the smell of vanilla, and on the other a worm.

But the sports float-needle slightly rose, then flopped to one side, stood obliquely and thoughtfully went to the side. It’s time! .. I pull the tackle on myself in a confident bite, and on the fishing line suddenly “something” started to jump and jump … It doesn’t look like a bream at all. Uh, yes it’s a pike! An open mouth protruded from the water. The pike shook its head, twisted in a candle, but did not go down. I began to carefully lead her to the shore, mechanically shaking my hand in search of a sucker. Finding it in the already mentioned form, spat in annoyance, and tried to take a pike with his hand under the very shore. But she wagged her tail, making a farewell curtsy, and without hurrying, she went to the side, taking away the cropped leash. One could see how in the corner of the pike’s mouth a piece of fishing line and the tail of a worm curl under the currents of water.

Meanwhile, the onboard donka gatehouse, which I used here instead of the feeder, suddenly swayed, fell back, bent down sharply and issued a ringing trill of a bell. Then the tremors became insistently nervous. The fish is clearly spotted. Throwing aside the ill-fated “six-meter”, I throw myself at the Donka, hook up and begin to snatch a heavy fish. This is a bream, and not a small one. The elastic and imperious force is felt there, at the end of the fishing line. Soon the bream rose and swam to the shore, turning over in sleepy bewilderment and gleaming with golden scales. “That’s it, now I’ll take it!”, The self-confident sounded aloud. And only I said this, as a bream, according to the already known law, suddenly rested against the very shore, shook its head with a thick lip and … only I saw it …

I looked at the little net lying on the shore and realized: superstition is harmful, amen.

This morning, wherever I throw the donkey and the feeder removed from the cover, only small scammers come across everywhere. But on the shore lay a sucker, assembled according to all the rules. And I’ll catch the fish next time …

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