Chap­ter XII – The Com­pleat Angler begins with a vibrant con­ver­sa­tion between Pis­ca­tor and Vena­tor, who shift their atten­tion to the perch, a fish admired for its dis­tinc­tive behav­ior and aggres­sive spir­it. Pis­ca­tor presents the perch as a strik­ing and ener­getic fish, armed with bris­tled fins and armored scales, mak­ing it not only a live­ly catch but a crea­ture well-suit­ed to sur­vive in com­pet­i­tive waters. He high­lights its preda­to­ry instincts, not­ing that perch will attack small­er fish—including their own species—when food is scarce, a trait that makes them as thrilling to catch as trout or pike. Their bold­ness at the hook often sur­pris­es begin­ners, offer­ing both an excit­ing chal­lenge and a sense of accom­plish­ment. Vena­tor lis­tens intent­ly as the con­ver­sa­tion explores the per­ch’s pecu­liar nature and sig­nif­i­cance among dif­fer­ent angling tra­di­tions, both local and abroad. This exchange sets a thought­ful and prac­ti­cal tone for the rest of the chap­ter.

The dis­cus­sion soon tran­si­tions into the per­ch’s rep­u­ta­tion beyond Eng­lish waters. In Italy, Aldrovan­dus observed how even the small­est perch were prized at the table, while Ger­man anglers val­ued those from the Riv­er Rhine for their clean fla­vor and ease of diges­tion. Pis­ca­tor notes these cul­tur­al pref­er­ences with admi­ra­tion, empha­siz­ing that perch have been rec­om­mend­ed for their restora­tive qualities—particularly for those recov­er­ing from ill­ness, wounds, or child­birth. This focus on health adds anoth­er lay­er to the perch’s val­ue, link­ing the act of fish­ing not just to sport, but also to nour­ish­ment and care. Addi­tion­al­ly, men­tion is made of a curi­ous stone found with­in the perch’s head, believed in for­eign apothe­caries to hold med­i­c­i­nal prop­er­ties, a fact that sparks Venator’s fas­ci­na­tion. Through this blend of sci­ence, folk­lore, and culi­nary appre­ci­a­tion, the perch emerges as a species rich with mean­ing across cul­tures.

Pis­ca­tor con­tin­ues with tales of remark­able catch­es, ref­er­enc­ing Sir Abra­ham Williams, who once land­ed a perch near­ly two feet in length. Such fish are rare, he admits, but not unheard of in rivers that offer suf­fi­cient depth, shel­ter, and prey. The perch’s nat­ur­al defens­es are clev­er­ly not­ed too—it can flare its dor­sal spines like a turkey-cock, deter­ring even aggres­sive preda­tors such as pike. These details remind read­ers of the strate­gic com­plex­i­ty that under­lies angling, where under­stand­ing the habits and traits of each fish improves both one’s skill and suc­cess. While perch may not grow as quick­ly as oth­er species, their strength and tenac­i­ty make them worth the wait. The joy lies not just in catch­ing, but in observ­ing the small vic­to­ries each fish earns in its strug­gle for sur­vival.

The rhythm of the con­ver­sa­tion shifts as Pis­ca­tor explains the best sea­sons and hours for catch­ing perch. Cold weath­er dulls their appetite, but once spring arrives—and mul­ber­ry trees begin to bud—anglers can expect them to bite with enthu­si­asm, espe­cial­ly dur­ing the mid­day sun. Pis­ca­tor rec­om­mends an assort­ment of baits: live­ly worms for their move­ment, small frogs for their scent, and min­nows for their visu­al appeal. The bait, he says, must be placed care­ful­ly and nat­u­ral­ly, as perch are watch­ful and intel­li­gent in their pur­suit. His advice is prac­ti­cal yet poet­ic, a reminder that angling, when done thought­ful­ly, is as much about rhythm and tim­ing as it is about gear. Every choice an angler makes—from bait to water depth—becomes a silent dia­logue with nature.

Despite a sud­den change in the weath­er, Vena­tor encour­ages their les­son to con­tin­ue, sug­gest­ing that the com­pa­ny and con­ver­sa­tion are reward enough to press on. He humor­ous­ly likens fish­ing to a kind of usury, where inter­est is earned not in gold, but in sto­ries, smiles, and the com­pan­ion­ship of a fel­low angler. This metaphor light­ens the mood and cap­tures the deep­er pur­pose behind their outing—not mere­ly to catch fish, but to share time in reflec­tion and peace. Their moment is capped with a lit­er­ary flour­ish, as Pis­ca­tor recites lines from Doc­tor Donne that cel­e­brate the seren­i­ty of rivers and the joy­ful rit­u­al of angling. The poet­ry speaks to a time­less truth: that beneath every cast line lies a con­nec­tion to still­ness, tra­di­tion, and the small won­ders of the nat­ur­al world. Through perch and poet­ry alike, the chap­ter hon­ors both the sport and the soul of fish­ing.