Like a Shag on a Rock.

Apparently, when the Shags start flying along the river out to sea, it means the Winter Whiting are biting.

Shags flying out to sea.  At least twenty flocks like this flew out this morning.

Last year, Adoring Husband and I took the boat out to check what all the fuss was about with the Winter Whiting.  We had heard about people fishing for thirty minutes to each bring their quota of fifty Winter Whiting home.

So we motored out of the mouth of the river and along the coast line for what seemed like forever, until we saw, way off in the distance, a gathering of boats.

We headed towards the gathering and soon came across about thirty boats, ranging from small tinnies to larger craft with about six people on board and all with a line over the side.

The boats were so close to each other, that they were almost touching and the fishing frenzy was amazing!  No sooner had they dropped the baited line over the side, than they were bringing it straight back up with a Winter Whiting on the hook!

We anchored our boat about twenty feet away from the group and threw our line over the side.

NOTHING.

So we moved a bit closer and tried again.

NOTHING.

We discovered that the patch of water where the Winter Whiting bite is very small and you must be inside that small patch to catch anything.  You need to squeeze your boat in between all the other boats and become a part of the crowd.

I can't remember how many fish we caught that day.  Maybe only five.  Our boat kept floating outside of the fishing patch.  The other boats only stayed for a short time because each person was catching fifty Whiting in a short time and then had to leave.

Every time one boat left, another was there to take it's place.  It was quite a spectacle to watch!  I had never seen anything like it in my life and I spent days animatedly regaling the story to anyone who would listen.

We won't be going out again this year.  We only needed to experience it once.  But the race is now on again for everyone else to find that little fishing patch and boats are offloaded at the boat ramp in large numbers and they all head towards the mouth of the river in rapid succession.

I sit at The Seat of Knowledge like a Shag on a rock watching all the action unfold.  I'm happy to watch them leave and listen to the fishing tales when they return thirty minutes later.