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A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

» ■! 9 »

SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

BY

A. LEITCH

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY THE AUTHOR

PAISLEY: ALEXANDER GARDNER

^nbltshrr bg Jlppointment to tht l»tt 9lnttn Virtom
I9II

U4-

>• •<•,•#

LONDON :
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., LMD.

HAIN LIBRARY

PRINTKD BV AI.KXANDBR (iARDNBK, FAISI.KY

PREFACE

Although its production was undertaken at the
instigation of a friend, the writer himself assumes the
entire responsibility for a book he feels to be without
excuse^ — save the irrepressible loquacity of the angler
whose eagerness to share .with others all he knows and
much of which he knows nothing, is within the experi-
ence of everyone who owns his friendship. The book
contains little that is new. It supplies no felt want.
Though the reader may find in it an occasional hint
not altogether valueless, its purpose is not instructive ;
it merely records the impressions of a casual angler
whose methods are neither artful — in any sense of the
term — nor scientific, and who angrles as Sarah Battle's
young acquaintance took a hand at whist — with the
object of unbending his mind. The writer makes no
claim to the possession of originality ; he is not a
person of many inventions ; his ingenuity is unequal to
the feats some other fishermen perform. In difficulties
he is without resource. If the trout are simple enough
to accept the flies he offers them they may, haply, find

2 PREFACE

their way into his creel ; if they look at his lure
askance and refuse to entertain it, he leaves them for
a less sophisticated prey.

Of the objects supposed to be reproduced in the
so-called artificial fly, he is almost entirely ignorant.
Not, however, that he prides himself upon the fact or
is foolishly contemptuous of the science of insect life ;
on the contrary, he is firmly persuaded that the more
extensive the angler's knowledge of things connected,
even remotely, with his art, the greater the delight
he discovers in its practice, but, with the example of
Stewart and others before him, he is unconvinced that
familiarity with the natural history of the fly is essential
to the capture of the fish. He is not impressed by the
parade, sometimes entirely spectacular, of entomological
learning which has become so prominent a feature of
the literature of the rod.

There will be found in the book no list of artificial
flies. The art of simulating nature in the dressing of
the lure is one of which the writer has no skill, and
from the perplexing diversity of perfect imitations — of
the same original — devised by pundits of our art,
he finds it impossible to make a choice. But the
omission places the reader at no great disadvantage.
What information he desires is abundantly supplied in

PREFACE 3

other works on angling, and its acquisition involves no
arduous research. When in quest of a particular fly,
he may select the first encountered, satisfied that,
however widely it may differ from others similarly
named, its resemblance to the object it is meant to
simulate is as accurate as need be.

To the standards of the angler the trout display
an inexplicable apathy.

Mr. E. M. Todd informs us that he had been for
years in the habit of fishing with a Red Spinner
dressed with mallard wings ; with, that is, a variety of
wing prescribed by Ronalds but not, apparently, in
general favour with — the angler. He had been with-
out suspicion of his error, and, as he was perfectly
satisfied with the practical success of the lure, might
have been living in ignorance of it still, had it not been
discovered for him by a friend. The trout, lacking an
adviser, failed to discover it at all.

CONTENTS

-PAGE

CHAPTER I. — Introductory -

-

9

„ II. — The Fly -

-

- 36

III. — Stream- Fishing

-

86

IV. — Loch-Fishing

-

112

„ V. — The Weather -

-

160

VI. — Loose Strands -

-

179

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Frontispiece .... Facing title

Got Him ! 40

Flies and Lures (Coioured Plate) - - 42

Loch Lomond - - - - - - ']'^

Kinloch-Rannoch 88

In Spate ..--.__ 104

At the Landing Stage - - - - 121

Port Nellan - - - - - - 137

The Dochart - - - - - - 152

Nearing the End . _ . . _ 168

An Unpromising Day — Loch Leven - - 185

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

CHAPTER, r'"'' '-'

INTRODUCTORY

F all the means by which we seek
to ease our shoulders of the weight
of life, none, it is maintained, is so
valuable as angling. That, surely,
depends upon the seeker. To the
born angler there is nothing more
absorbing, but he from whom the
angling instinct has been withheld finds in it only
another form of tedium. He may be mildly interested
while sport is good, but he is without enthusiasm, and
in the absence of rising fish is unsustained by hope.

