5 reasons why Russians love fishing

1. The beauty of nature

"Sweet horse sorrel lashed our chests. The lungwort smelled so strong that the sunlight that flooded the Ryazan expanses seemed like liquid honey. We breathed in the warm air of the grass, bumblebees buzzed loudly around us and grasshoppers chirped. The leaves of the century-old willows rustled overhead like a dull silver. The smell of water lilies and clean cold water wafted from the Prorva,” wrote Konstantin Paustovsky in his story ‘The Golden Tench’. He not only adored nature and described it in detail, but was also a fan of fishing, which is mentioned in many of his works. Even if you don’t feel like you have the gift of describing what you’ve seen, like Paustovsky, no one can stop you from looking for new places, admiring them while fishing and taking beautiful photographs.

2. Meditation

“Any person, if they spend at least one day with a fishing rod on a river or lake, if they breathe in the scent of flowers to his heart’s content, hear the whistle of birds and the croaking of cranes, see the bronze or silvery shine of a large fish in the dark water, if they finally feel its elastic run on the thinnest ringing line, they will then remember this day for a long time as one of the happiest days of their lives,” continued Paustovsky in the same work.

Indeed, fishing is not only the ability to choose a fishing spot, study the habits of fish and prepare the right bait, but also, if you like, meditation, an opportunity to be away from the noise and bustle. Playwright Alexander Ostrovsky, for example, also an ardent fisherman, came up with the plots of his plays while fishing and worked out the characters, writing them down in a special book for reliability.

3. Passion

Anton Chekhov once admitted: “Don’t feed me bread, just let me sit with a fishing rod… and, my God, what kind of pleasure is that! You catch a burbot or some kind of chub, as if every fish has its own intelligence: You catch one with live bait, another with a worm, a third with a frog or a grasshopper. You have to understand this!” And how many works describe how a fisherman sees a bite, hooks, but the fish gets away. Or the fisherman tries to grab a fish that has almost been caught, but one stroke of the tail and the catch is gone, along with the hook and a piece of line. By the way, the bragging of fishermen is no different from the tales of hunters. And they measure their catch with no less pride.

4. Catch

“I’ve been fishing all morning. I’m checking the nets that were set across the river the night before. At first, there are empty hooks – all the bait has been eaten by ruffs. But then, the line is pulled tight, cuts the water, and a living silver glint appears in the depths – it is a flat bream walking on the hook. Behind it, a fat and stubborn perch is visible, then a small pike with piercing yellow eyes. The fish that is pulled out seems icy…” Few can compete with Paustovsky in describing the delights of fishing. Perhaps Emile Zola in ‘The Belly of Paris’ also naturally describes the fish stalls of the city market. River fish may not be the easiest to cook (bony, smells of mud), but it is sweeter than sea fish and can be caught by anyone.

5. Picnic in the company

This format is not so much about solitude and fishing itself, but about male brotherhood, fun, communication, bonding and abundant libations in nature surrounded by like-minded people. Russian fishermen often choose this approach to fishing, which is why a popular movie named ‘Peculiarities of National Fishing’ (1998) was even made about it.