Fishing From the Point of View of a Woman

So, fishing from the point of view of a woman. Personally, I only know one such woman - with me. Therefore, generalizations, unfortunately, will not work. Although the women, temporarily carried away by the maelstrom of mass excitement, have seen.

I do not think that women are more adventurous than men. They just show their emotions more strongly, as in many sports. The broken fish can sometimes bring it to tears (a man just curses or smokes ... silently). Drawn the same fish often gives rise to joyful cries, cries and desire: more! Then suddenly the excitement disappears, and the woman switches to more familiar things - cleaning the fish and cooking it.

I did not see a single woman, until night in a pile of mosquitoes, standing in the water (sitting in a boat) while fishing. I do not know such women, who at five in the morning pull the first catch. Decent women spend the night at home.

The luck of women in fishing can be explained by the luck of the rookie in the rookie. I saw it myself. I approached, threw up what was given (concepts such as reconnaissance of terrain, features of tackle, casting, bait to her are unknown, and are not interesting).

And immediately he cuts and throws a large fish over the tree (!). And around the man sit, empty and angry. Well, how can I explain this? We call it the female intuition - to throw at the right time in the right place. They also catch men (joke).

What makes women different from men? Personally, I, considering myself in the main mass of women as an old fisherman, never caught anything particularly big, and did not aspire. I do not have an ambitious idea of ​​pulling a 20 kg catfish. Maybe someday ... But it's not necessary for my self-affirmation - I'm already quite good.

What else? A pronounced phobia to some types of bait. Do not let women catch on the spoil or somebody's grub. Let him sit and catch on the dough, or, at the most, on the clean worm (planted by you). Here is an example - winter fishing. Imagine your wife, sitting all day in the cold in the company of a bottle of whiskey, which, cursing indecent words, tries to remove slippery fish in the cold with bare hands!

Random fish №1

I'm sitting somehow, catching small perch. The schoolgirl still. Pond in the park near the house. Heat. The float does not move for an hour. I'm sitting on the bridge, pecking my nose and falling asleep. Then suddenly I open my eyes - the float is lying!

As a schoolgirl is not easy (I was taught to catch by my father, a passionate angler myself), I immediately realized that it was bream. Well, not the carp, the carp in this pond is only a few pieces, it's unlikely. But how fishermen caught bream - this I saw more than once. Immediately woke up: what to do? How to catch bream?

Fishing From the Point of View of a Woman

And the float lies and twitches. I immediately imagined how, at the bottom, a cunning bream with long lips sucked a worm: my nerves could not stand, and I jerked the rod!

And, to the surprise: he cut it ... a kilogram by 2. How he rested! And stood sideways, and fought and burst, but I persistently withstood the onslaught (the line was 0.3) and dragged the tired fish to the shore. He lies to himself by the water, I come up and with horror I see that the line is separate, the hook is separate (in the lip).

It is clear who tied! Then my bream realized what was what, and made a jump to the water, and I went into the water. She fell on him with all her body and pulled her onto the grass. He had blood gone from the gills, and then I cried for an hour, the bream became a pity to me. He did not climb into the tank; he had to bear proudly in his hands. More in life, I did not catch a single bream.

Random fish №2

I'm sitting somehow. There, only on the next pond. I catch roach on the dough. On the bridge there is a bamboo rod. Silence. It's boring.

And then, in complete silence, the fishing pole disappears with lightning speed in the water. After a while, it appears in the middle of the pond (and the pond is not small) and begins to swim back and forth. To the shore, of course, is not suitable.

It was already autumn and I did not swim very much then. And the hour was tormented, until one kind person, asking me to turn away, did not swim behind the rod and did not throw him to the shore with the words: "Pull you self!".

Long I struggled with an unknown large fish, until on the surface did not seem tired carp kilograms by 2.5 (they were bred there). Like any carp, he quickly got tired of his races. I took it out with difficulty. For a long time he whispered something on the shore with thick lips. Again it was awfully sorry. That's when I first released my fish back to the lake.

Many years have passed, and sometimes I dream about how a fishing rod runs vertically along the water, with a white breaker. Who else was it? That's how it crashed into memory! More than one carp in my life I did not catch.

Random fish №3

It was in a water campaign, a few years ago, on a river. I float somehow on the lake before dinner; I catch every little detail on the worm. Our men did not catch big fish either. But local fishermen caught nets like this, which was understandable - there is a fish, it cannot be! Only to catch it is necessary to be able.

