As the national lockdown continues for the vast majority of anglers, save for the lucky few who reside within two kilometres of the sea, a river or a lake, I continue this week with a selection of tales from Tom Quinn’s collection of fascinating stories from his book Fishing’s Strangest Days.
England, 1893. It’s quite common in London to see geese flying overhead, or swans. Along the Thames herons now stalk the shallows and various wildlife bodies tell us that owls roost in Parliament Square while kestrels hover above the Commercial Road.
However, a local newspaper once carried a report of a far more surprising wildlife encounter in Kensington.
A gentleman was walking home from work up Kensington Church Street when he was struck by what was described as “a terrific blow to the side of the head”. In fact, the bump was so hard that it knocked him out and he was taken to hospital.
A witnesses who helped the injured man into a local house, where brandy was administered, described a circumstance that almost certainly accounted for the knockout blow.
When he had run up to the unconscious man he spotted a large fish lying on the pavement nearby. Being a fisherman he knew it was not the sort of fish one buys at a fishmonger’s. It was in fact a roach – a common freshwater fish, but completely inedible.
As he assisted the man in removing his coat he noticed something very odd indeed. The injured man’s head and the shoulder of his coat were dusted here and there with fish scales. The scales were without question from the dead roach that had been found at the scene.
When the newspaper compiled its report on the incident they quoted a professor of zoology as saying that the man was almost certainly felled by a roach dropped by a passing bird, possibly a heron or cormorant.
Curiously, the paper noted with glee, the injured man – who made a full recovery – was called Mr Chub.
Lucky strike on the lough
Ireland, 1898. John Bickerdyke, a well-known Victorian fisherman, was staying in a remote Irish hotel towards the end of the 19th century. One evening his landlord needed to go out on the lough to catch fish for their guests’ supper. Bickerdyke begged to join the search for trout and the landlord agreed to lend him one of his boats.
Leaving the landlord to fish a little bay, Bickerdyke set off to a distant corner of the lough, where he had often seen large trout rising.
It took some 20 minutes to reach the chosen spot, and by that time a slight ripple, which might have helped, died away. As he reached his fishing ground he heard distant thunder rumbling along the mountains.
Then happened one of the strangest things he had ever seen in his life. A few spots of rain began to fall and with them came vast swarms of small black flies. Hardly had these touched the water than, all around, enormous trout began to show themselves with their back fins out of the water.
The water was literally boiling with wild brown trout, the smallest of which Bickerdyke estimated at 6lb, the biggest well over 10lb. Their writhing antics seemed to cover every inch of the water in every direction.
Bickerdyke, shaking with excitement, was convinced he would land a basketful, but despite all his efforts not one fish would look at his flies.
He began to think that he was doomed to failure; but then, when he had given up all hope, a massive fish rose, took his fly and lunged for the bottom of the lake.
Bickerdyke said later that he had never fought such a battle before and never been so terrified of losing a fish. But luck was with him and soon the giant fish, which weighed a little over 10lb, was in the net.
In that instant, as if on some invisible signal, the lough surface died to quiet and the exceptional rise was over.
Specimen fish of the week
The latest edition of the Irish Specimen Fish Report includes all recorded specimen fish caught in Ireland during 2019. Each week I look forward to highlighting a selection of these special achievements.
In May, Oisín MacDomhnaill caught a twaite shad of 52.5cm while spinning a Tasmanian Devil on the River Barrow, Co Carlow.
angling@irishtimes.com
