fossil-fish
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The Perfect TakeI have just experienced the perfect take. Drizzly Saturday night at Woodford. Whole lake to myself, two hours until dark. I am at the top end fishing two buzzers on a 12' copolymer leader on a floating line. A stiff North Westerly breeze is blowing from my left hand side, very slightly towards me. I cast across and with the wind. Not far, I don't do far. The wind holds the line tight and bowing away from me towards the right hand corner. I do not feel the need to retrieve, just a slight taking up of the tension. My mind wanders, my thoughts are elsewhere and my head has turned away from the water. The take is an electrifying shock, violent in it's suddeness. There is no time to strike or lift, it happened and the fish is either there or gone. This time the pull just continues and the rod has bent, there is a pulsing and writhing of something strong and alive to which you are now attached. There was no visual indication or stimulus at all. Purely tactile.
Later on at the bottom end I am fishing the calm water with my usual little c.d.c. shuttlecocks. A fish rises, head first, a beautiful rolling take and I time the lift correctly and he is on. There is no nicer way to fish, but nothing compares to the shocking, heart stopping violence of that buzzer take.
Until of course, the next perfect take.  
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