Dorset Stillwater II 21st January 2007.

Back again. Why? Well, it seems I can pretty well guarantee to have the place to myself. For some reason no one if fishing it wintertime, but given the warm January everywhere is fishing uncharacteristically well. I’ve sat myself on the North bank in the sun of the 1-acre lake, which I have decided to try for a change, no other reason. I tried the SE corner for a while but after 20 minutes I thought is just wasn’t right and moved to where I am now, and my worms have already been nicked off me. No result, other than the confirmation of fish present though.

I’ve added another worm to the hook. In front of me are large clumps of marsh grass - and the very act of my next cast gets the attentions of a small Rudd, which despite it 4 ounce size, engulfs my 2 worms on a size 10 Partridge No. 7 hook. “One” then.

Sun, tea, chocolate and a fish. Nearly perfect. Odd. I’ve decide to put my only 'Jack Hilton' size 12 onto a 6lb braid trace. If the fish are little I might as well go with it in the sun. Again the float has edged off and I find I’m attached to a larger fish with a solid but serpentine feel. It only takes a couple of minutes to get the net under a slender silver bar, not unlike a mullet, but which must be a grass carp. As these are supposed to fight to the death, I can only conclude this one was half dead when I hooked it. Glorious looking fish though. That’s the odd bit, and a first for JAA.

As I surmised the right spot. Another Rudd. I move the ‘tell-tale BB’ and get an 8oz mirror. Delaying the small hook now. The quill on is made from a pheasant tail feather, which is straight, nicely tapered and looks good but takes little shot a BB at most. Another small common on a pickled cockle. A lull. Plenty of fry really – a light set up might have been more fun but I brought the Avon down and it’s a tramp to the car for a float rod so I stay with what I have.

Opposite me is an oak with its crinkled branches distinct from the ash trees behind it. A jay is chattering in this oak, 30 yards distant, which is too close for him but although agitated he’s staying for now. There seem to be fewer jays around than I recall and they are shy at the best of times. This one watches me, dancing from claw to claw, not having yet decided if flight is right. An upturned rowing boat is at the foot of the tree, presumably for the lake owner's maintenance. Another carplet, but it shook the hook, which is not a great loss. Then the bites start to dry up, like a jay slipping away from branch to branch. I’m always a bit more interested then as the sudden disappearance of the small stuff will often foreshadow a larger fish. The wind over my head is leaving a patch of calm in front of me and dimples of hemp oil tell me something is about. I can wait. With the ash trees rushing in the overhead wind, right on cue the float cuts across the water and the tension and I pause and lean into a 4oz Rudd. Oh well.

Then for 30 minutes it goes quiet and time slows down as it does. I look at my watch and it’s hard to credit only 25 minutes have gone past. . Nevertheless I change to a small porcupine quill and a 6lb braid end with the size 12 'Jack Hilton' and 1xNo4 as the ‘tell-tale’. I get a small common right off with the more sensitive rig, then miss a bite. The sun has gone and with the edge off the light the edge goes onto the wind so I pitch the brolley to keep the chill out. With a softest of tones a text arrives from my youngest daughter wishing me a good dangle. I reply. Some think that phone has no place on the bank, but with a young family peace of mind is worth something – in silent running mode though I hasten to add. Incoming calls only as well.

A group of fieldfares have leaked into the trees opposite as if by osmosis and their steady check-check-chatter is just audible with the wind toward them. In groups they leapfrog up the filed from tree to tree. A forward party announces food is found and the whole flock converges on the bearer, denuding the leafless victim.

I tarried this morning with the rain on the windows putting me off – the forecast was better than it looked out of the window though and after tea and oatmeal (Mrs. JAA is working today) the clouds moved away and the sun fired me into getting some worms and out the door.

The fish now have fled with the sun it feels. I'm debating a large bunch of worms into the deeper water and a piece of silver foil. I'll see if after 40 minutes there is any change...of course the very word being written gets a bite, fast, which I inevitably miss. A 4oz carplet follows soon after.

Almost an hour has passed with a couple of slow bites which I miss. A squall has blown up, but the sun has joined it robbing it of it's sting. The height of the squall signalled a bite and a ½lb common. I'm still hoping for something larger, but still waiting also. The sun is back which helps – I'm certain this is helping today.

The sun has gone for good today, and the strong wind is now fish-tailing West/South-west. I missed a bite but waves are scudding through the float's position, making it harder to spot the movements that do not belong. A change to all corn hook bait for visibility yields a further ½lb common I can hear a magpie somewhere – except is a squirrel squawking its alarm call at something. Perhaps the wind in it's tree. Classic winter pattern for fishing, midday good, tailing off as the afternoon wears on. I leave the boat in its corner and the squirrel to its dudgeon – a good day for the time of year, but I'd nearly always catch fewer fish and larger, ungrateful that I am.