Did you ever catch this pike from the Fens

There's another fish I've been meaning to write about for ages. So nearly my first thirty, but not quite both times I caught her. I'm trying to piece together some of the stories behind the captures of this pike, which hovered between low thirties and high twenties for two or three seasons, when a rag-tag band pursued her on one of the sprawl of gravel pits east of King's Lynn.

She even had a name at one point. We called her Nelson, because she was blind in one eye. I know of at least five other captures, the best looking every ounce of 32:04. The first time I caught her, she went 28lbs. The second time I caught her, she was 43.5" long, although she was shy of 27lbs by a few ounces because she was spawned out as you can see from the picture.

What struck me about this fish was how many people were chasing her. Few of them were successful. Yet the water seemed to take on a life of its own on the local grapevine.

There are at least three thirties in here, one of the regulars once told me. I enjoyed the time I spent chasing her, partly because it was incredible how a fish this size could do a disappearing act for months on end.

I found her MO out by accident. I was thrilled to catch her all the same - the waders probably give a clue regarding how you had to fish the water - I caught her both times I managed to get a bait right on her nose.

If you caught her, or one of your mates did, leave a comment.  No names or pack drill needed. I've still got the jaw bone I recovered from the pit after a carp angler told me he'd seen an otter feeding on the carcase of a big pike.

What I noticed, the last time I caught her, was how she'd lost all the teeth on one side of her lower jaw. The lower jaw I've still got somewhere in my study is missing the teeth on one half - I'm guessing where countless traces cut her, assuming the jaw bone was hers.