I should have bought a lottery ticket last weekend:
- Trying to get our toddler to sleep Sunday lunchtime, I stumbled upon a fully white (leucistic) blackbird near home – the odds of this genetic mutation are 1 in 30,000.
- I also snagged my second Dorset 5lber this year, obliterating my previous PB by several ounces – I’m not sure of the odds, but you don’t see many of them!
On Saturday’s low tide, I bounced a bait in a shallow area I’ve often completely overlooked. A quick and delicate twang on the tip signalled somebody was home, though they’d avoided the hook… A stronger rattle led me to recast and I reeled in to find I’d been robbed. Fully expecting to be pestered by a cocky corkwing on the next cast, I was in mild disbelief when the rod tip jagged a foot towards the water – BANG!
Still burning from the loss of an unseen lump last month, I gave the fish no ground; I couldn’t risk losing another. I bullied the fish off the seabed, but it was soon power-diving over a clump of sharp boulders, somehow causing an incredibly tight clutch to tick over. Cupping the spool tightly, I put all my faith in the rod and line and didn’t give an inch.
Dad crept into position with the landing net and we both steadied ourselves in the breeze, unconsciously holding our breath, as a big orange male bobbed up and charged into the net… I’d nonchalantly put the fish at four pounds plus, but when Dad began lifting the net it was clear the fish had far greater proportions than your average four-pounder. He weighed in at 5lb 13oz and obliterated my PB by several ounces.
… I thought my fire for wrasse might diminish after I caught my first five-pounder in the summer (I’d hit my own silly target, after all) but it looks like that won’t be the case… I’m not done with ballan wrasse, and it looks like they’re not done with me, either.
