The tell-tale slide of my boot was all I needed to know that I had been ‘cow turded’, the stink had me thinking it was a bad omen and I should probably just go home and forget about bass.
The first three casts I put across the deep dark pool drew a blank, not good. I was a more than a little disturbed by the odour of digested Kikuyu that was rising from my left boot. Fourth cast got monstered and for a few seconds the rod loaded and drag sang a little song of protest, it was too brief, the bass was gone and the smell of cow poo returned.
A few casts later the smell disappeared about the time my fizzer was again monstered, this time the hooks found their mark and the little Stradic sang its song of protest again. The song played out and a strong low 40's bass was lifted for a photo. Strangely I could no longer smell cow poo.
It was only a few casts later that the fizzer was again eaten and my drag got to preform once more. Another low 40's bass and the air was smelling very fresh.
A good ten minutes passed without much action and I had begun thinking about the downside of night fishing when a fit 34cm bass distracted my sense of smell. Sadly that was the last bass for the evening and the smell was making a comeback, wafting its bovine stench once more. Time to head for home and hose my boots.
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