by Keith Tailby
I had fished this particular Colne Valley gravel pit for tench, on and off, for a couple of years without any success at all. Everyday I watched enormous, black tails wave in the breeze as monster tench rolled in my swim, but I couldn't buy a bite. At least not from a tench -a single unwanted carp had picked up my bait in the middle of one night. It had convinced me for a moment or two that I'd finally hooked my target fish but a couple of powerful runs soon dispelled that idea and shortly afterwards a 12lb common lay in the landing net. Right size - wrong species. Damn!.
I developed the habit of positioning my bivvy so I could watch the lake and
would set my phone alarm to wake me at first light. Then I would watch for signs
of tench without having to get out of my nice warm sleeping bag. Most mornings
there were plenty of tench to be seen, along with a few crashing carp and the
occasional grass snake swimming past, but one particular morning in early August
will remain with me for a long time to come........
I arrived at the fishery a little later than usual and as my favourite swims were already taken, I chose a swim on the opposite side of the lake between two large patches of bramble bushes. In fact, the bivvy was almost completely encircled by brambles with just a small gap for the rods and a narrow pathway into my 'camp'. I quickly found a couple of promising gravels bars and positioned my baits accordingly. A few spod-fulls of mixed particles around each hookbait completed the trap and I retired to the bivvy hoping that the bite-alarms would signal some action before the night was over.
As usual, however, it was not to be. Not a single bleep was heard until my phone woke me at 4am to watch the usual dawn tench 'display'. The fish in this lake, although hard to catch, were certainly not shy of showing themselves. I'd already seen several big tench roll over my baits when I heard a loud rustling sound from the brambles on my left. The rustling was getting closer and, after a few moments a large brown bunny burst from the brambles and crouched between my rods, panting heavily, before diving into the bushes on my right. It's brief visit reminded me of a scene from Alice in Wonderland.... "I'm late, I'm late. For a very important date!".
Ten seconds or so after the obviously frightened rabbit had gone, more rustling came from the undergrowth on the left and soon a large mink appeared. It paused between my rods just like the rabbit had done a few moments earlier and sniffed the air. I had never seen a mink at such close quarters before. It looked straight at me lying in my sleeping bag only five feet away, then it shot off to the right in pursuit of the rabbit. I fully expected to hear the squeal of a dying rabbit at any moment, but when I hadn't heard anything after a couple of minutes I returned to watching the rolling tench. A particularly big tailfin broke surface slightly beyond my baited area and I was mentally encouraging the fish to pick up a hookbait when the rabbit suddenly reappeared from the right, paused for a second or two, then dived through my bivvy doorway and under the bedchair that I was lying on!
Before I could react the inevitable happened........ Mr Mink reappeared, looked
me straight in the eye.......... then followed Mr Bunny through the door and
under my bed! Again, I expected to hear the death squeal of a dying rabbit,
but all I heard was...............silence. Not a squeak!
After two or three minutes of hearing nothing, I realised that I was in a bit
of a predicament - I was stuck in a bivvy with a hunting mink, wearing nothing
on my feet, the nearest angler was a hundred yards down the bank - definitely
out of earshot - and my mobile was somewhere under the bedchair in a mink killing-zone.
I definitely didn't fancy putting my vulnerable feet onto the groundsheet just
inches from a hungry mink and it's prey! In fact, I was a stuck !!!!
Just as these thoughts were forming, the problem seemed to solve itself as
the mink emerged just a foot away from my face and went out of the bivvy door.
I could just see it's shadow silhouetted again the morning sun as it bounded
around the outside of the Titan. The rabbit must have found it's way out at
the back, between the groundsheet and the main bivvy skin. "Thank goodness
for separate groundsheets!", I thought...........Wrong!
Before I could collect my thoughts again, the mink was back at the doorway. Another pause to look straight at me, then dived back underneath my bed. This time I could hear some heavy breathing (from both me and the rabbit) and then a scuffling and loud squealing as the mink finally managed to locate the rabbit amongst the fishing gear stashed under my bedchair. Then it it all went quiet again.
After another minute or two I plucked up the courage to lean over the edge of my bed and peer beneath. Not eighteen inches away were a pair of beady mink-eyes, staring at me with it's jaws firmly clamped around the rabbit's throat. I quickly withdrew my face and pondered what to do now that I had a hungry mink guarding it's kill sharing my accomodation! Another rolling tench caught my attention and I wondered if I dare make a dash for the rods if I finally got the long-awaited run......... and what would it be like trying to play a probable PB tench with an angry mink firmly attached to one ankle? ........Not good!
In the event Mr Mink solved the problem for me by abandoning his prize and diving back into the brambles. I was out of the sleeping bag and off down the bank in seconds, I can tell you! Legging it down to the next angler, I gave him a quick version of the past ten minutes' events and dragged him back to witness the dead bunny rabbit as evidence. He was more than a little bemused at my sudden appearance, especially as I had neglected to put on any trousers, but together we made our way back to my encampment where I duly pointed out the.............missing rabbit! What the....?!
The dead rabbit was gone........ I was confused...........and the other angler was more than a little sceptical!
He watched doubtfully as I dragged my bedchair out of the bivvy to point out where the rabbit had been. Thankfully, there was some evidence to back up my dubious tale - some bloody drag marks and tufts of bunny-fur where the action had happened. The cunning bugger must have watched me leave before dragging his prize off somewhere more secluded before eating it.......!
Either that..... or perhaps I had started sacrificing small furry animals in a black magic attempt to get the tench to bite?
....... I never did get a tench from that lake!!!!