Tench, Carp and Rudd. 



23 



close to the spot where I had 

 seen him. The head of the eel 

 is freest from slime, and the otter 

 was content to eat that part and 

 leave the rest. Pike have been 

 angled for with small tench, but 

 they declined to take them. 

 When a dace was substituted, 

 the bait was immediately seized. 

 This is fairly conclusive proof of 

 the pike's antipathy to tench as 

 food. I regret to be compelled 

 to dispose of the one virtue tradi- 

 tion ascribes to him. 



CARP (Cyprinus carpio}. 



The angler who has success- 

 fully outwitted carp is to be con- 

 gratulated. Of all fresh-water 

 fish it is the most difficult to 

 circumvent. ; Its wariness to all 

 forms of Jures is notorious. 

 Catching a weasel asleep is a 

 trifle compared with catching a 

 carp awake. The precautions to 

 be observed in approaching him 

 are almost too much for human 

 flesh and blood to undergo. The 

 prescience with which he is 

 credited makes him a detective 

 that Scotland Yard might envy. 

 Although his food normally con- 

 sists of decayed vegetables and 

 other untempting fare, in the 

 matter of anglers' baits he is an 

 epicure. He is supposed to smell 

 the fingers that have handled the 

 hook baited for his destruction. 

 A veteran angler once advised 

 me, in all seriousness, not to 

 touch anything offered to him ; 

 counsel rather difficult to carry 

 into practice. Tackle also has 

 its difficulties. If you fish fine, 

 he cannot be held ; if coarse, he 

 will laugh at your simplicity. 

 Despite all this, I have never 

 known an angler that did not 

 try for him. One has only to 

 get a glimpse of him to risk the 

 odds, though it is one in a hun- 

 dred against getting a nibble. 

 His golden brown tint with a dash 



of olive in it, his large scales of 

 over thirty rows, his huge dorsal 

 fin, his thick-set, but by no means 

 unshapely, body, make him a 

 prize worthy of capture, though 

 years be spent in the quest. 

 Homer nods, and even carp are 

 found napping. The angler for- 

 tunate enough to stumble on this 

 exception to his wide-awake mood 

 verily has his reward. 



To encounter him is to experi- 

 ence some of the best play known 

 to a rod. He fights like a demon, 

 taking the line off the reel with 

 lightningswiftness, boring, jerking, 

 and putting forth enough force to 

 jeopardise the strongest tackle. 

 All the weary months in which 

 he passed by on the other side 

 of the bait, all the precious time 

 that might have been used to more 

 profit among less sophisticated 

 species, the vows of renouncing 

 him and all his tribe, are forgotten 

 in the moment of battle, when the 

 " fox of the river " as he has 

 been appropriately called has 

 been hooked at last. And yet 

 the chances are that he will not 

 be landed ; he breaks for the 

 weeds, buries himself in the 

 deepest hole and becomes as 

 immovable as a log. It is not 

 for nothing that he is given the 

 biggest brain of all fresh-water 

 fish ; every ounce of it is 

 drafted into service in the fight 

 for dear life small blame to him ; 

 all the more credit, too, to the 

 rod if it wins the victory. 



Ground-baiting has a purpose 

 different from gathering carp into 

 a particular hole, as in the case of 

 bream and barbel. Its object is 

 to disarm suspicion ; and the pro- 

 cess, to have a chance of success, 

 should be repeated several days 

 in succession before a hooked bait 

 is offered. To imagine that a hole 

 baited overnight will set carp on 

 the feed is an innocent delusion. 

 They will take the ground-bait 

 with thanks, but when the same 



