This morning I ran at Parkrun as usual, and it was chilly and slightly misty. The swallows of the week before hadn't bothered to come out for a fly over the football pitches; everything felt very reminiscent of my old school cross country runs.
And then in the afternoon, after a guilty sleep, the weather was warm I decided a small bike ride was in order along the cycle path. The primary mission involved the buying of biscuits, but this was a scenic route.
So, there is still life about. A southern hawker dragonfly was patrolling alongside London Road lake, many white butterflies, and a brown hawker alongside the river, bronzed wings catching the low autumn sun. The liveliest thing I saw, however, was at the end of a fishing line. A group of young lads who I initially thought were Eastern European but were actually local, had hauled a pike out of the river opposite the Barge pub.
Always curious about fish, I went and had a look, my initial assumption that they were Poles meaning I figured the fish was destined for the pot. I spoke to the lads, but they were a bit on the rough side, and when I tried to take a picture of the fish, they youngest one started demanding money, the cheek of it!
They then weight it through it's gills, as one of them shouted "kill it! kill it!" He then started punching the fish as it hung on the hook.
This left me feeling rather down. I don't really have an axe to grind against fishermen, I find seeing fish fascinating. But I'd rather the fish were taken to eat, or put back straightaway, rather than being tormented by a bunch of idiot kids. It reminded me of when I saw a kid stabbing a fishing hook through a frog, shouting "It's what the French do!". Ugh.
And more Ugh.
I was wishing the pike would punch the kids.