Three nil to the dreaded mitten crabs

The float bobs up and down and the tod tip rattles. I'm not sure it's a pike, but after a few seconds of this, I wind into it and find whatever it was has de-sardined me. Ten minutes later, the same thing happens. Crabs two, Chris nil.

I stick on a thick eel section, thinking this should beat them and leave something on the end for the pike in case one comes creeping up the margins. After a repeat of the bob-bob-tug-tug routine, I reel in the bait and find something's sliced chunks out of it.

I can't seen how anything other than a crab could leave slashes like this in something as tough-skinned as an eel.

I dropped it on top of my reefer box to get a close-up of the damaged bait - whatever did it has left a deep V-shaped laceration, before it started pulling the flesh out of it.

Barry McConnell gave us his take on the invaders at the last King's Lynn PAC meeting. He blames them for the zander's steep decline on some of the drains where they were once common. And unlike me, he's actually caught a few crabs, click here for some pictures of them along with more on Barry's thoughts.  

The river looked half hopeful, once I'd got there through the fog-shrouded Fens. It was pulling off hard but had obviously been three or four feet higher at some point over the last 24 hours or so. Two ounce leads and big sea floats held station in the flow, line tightened so it was off the water.

The fog never cleared. The Chipper Bailiff stopped by and tipped me about an eight pounder someone landed in the next swim a day or two earlier. I debate whether to move but decide not to chase a known eight pounder.