Monologues about fishing.

Fishermen know when fishing is considered successful.
The first rule is when you have caught a lot of fish.
As a child, I lived in Guriev, in the mouth of the Ural river, there were no problems with clay and catch there. But you can catch in different ways: on wheels, wheels, wheels. The most interesting was fishing on spinning. For some reason, they were not caught for glitters, but for homemade fish made of foam. You take a piece of dense foam, cut out a fish, insert a triangle with red wool threads, tie the cargo in a half-meter - and all, the cloth is ready. The most difficult thing was to get the coil and learn to throw it away, there were simply no non-ziner coils then, and on coils like “Kyiv” or “Nevskaya” at first everyone got a beard, like Chernomor. Therefore, the spinningists were few, mostly caught on the cloth easier.
I was 15 years old, it was late autumn. Quite quickly I caught a passing piece of vessels, small, weighing a kilogram, I already pulled out three pieces and continued to throw further. A company of fishermen passed by, who went fishing down the stream and returned. They were already adult men-friends, people four or five. They were not so lucky, only a couple of judges talked about them all in their bags.
I looked around, evaluated the catch – I already have more. “The key. Kosyak approached.”They stood up nearby and also began to throw spinning. The clown continued, in turn one, the other was pulled out by the court. Within half an hour, each had two or three fish. Everyone except one. It was an obvious newcomer, to throw, though crude and inaccurate, but without a "beard", he has already learned, but there was a problem with the beard. Probably, he was told how the fish was made, but forgot to show. The fish was crude, unshallowed, so it quickly filled with dirt, but most importantly – it was huge. The usual fist was the size of a finger, and he was the size of a palm. Most likely, he was given a float from the grid as a piece of work, told how to cut, but forgot to warn that the piece should be cut into several pieces and make several copies, he cut only one fish. And the dwarf is not a squid, he does not like large fish even in the form of a dwarf.
His friends were already joking about him on the full program.
“Vasya, the Belugus come to the Urals only in the winter.”
“Wait, don’t throw it away, let the trailer pass, or else you’ll hit, you’ll sink unintentionally.”
“Are you going to catch the judge on the judge?” and so on in the same spirit.
It was seen from him that he had already accepted the failure, he was even ridiculed somehow doomed, and continued to throw more inertia, already without any hope for a result. I felt sorry for him, I looked around my catch – six were already lying on the shore, the rest were noticeably less.
It’s time to remember the second rule of successful fishing – no matter how much you catch this time, the main thing is to catch all the others. Even if you catch five sandstorms and the rest are three, it will be more fun than when you pull out three sandstorms and the rest are five.
So we could show sympathy. I approached him and suggested, “I still have a couple of spare fish, take one until the clay is over.”But he sadly refused – even a couple of fish caught from jokes would not save him. We continued to catch and then suddenly someone struck him.
As for the team, everyone stopped rotating the coils and began to look at Vasa and his head. The leash tightened, the veil bended with a bow. His face was unmoving, as if crumbling, but somehow a bunch of emotions were reflected on him. And confusion – what is it? And confusion, and the fear of believing that somebody has knocked out. He concentrated on turning the coil, the others could not withstand and began to give him advice. “Don’t pull so hard, you’ll break the leash or you’ll break the leash! Above, higher up, there is a jar in the water, now in the ground will crumble. Don’t pull you so hard!” but Vasya could no longer hear anyone. In some hurry, he continued to turn the coil with effort, evenly, like a robot.
He pulled out the judge. It was no longer a judge like ours, it was a judge. It’s a pity that you can’t put your hands aside and show how big it was! Healthy, dark and thin. Everyone came and stood silently around him. Vasya, shaking from excitement, raised his hands on his hands. And here, in completion, from the fist of the judge fell the usual size of the wreath. Before he caught the snare, he caught the snare, but had not yet had time to swallow it. This was the last drop. Everyone quietly walked away on their backs. The joke was no longer allowed.
Because the third unofficial rule of successful fishing is that even if everyone else around caught a bag of fish, and you are only one trophies, then you caught them according to the full program. This time the undisputed winner was Vasa.

Mother of Siberia (c)