Hi all,
On Saturday there myself and my stepdad were fishing at Swanswater in Stirling and something weird happened.

When my stepdad hooked into a Rainbow it swam towards the boat then jumped out of the water, took a dive then jumped out again right into the boat.

The fish was not any where near "played out" as all this happened within 20 seconds of the fish taking the fly.

We both burst out laughing but were both a little bit shocked that something like this should happen.

Whats the weirdest thing to happen to you whilst out flyfishing?

A naked old man appeared on the opposite bank of the Derbyshire Derwent while I was wading and walked into the river and began to wash, shampoo and all . I explained he'd need a bigger rod to handle some of the Big Derbyshire beauties around here

Mick

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"I will give him seven feet of English ground, or as much more as he may be taller than other men"
http://derbyshireonthefly.blogspot.com/

the same thing happenened to me on lough melvin hooked two sonaghan on the same cast after about 30 seconds playing they both took a leap into the boat a lovely sight to see

I once had a rainbow that spent the whole afternoon dead - When I came to leave he/she/it came back to life, lept from my hands and swam off - no kidding!

I was walking down the bank of a remote river and it was just in the gathering light before dawn. I was about a mile from the nearest road access point and this is a very seldom fished river, so there are rarely any other anglers around, especially this early in the morning.

Suddenly I heard a terrible snarl and a black shaggy animal, the head of which was about waist high, jumped out of the tall grass and onto the trail just 10 feet in front of me.

The animal let out a horrible low growl and all I could focus on was the barred row of white teeth. I was absolutely frozen with fear, but then in the dim light my eyes focused. Focused on the animal's curly coat and it's shaved backside with a pom-pom ball on the tip of its tail.

Three seconds after I realized that I was about to be mauled by a freaking Standard Poodle, from down the bank I heard a shout.

"Pierre! Pierre! You dumb son of a b####, get back here. Here!"

The poodle snarled one more time over his shoulder and then retreated back toward his master. I walked down a little and sure enough, there he was, Mr. Poodle stood in the middle of the stream fishing and Pierre sat on the bank and kept watch while thinking how nice it would be to sink his teeth into a nice bit of Gore-tex.

I couldn't resist. I said to the guy, "Say, you don't run into many guys fishing with their poodles these days. You know, compared with what you used to."

He turned slowly to me and said under his breath said, "My wife makes me take him. It's good exercise."

I continued down the bank then, ready for whatever nature could throw my way. There aren't many people who can say they stared down a bloodthirsty poodle in the cold light of dawn and lived to tell about it.

Grouse

Years ago I hooked a rainbow at Cleveley Mere in North Lancashire, and as soon as I got it to the surface it just died. It wasn't deep hooked. Never ever has anything similar happened again anywhere since.

Then, when fly fishing on the Eden a few years ago I witnessed an aerial battle close to the river between a bird of prey and a bat. It was mid-afternoon and after a lot of aerial twists and turns and jinks, THE BAT GOT AWAY. Considering they're effectively blind, it was an astonishing feat of survival.

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cumbriafishingfestival.co.uk

A shaggy dog story if ever I heard one (or too much Grouse my friend)

I was legering for chub on a tiny river so not strictly fly fishing but had the damndest thing happen. the river was no more than 5 foot across but widened into some lovely big eddies/weirpools that contained some huge, unfished for, chub. I was there with a friend, we were about 13 and it was hotter than the hinges of hell. at some stage i said to my mate that i would murder a drink, and as the words left my lips, a can of hoffmeister bobbed into the pool, and eddied around under our feet. Nowadays of course i'd let the hoffmeister bob on past, preferring to drink my own sweat, but at the time it was an absolute gift from god and tasted like an angel, crying on my tongue. We looked as far up and down the river as we could see but there wasnt another fisherman in sight, and this river, believe me, is in the middle of nowhere.

I expect it was the morning of the glorious twelvth...


The breed was originally used as a gun-dog.

Some things, my friend, are too strange not to be true. Finding yourself faced with being mauled by a poodle while in the middle of a dark woods that holds bears, wolves, wolverines, and other wild things with sharp teeth, is one of them.

Grouse