SrCuervo
patreon
190
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 05:27:49 +0000 UTCWind in the Smoke
Chapter 190 - The Man and the Fishing Rod
The new rod he had bought really made fishing much easier.
You could fish with three rods at once, and then just wait patiently for a bite—either the bell would ring with a crisp sound, or the line would suddenly pull tight, and then you could reel in the catch steadily.
Of course, it would be a problem if all the rods rang at the same time. But so far, Dante had never experienced that kind of stress while fishing.
For now, the fish caught were relatively small, and it was easy to miss when pulling the sinker, so the bell wasn’t all that helpful.
But if you watched closely, you’d see the fishing line always moved slightly.
On the other hand, if a fisherman was too lazy to keep an eye on things, they could try reeling the line in from time to time. Basically, there’d be a fish hanging on the hook when they pulled it out of the river.
What Dante loved about these rivers, far away from everyone else, was that the fish population was quite dense. So much so that he could always stay busy.
From the moment he cast the rod to when he reeled in the fish, Dante never stood still for a second.
Feeder fishing is usually a relaxing and fun way to catch small fish, but with so much fish activity, Dante was really kept on his toes.
Still, the joy of being “busy” was unmatched.
“Man, this is actually making me sweat,” Dante chuckled, a relaxed smile curling at the corners of his lips as he quickly checked the line with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t tangled or knotted.
He baited the hook again, adjusted the line, and then cast the rod skillfully, the hook landing precisely in the confluence of currents he had chosen.
While feeder fishing was a good method, it wasn’t without drawbacks—especially without a bait cage. The types of fish caught were a mixed bag.
Besides the three kinds of fish he had already caught, more came later—carp, minnows, and round-bellied croaker among them.
Despite the variety, wasn’t this part of the fun?
Because you never knew what you’d hook next.
When Dante tried to retrieve a rod that had been quiet for a long time, he felt no response on the line. He figured he must have made a mistake in his rush and forgotten to put bait on the hook.
But as he reeled it in, he saw a zebra mussel.
“I actually caught one of these invasive things…”
This notoriously invasive freshwater bivalve is native to the Caspian and Black Sea basins and has spread across the globe, particularly to North American waters via ship ballast water.
Zebra mussels don’t bite the hook at all—they aren’t predators. They feed by filtering plankton from the water and have no interest in bait.
Yet somehow, this one had attached itself to the bait, and when Dante reeled in the line, it came along with the hook.
Dante squinted, recalling the series of steps to follow when encountering an invasive species in real life.
For example, clean and dry all fishing gear thoroughly before leaving the water to prevent spreading them to other locations. Or, if found in unreported areas, immediately notify the local ecological management department.
Zebra mussels filter large amounts of plankton, which not only disrupts the fish food chain but can also clog drainage pipes, causing both ecological and economic issues.
Dante shook his head and tossed the “uninvited guest” into a bucket, sending a message to one of his workers to report it first thing in the morning.
Just as he sighed in relief, he caught sight of another rod thrashing wildly from the corner of his eye.
The line went taut instantly, the reel gave off a sharp whirring sound, spitting out line as if it might snap at any second.
The bell on the rod was ringing like mad, as if calling out, “Hurry, don’t let this one get away!”
Dante raised an eyebrow, a faint smile forming on his lips. “Oh, this one’s no little guy.”
So far, they’d all been small fish—no real challenge. He quickly dropped the rod he was holding, took two steps, and grabbed the trembling handle of the rod.
The rod’s force shot up his arms instantly, shaking even his shoulders.
Dante joked to himself, “It’s not a shark, is it? How can it be this strong?”
“Maybe it’s a European carp?” he guessed, judging by the strength.
The reel spun rapidly in his hand. He adjusted the drag quickly, not giving the fish a chance to breathe and preventing the line from tightening too much and snapping.
Dante looked down at the fishing gear. The weakest part was the reel, which had a maximum limit of around 5 kg—it couldn’t be fully pulled.
He had no idea how such a small hook managed to catch such a large fish.
He couldn’t help but doubt whether he could win this tug-of-war—big fish often escaped the hook.
Even so, Dante’s movements were firm.
He knew in his heart that once a fish was hooked, there was no reason to let it go easily, even if it was a “loss-making” catch.
The night was dark, and the river’s surface shimmered with a faint, cold light. The beam from Dante’s headlamp cut through the darkness and shone into the distance.
He kept his center of gravity steady and used the rod’s stiffness and the line’s elasticity to face his underwater opponent.
Reeling and pulling with the right balance of tension and slack, Dante patiently wore the fish down, always keeping an eye on the direction it swam, adjusting his stance as needed.
The line was three hundred and fifty meters long—more than enough—but saving energy was always wise.
This tug-of-war lasted more than twenty minutes, with the line extending nearly two hundred meters at its farthest.
Dante increasingly suspected that the fish hooked was either a damn carp or a grass carp, and the air around him felt denser.
Waterbirds in the distance sensed the subtle tension and fell silent.
Finally, the fish’s strength began to wane, and Dante steadily reeled in more line.
As the fish neared, huge splashes erupted on the river’s surface, and a dark gray dorsal fin broke through the water, glistening with a wet, cold sheen like a sharp dagger.
Dante stared at it, his pupils narrowing slightly, a victorious smile creeping across his lips. “Oh, it’s actually a Burbot.”
His tone sounded both like praise for his opponent’s tenacity and affirmation of his own skills.
The burbot is the only freshwater member of the cod family.
It has a slender body like a common eel and is widely distributed from northern Eurasia to North America.
Dante had caught one of these fish at night in alpine lakes in the Rockies with his brothers just a few days ago, so he was familiar with it.
The burbot is a popular target for ice fishing in winter.
The tail of the fish before him was still thrashing the water vigorously, but its strength had clearly faded.
Dante took a deep breath and with great effort hauled the star of this battle out of the water.
Under the light, the burbot’s body was wet and glimmered with a dark metallic sheen.
It was a full meter long—enough to make Dante marvel at how such a big fish could be caught with such a small hook.
He carefully laid the fish on a damp cloth and ran his fingers over its rough scales, a look of satisfaction in his eyes.
“Not bad. My work tonight wasn’t in vain.”
This wasn’t the fish he had set out to catch tonight, but a catch of this size was definitely something to celebrate.
