Angling

Lobworms have been difficult to procure, but patient searching has not been unrewarded.

Angling, in my judgment, says old Isaac, deserves to be commended, naively adding in effect that there are no practices that deserve commendation but may be justified.

Sir Henry Wotton, one of Walton's piscatorial friends, used to tell him, Angling was, after tedious study, a rest to the mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diversion of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness, and that it begot habits of peace and patience in those that practiced it.

But contemplation may do for warmer days when sport is uncertain.

Action and brisk sport are necessary to proper enjoyment in the chillier days of March.

Lobworms have been difficult to procure, but patient searching has not been unrewarded.

Angling, in my judgment, says old Isaac, deserves to be commended, naively adding in effect that there are no practices that deserve commendation but may be justified.

Sir Henry Wotton, one of Walton's piscatorial friends, used to tell him, Angling was, after tedious study, a rest to the mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diversion of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness, and that it begot habits of peace and patience in those that practised it.

But contemplation may do for warmer days, when sport is uncertain.

Action and brisk sport are necessary to proper enjoyment in the chillier days of March.

Now remember, if you missed any of the show this week, it's always just a click away at Bassmaster.com forward slash radio.

Or just visit Bassmaster.com, click on the Anglers page, and you'll see Sonar.

Bassmaster Radio listed there.

Bassmaster Radio is also available at sportsbyline.com and all major platforms, including Spotify, TuneIn, and more.

After another cup of tea and another interesting chat, we take our leave, hoping to revisit Broadland in the blustering month of March.

End of chapter 2 Chapter 3 of Man and Nature on the Broads by Arthur Henry Patterson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain March in Broadland Let me live harmlessly and near the reedy brink of Broadland waters Have a neat thatched dwelling-place Where I may see my dancing quill or cork down sink With eager bite of bold bright perch or rudd or dace Adapted from Walton Spring is now but a short way off us And between the bursts of wintry weather Which the storm king flings over the face of nature She essays to put on a cheery smile In one of these sunnier moods of nature We are tempted to venture broadwards For a turn amongst the perch For our lines and rods have been idle these many months And perch are becoming hungry Lobworms have been difficult to procure But patient searching has not been unrewarded Angling, in my judgment, says old Isaac Deserves to be commended Naively adding, in effect, that There are no practices that deserve commendation But may be justified Sir Henry Wootton, one of Walton's piscatorial friends Used to tell him Angling was, after tedious study A rest to the mind A cheerer of his spirits A diversion of sadness A calmer of unquiet thoughts A moderator of passions A procurer of contentedness And that it begot habits of peace and patience In those that practised it But contemplation may do for warmer days When sport is uncertain Action and brisk sport are necessary To proper enjoyment in the chillier days of March There is pleasure in preparation And in the very anticipation of it We are, in a very short time Whirled from the busy town Into the heart of Broadland We noted little difference in the fields And market gardens through which we were hurried Certainly the farm labourers Seemed somewhat busier than in February For the sowing of oats and barley Is claiming the attention of the farmer The strange antics of a lad in one field Did attract our notice But we were beyond him ere we could make much out of him It was evident the proceedings of a crowd of great birds That blackened the field Were not to his satisfaction And to frighten these away Was undoubtedly his intent As we wend our way through a lane We witness the selfsame thing repeated And upon the light wind Is borne a noisy clapping sound And the words of a strange weird ditty Cadders and crows Take care of your toes For here come the clappers To knock you down backwards So hello Coo It may be that the sable birds Are laying claim to a few of the seeds that Fell by the wayside As their ancestors did in the days When the god-man taught the people in parables Christ was a keen observer of bird life And who can say that he did not teach Many a lesson from their ways and doings That are not recorded in the book Seeing us lagging by the gateway The crow boy sidles up And wishes us the seal of the day Accompanying a rough clumsy bow With a good-humoured grin With an eye open to a largesse The Norfolk equivalent to the eastern bakshish He allows us to examine the grotesque implement Which is supposed to put terror into the hearts of the so-called crows Which are in reality nothing more than harmless grub-eating rooks We find it constructed of three pieces of thin wood, oblong in shape, the centre one being lengthened into a handle.

The two outer pieces are loosely tied by strings at their lower ends, which go through a couple of holes in each.

When shaken, a loud rattling sound is produced.

After another cup of tea and another interesting chat, we take our leave, hoping to revisit Broadland in the blustering month of March.

End of chapter 2 Chapter 3 of Man and Nature on the Broads by Arthur Henry Patterson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain March in Broadland Let me live harmlessly and near the reedy brink of Broadland waters Have a neat thatched dwelling-place Where I may see my dancing quill or cork down sink With eager bite of bold bright perch or rudd or dace Adapted from Walton Spring is now but a short way off us And between the bursts of wintry weather Which the storm king flings over the face of nature She essays to put on a cheery smile In one of these sunnier moods of nature We are tempted to venture broadwards For a turn amongst the perch For our lines and rods have been idle these many months And perch are becoming hungry Lobworms have been difficult to procure But patient searching has not been unrewarded Angling, in my judgment, says old Isaac Deserves to be commended Naively adding in effect that There are no practices that deserve commendation But may be justified Sir Henry Wootton, one of Walton's piscatorial friends Used to tell him Angling was, after tedious study A rest to the mind A cheerer of his spirits A diversion of sadness A calmer of unquiet thoughts A moderator of passions A procurer of contentedness And that it begot habits of peace and patience In those that practised it But contemplation may do for warmer days When sport is uncertain Action and brisk sport are necessary To proper enjoyment in the chillier days of March There is pleasure in preparation And in the very anticipation of it We are, in a very short time Whirled from the busy town Into the heart of Broadland We noted little difference in the fields And market gardens through which we were hurried Certainly the farm labourers Seemed somewhat busier than in February For the sowing of oats and barley Is claiming the attention of the farmer The strange antics of a lad in one field Did attract our notice But we were beyond him Ere we could make much out of him It was evident The proceedings of a crowd of great birds That blackened the field Were not to his satisfaction And to frighten these away Was undoubtedly his intent As we wend our way through a lane We witness the selfsame thing repeated And upon the light wind is borne a noisy clapping sound and the words of a strange, weird ditty.

Catters and crows, take care of your toes, for here come the clappers to knock you down backwards.

So hello, caw-oo.

We have travelled in pleasant company.

A brace of well-clad fishermen, armed with the insignia of their craft, are bent on trying the case of Angler versus Esox Lucius, for the freshwater shark of our reedy lagoons has yielded to the cravings of hunger and come out from his lair in the reed bed in search of small fry for breakfast.

As we trudge along by the naked hedgerows, there is no lack of pleasant chat.

The Broadland angler is more than half a naturalist, and there is much that calls for remark when more than one pair of eyes are keenly alert to the sights and sounds which continuously present themselves, even at so gloomy a season.

Obviously, this is a very risky stage for the insect.

So how is this relevant to fly fishing? Eric Leiser and Robert Boyle pointed out in their great book Stoneflies for the Anglers how when stoneflies molt, their exoskeleton is soft and often light-colored.

They call this the white nymph.

Entomologists call this a teneral stage.