Do fish melt like snow?

The great freeze has ended.

The people of Hampshire have dug themselves out of the great snow drifts.

Some over a inch deep.

River ice flows away and the ducks put away their ice skates for another year.

An intrepid Angler returns to the river; hopeful of a first Perch or even a greedy Chub.

He moves from swim to swim; braving gangs of malnourished Swans.

The water is a green brown colour and ice cold to the touch.

Trotting, ledgering or freelining. It makes no difference; no bites are forthcoming.

As the light fades the float bobs under. The Angler strikes, the fish stubbornly hugs the bottom.

With a great effort he brings the beast to the surface.

He stands there in amazement, his mind unbelieving of his hard won prize.

A shed panel.