On September 1st three trout were killed, weighing 1 lb. 5 oz., 1 lb. 9 oz., and 1 lb. 2 oz.
On the 4th two, weighing 1¾ lb. and 1 lb. 10 oz.
On the 11th the vane stood due west, the sky was lowering, and rain fell at intervals, but a straight stick umbrella sufficed to keep one dry, and tied to the landing net handle when not in use, is far more convenient to carry than heavy waterproofs, which at best are heating and uncomfortable. I recommend fly-fishers to try it. Above the G.W. railway arch, on the broad shallows and past the “plantation,” grayling (only in recent years introduced) seem at last to have made their headquarters, and from eleven o’clock to three p.m. three were unavoidably hooked and returned, for the lessee of the fishery, Mr. J. E. B. C——, wishes them not to be taken at present, so that they may live to increase and multiply. But a leash of trout were caught and creeled during the time. And as the morning rise was nearly over I slowly retraced my steps, observant of any break of the surface of the water; climbed the steep railway bank, crossed over the bridge, passed down the line for a long distance to the stile, and resumed the rod on the Winnall side, where, from the last meadow bounded by the ditch, two more trout were killed, making up 2½ brace, scaling 6 lb. 6 oz. On my way I noticed a profusion of the coral-like hips of the wild rose, haws on the hedges, scarlet viscid berries on yew-trees, and beautiful clusters or cymes of clear red berries like currants on the water elder; also amongst many other wild flowers, scabious, candy-tuft, corn cockle, yellow foxglove, clover, ragwort, &c., and, standing erect, Lysimachia vulgaris.
On the 16th a fine trout weighing 1 lb. 14 oz. was hooked and landed when it was almost too dark to see where one’s fly fell.
On the 19th the wind was northeast, and therefore unfavourable; added to which in the upper half of the water mudding out was being done by one man, while another, in a ballast boat, poled it up and down laden with chalk to repair the banks. This not only disturbed the stream, but coloured it, and I was about to forego fishing, in despair, when, looking back as far as I could see clearly, fish were rising. By a wide détour I carefully got below them, and at once noticed that they were feeding on nymphæ and sub-imago flies, and the water there was less turbid, indeed during the men’s dinner-hour it cleared. By two o’clock two trout, weighing 2 lb. 1 oz. and 1 lb. 6 oz., were tempted to their fate by my red quill fly, and another soon after, 1½ lb. In the evening, after sunset, two more were killed, 1 lb. 7 oz. and 1 lb. 9 oz.
On the 27th five were drawn to net, and weighed by steelyard as soon as landed, and in the order of capture, 1 lb. 14 oz., 1 lb. 7 oz., 1 lb. 2 oz., 1 lb. 9 oz., and 1 lb. 5 oz. As the shadows made by the declining sun were lengthening swallows were congregating high in the air, looking like mere specks, and also many were swooping over the smooth river, snatching with unerring sight from its surface midges and black gnats; and yet not so later on at dusk, for a house-martin seized my artificial fly as it was being whirled in the air in the act of casting, and was fast hooked at the point of the beak, wildly fluttering in alarm until wound in to the top ring of the rod, there very tenderly handled, caressed, and released—not much pained or damaged.
On the 29th, after a stormy night, when a great number of eels were caught in the large iron grating trap at Durngate Mill, through which the main stream can be strained—a deadly device—I made no attempt to fish until after luncheon, when in no hopeful mood as to sport (for thunderclouds were gathering in the distance as black as ink, and a few premonitory big drops of rain were falling) I waited on the east bank watching for any movement. A trout rose under the opposite side and sucked in a natural fly. Many times my lure was presented, with occasional intervals between. At last he rose to it and fastened, fighting well, but a losing battle, and was soon brought to grass, weighing 1 lb. 7 oz. In the evening, when the weather had somewhat cleared, I went along the west side as far as the Spring Garden lower hatch, to make a last attempt to catch a goodly trout I had often observed and cast over. He fed close to a mass of green tussock grass overhanging the water, and under which was his haunt when idle. The set of the stream round the wide bend of the river brought floating ephemeridæ, trichoptera and nocturnal lepidoptera to the tussock, often touching and even clinging to its blades trailing on the surface; the wily fish therefore invariably took up one and the same position when hungry, opening his mouth wide to receive the tempting morsels. It was difficult for a dry fly to be placed in front of him by the most skilful angler, for his hook so often caught on the grass, which was tough, and in pulling the gut broke. I much coveted that fish, and did not like to be beaten. I had, therefore, a few days previously resorted to the expedient of having the huge tussock grubbed up and taken away entirely.
Approaching him now on tiptoe with the utmost circumspection, I knelt within a long casting distance of where he was rising, intently intercepting brown sedgeflies. I changed the small fly I had on for a red quill on No. 1 hook, and sent it forward over him in a line with the natural flies. No notice was taken of it; nor again and again, until, when a puff of wind diverted it to the right, he moved after it, and with an audible snap, and instant spring out of water, hooked himself. For several minutes an exciting time for me followed, and fatal for him, as he was netted out and killed—a beautifully marked fish, weighing 1 lb. 13 oz.
On the 30th, the last day of the trout season of 1905, an excellent finish was made in a few hours by the capture of three trout, weighing respectively 1½, 1¾ and 2¼ lb.
At foot is a concise statement of the above described sport—not so good as in many former seasons; but to kill an excessive number of fish, especially on a private fishery, is no longer the object of a dry-fly purist and sportsman. And it will be noticed that on most days I have only fished for a few hours, yet quite enough for pastime and recreation, and the full enjoyment of Nature’s many attractions while wandering by the peaceful river.