Swans, mink play havoc with fishing

THERE was a bit of autumn sunshine and I had some free time so I decided to go fishing.

I wanted something relaxing so I packed coarse fishing gear into the car, added a comfortable folding chair, and headed for a quiet place on the River Barrow.

As I was setting up my gear and throwing a little bait into the water to encourage the fish to start feeding everything looked peaceful and rather idyllic. It was a beautiful spot and there was nobody else around. I cast out and settled back into my chair. Then the trouble started.

First a family of swans sailed in to see what I was up to and whether I had any spare bread. There was a male, a female and three adolescent cygnets. I waited patiently – eventually they’d get bored and go away so that I could cast my float out again.

Unfortunately, when the cygnets got bored they started to play very rowdy games that involved chasing each other round in tight circles and beating their wings on the water. It was quite interesting to watch. The games were obviously designed to prepare them for future territorial fights. But the cygnets were nearly as big as the adults and the three of them created so much disturbance that the waves lapped over my boots and every fish within 50 metres went into hiding.

Eventually the cygnets paddled off on some adventure and the two adults drifted over to the far bank and started feeding on water weeds. There was peace for about 20 minutes. Then another swan, an adult, came flying low along the river, stuck its webbed feet out and water-skied to a halt in front of me. The two resident birds immediately puffed up their feathers, half raised their wings, extended their necks out in front and went into the attack.

The fight didn’t last long – four or five minutes, maybe. The intruder surrendered and flew off along the river. But by that time all the fish were back in their hiding places.

After the water calmed down again the three cygnets paddled back to see what all the fuss was about. When they rejoined their parents they did something rather charming that I’ve never observed before. They lined up in front of their mother and father, less than a metre from them, and started bowing. Each one ducked its head three or four times in front of the adults in a gesture that was obviously submissive but also appeared to be extremely polite.

Eventually the swans left me in peace and I caught a few small perch and put them in my keep net. This was what I’d come for. There is nothing quite as relaxing as concentrating fiercely on a little orange float, wondering if that slight quiver was caused by the wind or was going to develop into a sharp dip indicating that a fish had the bait in its mouth.

I was making up for lost time, feeding small amounts of bait into the water to build up the confidence of the fish after the traumas. It was slow enough, but I had a hunch things were starting to happen. I was staring intently at a spot about eight metres out from the bank.

Then my peripheral vision registered a small movement about 60 centimetres to the right of my right boot. And I heard a slight rustling noise. I glanced down and there, within touching distance, was a mink investigating my bait supplies.

I’m not generally nervous of wildlife, but this was so unexpected that I cursed and jumped out of the chair. Then the mink swam off and I went home.

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