Perch

Hi
I read an interesting article on the web the other day concerning the Perch. The author of the piece reckoned that old stripey is the most obliging fish around when it comes to breaking records. His observations are that when it comes to other species of fish only a small number of known venues are capable of producing a new record. Where as with the perch a new record is liable to turn up anywhere and might be caught by anyone.

Apparently several large perch and here I'm talking fish over 5lbs, have been caught in recent times. Not all of these where caught by well known or even expert anglers either so there is probably a lot of sense in what he's saying. If you want to read the whole thing I will leave you a link at the bottom of this post.

Anyway, I had to agree that the Perch is a very obliging fish and was responsible for the first real fight I had as a young angler. The encounter came on the small river Sow (pronounced like a female pig) near my hometown in Stafford. The place was below a beauty spot called Shakey Bridges, this is where lots of Stafford people spent their summer's paddling and picnicking during the fifties and sixties.

I was about eleven at the time and it was my first trip to the river with my father, up until then my fishing had been confined to a couple of sessions up the local pit where I caught a few tiddly Roach and some Gudgeon. The first couple of hours on the river were uneventful but I ended up catching a big Perch. It put up quite a struggle on my small rod and bent it almost double.

I would have liked to say that I unhooked the fish and put it back into the water but as soon as my dad clapped eyes on it, he decided that he'd have it for his breakfast the next day. I can still remember him getting his rod licence out of his pocket and using it to measure the length of my fish to see if it was big enough to take.

It seems strange nowadays because we wouldn't even think about taking a course fish home to eat, but in the sixties things were different. They even put a inch measure, like a paper ruler, on the rod licence and a list telling you how long each species of fish must be before it could be legally taken from the water.

Anyway my fish was big enough so it went into my dad's knapsack. This ended up being a real waste of a good fish and I'll tell you why. But before I do that let me tell you that my father was a lovely man in many ways but he was apt to going off like a bottle of shaken pop, which he did on the day in question.

When we got home he took the Perch out of his knapsack then strode down the garden and threw it at a cow that was grazing in the field. The Perch hit the bewildered creature smack in the middle of the forehead and he must've wondered what the hell was going on as my dad shouted at the top of his voice, "and I hope your bloody tits fester."

You can read about what brought on my father's anger in my second angling book which will be published later this year. A sample download of my newly published book, "Fishing: Learn from the Tips & Laugh at the Tales," is available on my website.
Free sample download and book details.
Note, if anybody has any photos of Shakey Bridges I'd love to hear from them.

I will talk a bit more about the Perch in my next post,for now here is the link to the one I read on the gofishing website.

Link to the gofishing website

Sorry if the none fishing readers of this blog feel they are missing out but writing and Scotland will feature heavily in my next post.