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…

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We are changing the living world
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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Roach in front of the Deaf Earth
The revival of biting in the Sorozhkin weather. The role and composition of the bait in a period of weak activity of roach. What mormyshki and which game are most…

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I caught good bream

When a friend is under the ice

This morning, Sergei clearly caught Vitaly on the first ice. The fish seemed to go around the holes of his friend and took only from him. When another large fish fluttered at Sergei’s hole, Vital broke through. For about five minutes he cursed the fate of the tin, interspersing lamentations with juicy-catchy interjections, and in the end he kicked the snotty ruff lying alone at the hole and, throwing a box behind his back, moved to the fairway.

Sergey was strangled with laughter – a hefty kid burst out laughing like a boy, but understood Vitaly with his heart: he had to envy himself, looking at a successful neighbor carrying fish one after another, and there were only three meters to the neighbor’s hole …

– Vitaly! – shouted after Sergey. – Sit next, haste. Have fun together!

But Vitaly, without turning around, waved his hand and walked quickly.

Again, a large scammer took Sergey, but the joy of his capture seemed to fade, was incomplete. But what seemed to be missing? And the fish bite, and the ice is warm, as in the blessed season of the Indian summer. Continue reading

Dead zone

Birch trees were gilded, maples were covered with grease, and a red leaf fell on the still icy water, blue from the same blue sky, even cold in appearance. In the mornings, the grass turns gray with brittle hoarfrost, but with the burning sun thaws and is covered with a tearful placer.

These years are not hasty for the winter. Just in the morning everything was ossified in a frosty haze, and you already guess how suddenly tomorrow calm waters will catch in with thin ice at first. And with gambling impatience, you begin to sort through winter gear and uniforms. But the day will come, and everything will be repeated all over again: an ice mat in a hoarfrost, frozen water in an old barrel thrown with a leaf, and … a warm, almost summer day.

In the morning I was on a suburban river. He drank water alone with tested oscillators and wobblers. On one casting and winding, the fishing line suddenly stopped, and the lure became heavier many times. It seemed that he had hooked the grass mane with tees, but the grass went to the side, and soon on the fishing line a little beetle elastically twitched, quite decent for a small river. After that, no matter how the water was whipped with a wide variety of baits, there was no grip. Apparently, the reason for the rare pike exits is the small number in these places, albeit not a large pike. Continue reading

When the moon burns and takes burbot
Night burbot fishing. Preparing for fishing. The alarm of fate rings in the sky, and blood is burning with excitement ... Burbot night fishing Night fishing requires some preparation for…

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Burbot sweet fish
Pike never managed to persuade high atmospheric pressure these days. Although in places remote, on the Volga and Vetluga, she, apparently, still came across, especially to the one who was…

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Cannibals among fish
What kind of fish would not mind to scorn and gobble up your brother by blood? And what do we fishermen care about who among the fish devours each other?…

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Books in the fishing dugout
... opening the dugout, we saw books on the shelves ... This was not in any dugout in which we had to spend the night ... This morning we are…

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