Queue for fish
This, alas, is the psychology of a fisherman: he always gazes at an already occupied place. I saw something similar this winter on the Gulf of Finland near Vyborg ...
As soon as the popular rumor reported that in the Gulf of Finland large roach "went" in schools, hundreds of fishermen rushed there for the coveted prey. Word of mouth was broadcasting from one fisherman to another: they say, last week someone caught so much, another - so much, the third - even more. And, as a rule, clearly exaggerated figures were called. True, this is a common thing for anglers. And everyone, thirsty for a good catch, reasoning something like this: "Why am I worse," hurried to the reservoir, hoping to take part in a fishing feast.
Despite the fact that the frost was not less than twenty degrees, and a strong north wind, driving the seemingly endless drift across the ice, dozens of fishermen poured out of the carriages like peas and, without hesitation, moved to the bay. The most impatient and newcomers settled down directly opposite the station, not far from the coast. And the majority rushed further, to their cherished places.
Gradually, the fishermen dispersed: the main part remained in the vast bay (including me), the rest settled on the open part of the bay five hundred meters further. Having drilled holes and lowered the tackle in them, the anglers were looking forward to bites. But, alas, there were no bites or trophies.
Instead of the coveted large roach, we occasionally came across roach, ruff and little-finger-sized okushka. And in vain the fishermen watched each other vigilantly - the solid roach did not take.
- Probably, the north wind is to blame, - suggested my neighbor to the left. - Or a severe frost, - the other angler continued his thought.
... Immediately other versions followed immediately, justifying the barking. This continued until the fisherman passing by us on the move did not throw: - While you are sharpening your fringes here, that fisherman in a green overalls, - he gestured to the exit from the bay, - is dragging a very decent roach!
The fishermen looked at each other and fell silent. A few minutes later, my neighbor on the left got up from the box and, as if not addressing anyone, explained:
- I'll probably go and see what's what ...
But for some reason I went to "look" with a fishing rod and a box.
And although, from the place where we were, it was difficult to see the fisherman in the green overalls, it was clear that an increasingly dense mass of fishermen was concentrating around him. Unable to bear it, I went there too. But no tackle, just for the sake of curiosity.
Even on the way to the hole, where the guy in the green overalls was fishing, I saw a painfully familiar picture: a lot of people who wanted to share the success with him gathered around the successful fisherman. Moreover, those who came later than others, drilled holes literally half a meter from him. And he really did bite! He regularly pulled a weighty roach out of the hole.
Seeing that the environment was about to come close to him, the guy in the green overalls got up from the box and, addressing everyone, suggested:
- Guys, let's go without a bazaar. Sit in my seat, take my rod and fish. Only on one condition: caught a fish, give way to another. In short, get in line.
As it turned out, he caught the oatmeal on the jig, and planted the larva with a burdock moth on the hook. And this amazing fishing began ... The owner of the fishing rod gave out one larva for each bait. And, interestingly, despite the fact that each angler had his own way of playing with a jig, the bite did not weaken.
Someone managed to catch two roach, someone one, and some had not yet reached their turn, when a guy in a green overalls said:
- All the guys, the fishing is over, since the nozzle is no longer there, - and for persuasiveness, showed the audience an empty box from under the burdock moth. - What is the secret of your hole? - asked one of the people around. - I fed the hole with burdock moth larvae, so the roach only takes on it. Yes, and I have a corresponding jig, ”the lucky fisherman explained, closing the box.
Raising his fist, he said loudly: "Chao, gentlemen!" and whistling merrily, he headed for the shore.
After he left, fishing on his hole continued ... But without the previous success. Maybe because no one had a burdock moth, or maybe a large fish went to another place, or maybe a guy in a green overalls took his luck with him. So the secret of the hole (if it was, of course) remained unsolved.