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A Carp Out and In.

26/11/2015

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By Bruce Hyde

​​​On a still, warm morning at the end of September I was walking along the bank of the river Tech
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​Normally that particular stretch is deserted, but on this occasion I saw a tent pitched near a gap in the bankside vegetation. It turned out that a fisherman was camped there; he was with his wife and small son - they may possibly have been there all night as night fishing for carp is popular.
 
As I arrived he had a fish on his line and was bringing it in to the river bank, very slowly and carefully. He took quite some time to land it, both to take care not to lose the fish as well as not to damage it.
 
I watched the process with interest and, having asked if he minded, took a few photographs.

With the fish alongside, he called on his son to bring him the landing net; the boy was small and the net was large.
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​He very painstakingly coaxed the fish into the net. It did not make too much of a fuss, and it occurred to me that perhaps it had been caught before, and was used to the process (or perhaps a fish brain does not work that way!).
 
The fish - a large carp - was gently transferred from the net to a landing mat where the hook was slowly removed from its mouth
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​The hooks are without barbs so that the fish is not damaged. A side effect of this is that it makes the process of bringing the fish to land more difficult.
 
The fisherman then held the carp up to show me. He said it weighed around 7 kilos - it really looked a handsome specimen
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​The carp was then delicately returned to the river where it lazily swam off, apparently none the worse for the experience.
 
What impressed me most was the fastidiousness with which the fish was handled and returned to the river. Clearly the angler took nature seriously, and preservation and protection were uppermost in his mind.
 
I have seen carp swimming in the Tech many times - there is a particularly good viewpoint on a bluff above the river - but have not been standing by when one has been caught.
 
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​It was good to see catching wild life for sport going hand-in-hand with conservation.
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The First Chill of Winter

22/11/2015

 
by Lesley McLaren

So far this November we've been blessed with temperatures in the high twenties, which I'd usually associate with early summer or early autumn. We did have snow on Canigou once in September and once again last month but, as usual, it quickly melted. It's all change now, however, and I think yesterday's powdering up there - third time lucky? - will probably stick, at least on the highest peaks.

Although strong winds and cooler air had been forecast for this weekend, 6°C was still a shock to my system on this morning's walk. It's lunchtime as I write this, and the temperature has crept up to 14° but it feels colder in that tramontane. In a way the change is welcome: it's good to have seasons. And should put an end to this year's tiger mosquitoes, which were still biting a couple of days ago!


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There were fewer dog walkers than usual in the vineyards this morning. Perhaps because of the weather, but possibly because Sunday is the most popular day for hunters. I heard plenty but only met one man with a gun today.

I'd been tracking the jingle of bells from a hunting dog somewhere among the vines, but hadn't found its owner until I spotted cigarette smoke trailing out of the open door of a car parked by the track ahead. I was probably fifty yards or so away when the man emerged, turned in my direction, raised his shotgun skywards, panning above me and to my left, and fired once. I turned but didn't see anything fall to earth. When I reached him he was perfectly pleasant, as I expected. I asked if he'd got it. Non. Too far away, he said. I asked what it was.

Une grive. A thrush.

"There's nothing about," he added glumly.

The bitter wind made me pull my scarf tighter as I wished him "Bon dimanche" and walked on, feeling glum too; silently lamenting that he - along with so many people worldwide - can blast any creature to oblivion for the sheer thrill of it, and can see nothing wrong with that. Hopefully today's thrush will make it through to the spring, when it can thrill me - and others - with its uplifting, beautiful song. A song that seems to celebrate life itself.

A Weird Kind of Wolf

7/11/2015

 
by Lesley McLaren

Halloween, daytime, on just another walk in the vineyards, if I hadn't been looking down for once, I'd have missed a remarkable creature creeping through the grass beside the track. I managed to get quite close, but it kept moving and quickly disappeared into the undergrowth. Mouse? Shrew?

Spider.

I'm not keen on spiders. And this was one of those big headed, meaty ones, with thick legs. Not especially hairy, as far as I could see, but what really drew my attention was its body: peculiarly domed and a much darker brown than its head and legs. The 'dome' looked ridged and pitted too, like the surface of a truffle (savoury variety, not the chocolate ones!). Unfortunately there was no chance of photographing it with my phone and, after a few seconds, it had gone.

Back home, after consulting my Albera flora and fauna book, the only spider that came close to this chap was the Lycose radiée (Lycosa radiata): the wolf spider - also known as the false tarantula. Which seemed kind of appropriate for Halloween. But while legs and head looked similar, the body was nothing like the one I'd seen. So had my eyes or imagination been playing up? Was it a trick of the light, or was the poor thing I'd seen deformed?

I'd almost forgotten about it when, a few days later, on similar terrain but several kilometres away, I saw another one, with exactly the same dark brown, domed and pitted body. It too scurried away quickly, so there was no opportunity to photograph it, or even bend down to peer closely. Not that I was keen to get close.

The internet finally answered the question when I delved more deeply into wolf spiders. The females carry their young on their backs until they're able to fend for themselves. (This, after carrying the egg sack attached to the underside of their abdomen.) On one site I read that the mothers are very caring. How true this is I don't know but apparently, if one of the hatchlings falls off her back, she'll stop and wait for it to climb back on!

I never thought I'd be fascinated by a spider but have to admit this has somewhat changed my attitude. It's good to know that what I saw on Halloween wasn't a trick of the light or a deformed monster, but one of nature's treats. And if I ever manage to photograph one, I'll add it here.

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    Bruce Hyde
    Isobel Mackintosh
    Lesley McLaren
    Robin Noble

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