Kerplunk… Strawberry warfare had begun.
The hair rig with a Strawberry 15mm boilie splashed down into the calm, cold, and clear water. The PVA mesh, filled with other Strawberry comrades, were deposited somewhere near the initial landing site, but as stragglers do, became separated from the main element, as the line was ever-so-slightly tightened.
With the line now under tension, I engaged the baitrunner drag on the Shimano Reel and attached the bite ring indicator to the fishing line above the first anti-tangle gunsmoke 50mm ring on my Fox Horizon Gen 3 rod; the second setup was casted and the same sequence ensued.
Now scanning the far edge of the oxbow lake, where both baits lay motionless, the view became obscured as the early morning steam rose from the mirror like water viewscape. The grayed-out tree branches and winter-detritused brush and bushes that dotted the bank, painted a dreary setting, like one out of a horror movie, as the woody scenery stood lifeless, dull, and bleak. Coupled with a handful of crows scattered atop several branches – calling out as if discussing how to lure this dumb fisherman deeper into the foreboding woods – the view was merged from an early morning March carp fishing session to a haunted forest; not a shade of green. The overcast skies also played their part, hiding any and all evidence of the sun or blue skies. A perfect backdrop for the emanation of battle, a Carp battle.
Settling my early morning sleep-deprived mind, I refocused now on the bait box, where my small bait catapult lay atop a heap of candy-coated warriors. I grabbed a handful and poured them into the awaiting ballistic bucket. Once the payload was full, I pulled back on the elastic band and took aim.
I released, and all at once, just like the start of a medieval siege, I began breaching the carp fortifications as the deadly strawberry airborne units rained down from above. Over and over again, the tiny fruity projectiles peppered onto the area, with full scented effect. With munitions running low, the battle tempo eased and ceased all at once.
The ripples from the assault slowly dissipated across the water and soon, the water was absorbed into complete stillness again. I slumped down into my chair with my coffee thermos in hand and began sipping away, staving off the waves of drowsiness. Over the sound of coffee sipping, I began to notice the emergence of several birds (non-Crows), and at once the forested lake scape erupted into a cascading tune of songs. Eurasian Hoopes, Common Redstarts, and Great Tits made their long-awaited arrival known, chirping and singing to boast of their dominant perched nesting sites.
A Pheasant somewhere off in the distant marshy hollows cackled, and several pairs of Ducks swung into view, like a twin pair of fighter jets, swooping down to make a landing. Approach good, flaps at full – sounds of the air whistling past their feathered wings as they adjusted for lift and drag, the steep descent on view right in front of me. Splashing down on their webbed landing gear – two tailfeather shakes and a couple quacks later; they were already feeding on the water’s edge.
Suddenly from the corner of my vision, I saw one of the bite rings drop. Adrenaline spiked as I focused on the near rod, anticipating an escalation in events. However, nothing more happened. The only remnants of the recent development were the reverberating, rhythmic swaying’s of the bite ring, slowly coming to rest.
Silence. A couple minutes had gone by and nothing more happened. I began to give up hope. Something had either bumped my line, or a smaller fish had perhaps made contact with the nearby air-dropped reinforcements, the strawberry projectiles, but after coming into contact with these red-uniformed freebies, the size of these 15mm battle tested treats caused a fishy retreat.
Leaning back into the chair and expecting the next hour or so to go by uneventfully, I began to let my mind wonder. Why did I wake up so early? 4:00AM alarm? Carrying all the gear to the car? Setup time, and what about when I decide to call it a day? The packing up time? All of this and no fish to the net. I was seriously reconsidering my choice in hobbies.
Suddenly as I was contemplating reeling in, the near rod started screaming with drag. I pounced off the chair and lunged towards the rod. The rod was doubled over with such force; the rodpod was sliding off the bank towards the water. Grabbing hold and making that first full rotation of the reel, clicking home the fighting drag, and the battle began.
Contact.
The sweet-scented saboteurs had finally done it. The strawberry undercover underwater agents had successfully laid the trap that the carp had so eagerly sprung. I battled the carp for almost 10 minutes before I was able to force the beast up and into my deployed net. Hoisting up the catch and transporting it to the mat, I noticed that the barbless hook had already popped out. To my amazement, the Strawberry boilie was still attached to the hair rig.
A couple photos latter and after catching my breath, I slowly released the slimmy monster back into the cold water. With a quick and powerful caudal fin thrust, it sped off into the depths, back to base and back to the safety of his layer.
The feeling of success flooded my caffeine infused body and sitting there under the songs of the springtime birds, I looked over at my second rod. The bite ring began to sink as my line went slack.
Incoming.
Strawberry warfare.