I swim with sad thoughts about worthy fish, around silence, water lilies - beauty. When suddenly the paddle clings to something under the water. I take my hand in the water, and there's a cord! And in his hand he beats. I was seized with a feeling of pleasant horror! I started pulling the cord, pulled out 15 meters, and he still does not get. The whole was confused about the trunks of plants; they had to be cut with a knife.

Gradually, there was one tattered end of the cord, and at the other end something was beating desperately, lifting the turbidity from the bottom. The first thought is carp. I calmed down and began to pull more confidently, not a shark! When there was no more than half a meter to the fish, the fish jerked so hard that it nearly cut the palm of my hand.

With an eerie cry I glanced into the water - there was a long snake body pounding thick in my hand. With a howl of horror, I let go of the cord. The snake rushed, the cord began to go into the water. Then I came to my senses, I became excited and interested in what kind of monster? Do not live such fish in the rivers! I grabbed the end of the cord, wrapped it around the frame, prepared the knife (with fear), and again pulled the cord.

Fishing From the Point of View of a Woman

After a furious struggle, I dragged something into a boat. The eerie snake, more than a meter long, began to rush wildly along the bottom, knocking everything in its path and smearing everything with mucus. Yes this is an eel! I had to calm him down with a paddle for a long time, but it was not an easy task. He does not have brains! Soon, blood was added to the mucus on the bottom, and I quickly buried to the shore, preparing for the speech to amazed friends.

When cutting from the stomach extracted a huge wrought-iron hook, soldered to a metal leash and fish head scraps on a cord. We could not smell the eel in the heat, and so they spoiled it. But the impressions remained until the end of the campaign! Of course, it was the first and last eel.

Random fish №4

It was on Altai. We sailed long, already the end of the hike, and where is the fish? My captain, a passionate fisherman, was very upset. The Altai, the wilderness, the purest water, but there is no fish!

Only a small grayling on the ruts in the upper reaches, which local fishermen catch on their specific gear. Below, the river is wide, calm, all the hills have been tested - and not a single fish. Where are the huge taimen, where are the packs of grayling?

We decided to try trolling. I thought, I thought, put a plastic wobbler on the spinning and we sailed. We are sailing for an hour, the second. On rolls, on stones. Wobblers, like a faithful dog, follow us on the surface in 30 meters. Suddenly someone started shouting: "Hey, what have you got on the tail?". We stopped, we pull! And there is fish! Unhappy, exhausted small taimen (centimeters 40 in length) for an hour after us trudged, but we did not even feel it.

Fry it in oil! Meat is pink, like salmon, and is as delicious. It is a pity that it was so small. And to figure out how to catch before! More I did not catch taimen ...

Random fish №5

Somehow they persuaded me to go to one large reservoir. We drove for a long time, went even longer. Chose a place on the map at random, the green peninsula. Come, and there's a military zone! Locators and all that. While they found a new place, it was dark, and then the rain went away. In general, the weather did not spoil (it was September). We stayed for half a night-not a single fish! I had to drink a few bottles of port, for compensation. After that, having checked the bait, went to bed.

In the morning I was awakened by shouts. Above the water floats a crimson ring of signaling devices, all as one. Lines run, tackles sway. What kind of miracles? Really huge bream? Begin to pull - perch! One, two, three ... A whole flock, and very large individuals. Such perches only catch a spoon. And what did they find in our worms?

We start shooting, and started to laugh. It turns out that a flock of small fish passed along the shore in the morning, and they all tried our worms. And then there was a flock of perches, and they all started to try fish that could not go anywhere. So we hung out until we woke up!

As you can see, in the women's fishing a good catch is a pure accident! If there is a female angler who disagrees with me - let him write a refutation!

Most importantly, I never took fishing seriously, unlike men. It's a hobby, and in a hobby you can afford to be an amateur! And the result, as it turned out, is not important. In fishing, the main process. Preparation, gathering, road and contemplation of nature.

What else to say about a woman fishing?

It does not differ from men in fishing. If he goes fishing, he also shares the hardships of the road, the joy of successful fishing. He also wants to go to nature, to relax from family worries. Let not even fish. But men (so historically) do not take their women to the hunt. And they still have to clean the fish. And they are happy. Probably...

Dear men! Take care of your pride! Catch only big fish! Because small fish can catch and we, women. Good luck on your fishing trip!

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