Big Plate Carp Fishing Spree Cut Short by Crows: When Great Joy Turns to Sorrow

Let me tell you about the wildest fishing day I’ve had in months—one that started with me reeling in big carp left and right, only to end with a gut punch that left me staring at an empty bucket and a sky full of cawing crows. Spoiler: Those crows? They were low-key foreshadowing the chaos to come. Buckle up; this story’s got more twists than a fishing line tangled in weeds.

The Setup: Why I Rushed to This Secret Spot

First off, let’s set the scene. It was early winter—November 15th, to be exact—with a drizzly rain that stuck around all night. The air was crisp, the kind that makes you zip up your jacket and wonder if the fish are even biting. But then I saw a viral video in my local fishing group: some guy hauled in 28 pounds of carp in one day. Twenty-eight pounds! I nearly spilled my coffee when I saw it. The next morning, I was up before the sun, GPS locked on the spot, and speeding to the river like a kid chasing an ice cream truck.

Location: The River’s Hidden (and Dangerous) Banks

When I got there, the spot was packed—people were already set up, rods in the water, even though it was still dark. But the bank? Oh man, it was a mess. Steep slopes, overgrown weeds, and high ledges that made setting up a chair feel like a balancing act. I almost slipped twice just walking around. A local angler told me the water here was 2-3 meters deep, which is perfect for big carp, but the banks? Total nightmare. I finally found a little indent in the bank, cleared some grass, and plopped down my folding chair. Let the fishing begin.

My Gear & Bait: The “No Small Fish” Formula

Here’s what I brought to the party:

• Rods: 6.3m and 4.5m (but the 4.5m got retired quick—more on that later)
• Bait: Red worm carp mix with a tiny bit of rice wine grit
• Line: 1.5+0.8 (main) and 1+0.4 (backup)
• Hook: Size 4 sleeve hook (small enough for carp, big enough to hold ‘em)

Now, the bait trick: The early guys warned me about small fish (minnows, roach) swarming the area. So instead of using rice wine grit for chum, I went with plain wheat. Why? Small fish can’t eat much wheat, so they’ll bugger off. But I added a tiny bit of rice wine grit to my hook bait—just enough to draw the big carp in. Genius move, if I do say so myself.

The Fishing Frenzy: Big Carp After Big Carp

After chumming the spot with wheat, I tied on my red worm mix, added that little grit, and cast the 6.3m rod. The 4.5m? Total waste. The water was 3.5 meters deep there, so the float was basically at the rod tip. I tied on some wheat and left it to sit—no time for that rod when the big ones were biting.

First Bite: The Start of a Roll

About 10 minutes of casting and reeling (fishing pros call this “working the water”), I saw the float dip. Then it went under—slow, deliberate, the kind of bite that means a big fish. I yank the rod, and bam! Line screaming, rod bending like a noodle. First carp of the day, and it was a beauty—thick, healthy, not tiny. I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. That 28-pound guy wasn’t lying; this spot was a goldmine.

Sunny Spot = Fish Magnet

Now, here’s a pro tip I figured out that day: I set up in the sun. The morning was freezing (like 3-4 degrees Celsius), so I wanted warmth. But turns out, the fish did too! The guy across the river was in the shade and hadn’t caught a thing. I? I was hauling in carp every 15-20 minutes. By noon, the temp hit 17 degrees, and I was sweating through my jacket—worth it, though. The fish were loving the sun-warmed water.

Oh, and the crows? They were everywhere, cawing like crazy above my head. I kept thinking, “Weird, why are they hanging around?” Little did I know, they were the universe’s way of saying, “Enjoy this while it lasts.”

The “Lucky” Carp: The One That Got Away (Twice)

About 1pm, I reeled in a carp with a messed-up mouth—like it had been hooked before and escaped. I named him “Lucky.” He fought like hell, but I got him in. I thought, “This guy’s been through the wringer; he’s not escaping again.” Spoiler: He did. But not how you think.

The Disaster: When Joy Turns to Sorrow

By 3pm, I was ready to pack up. I’d caught so many carp, my live bucket was almost full. I was already daydreaming about my wife’s face when I showed her the haul—she loves fresh carp. Then, the worst happened.

The “Crowded” Bank: A Fateful Mistake

There was a guy fishing 10 meters to my left. He’d been watching me catch big carp all day, and when I said I was packing up, he bolted over to “claim” my spot. I told him, “Watch the slope—it’s steep!” But I forgot to say, “Watch my bucket!”

He cast his rod into my spot, then stepped back. His foot hit my live bucket. The lid wasn’t fully closed (my bad, but who expects that?), and the bucket went flying into the river. It landed with a splash, and all my carp spilled out. The bank was 1.5 meters high, and the water there was 2 meters deep—no way to reach them. I watched as my haul swam away, one by one. Even Lucky got his third escape.

The Crow’s Curse? Maybe.

The guy just mumbled something and walked away. No apology, no nothing. I stood there, staring at the empty river, the crows still cawing above. All that work—gone. My live bucket was gone too. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. The day went from 10/10 to 0/10 in 10 seconds.

Silver Lining: The Next Day’s Redemption

Okay, let’s end on a high note. Two days later (November 17th), I went back. This time, I picked a deeper spot (4 meters) and stayed in the sun. And guess what? I caught more carp than the first day—maybe even more than that 28-pound guy. I took photos this time, though. No way I was letting that happen again.

The spot is the Longliang River, right next to Yushan Reservoir. If you go, here’s what I recommend:

• Pick deep water (3-4 meters) — carp love it in winter
• Set up in the sun — fish are cold, just like you
• Watch your bucket — and your back, if there are crows cawing above. Just saying.

So that’s my story. One day of pure joy, one second of pure chaos, and a redemption day that made it all better. Fishing’s like that—you never know what’s gonna happen. But hey, if you catch a carp with a messed-up mouth? Let him go. He’s been through enough.