10 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Comparison of angling with other sports is futile.
We are not all similarly endowed. We begin life with
a diversity of gifts. This man is born with a faculty
for mathematics, that with a genius for music, a third
\yj,th a tale.nt. fqr^painting. We are anglers, golfers,
crick'eter3,'''f6crtB£Hrers, as nature determines, and those
/.'rWhofejb jin.nate .bfeft\ is.*towards one variety of sport seem
to have but little understanding for the others. Least
of all, perhaps, is the angler understood by those who
do not share his feeling. To sing the joys of angling
to one who lacks the angling sense is vain as talk of
music to the deaf or of colour to the blind. Only to
those in sympathy with him do the angler's rhapsodies
appeal ; to others they are foolishness.

No one is so frequently the object of cheap sarcasm
as he. He is the perennial butt of the small wit, who
in the things — the many things — beyond his
Jw poor capacity sees but provocatives to cack-
ling laughter. The worm with which, in the
popular imagination, the angler endeavours
to entice the wary trout, is surely the worm
that never dies. Our friends are tireless in
their efforts to preserve the memory of
Johnson's peevish definition of our art. But
though we be, by temperament, unable to

INTRODUCTORY 11

appreciate the recreations in which our fellows find
relief from toil, we need not sgoff. To deride a
pastime merely because it is one for which we have
no predilection, is to betray a defective intelligence.
Our particular diversion is not necessarily the only
one that merits the devotion of a reasonable man.

Yet the angler is convinced that, as a refuge from
the cares of earth, no pastime equals his, and in his
desire to convince others he appeals to the witness
of his own feelings. But, though shouted with all the
stormy vehemence of that wordy adv^ocate of silence,
the grim old Seer of Chelsea, convictions are valueless
if unsupported by objective evidence. Inward assurance
of the reality of an object of belief may suffice the
believer, but it is a flimsy reason on which to demand
the acceptance of the belief by those who have no part
in it. The angler, however, is not reduced to the
testimony of his emotions ; he will find abundant
evidence of the justice of his claim in a comparison
of the literature of angling with that of kindred sports.
The latter he will search in vain for any trace of the
rapturous delight with which the former overflows.

Unhappily, the angler's schemes, like those of other
men, "gang aft agley." His occupation does not
always yield him the delight of which he dreams, and

12 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

not infrequently the only pleasure he enjoys is that of
hope. The beatitude ascribed by Kingsley to the
Devil is characterised by all the subtlety a knowledge
of its origin would lead us to
expect. The thoughtful angler
restrains his fancy. He knows
that the dizzier the height to
which it bears him the longrer
and more hazardous the fall he
risks ; that the greater his expec-
tations the more painful his chag-
rin should misfortune overtake
him. In the holiday of the occasional angler who has
not learned to take fate's buffetings upstanding, angling
should be but an incident. To make it the single
interest of his vacation is to court an almost certain
disappointment ; whatever the result, it is unlikely to
prove satisfying ; the failure of his enterprise leaves
him disconsolately mourning the ruin of his hopes,
while its success seldom equals that anticipated.

When, filling a subordinate place in his design,
the quest of the elusive trout is of relatively small
importance to the angler's happiness, he not only
contemplates an empty creel in undisturbed tran-
quillity but finds occasion for unwonted jubilation in

INTRODUCTORY 13

a full one ; he accepts ill fortune with resignation,
and rejoices in good, as in an unconjectured grace.
A pleasure in prospect is a pleasure already partially
discounted ; our liveliest pleasures are those that come
upon us unawares. The source of my delight in the
most memorable fishing I have ever had was not in
the quality of the sport, for I have met with better, but
in its unexpectedness.
Detained, by unhappy
circumstance, within the
precincts of a dull, unin-
teresting German Dorf,
where life threatened to

become as dreary as that of Mariana in her moated
grange, I was, to my surprise, given abundant occupa-
tion for the rod I had taken with me on the quite
unlikely chance of finding an opportunity of using it.
Angling had been no part of my plan : it was a
remote contingency on which I had bestowed but little
thought, and the unlooked for privilege of casting
an angle in the trout and grayling haunted stream
meandering through the cowslip-spangled meadow just
without the village gates, afforded me a joy that was
not to be expressed in terms of weight or number.
There are those who assure us that in the contem-

14 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

plation of nature they find ample solace for every dis-
appointment. The writer is not among them. Theirs
is not the spirit in which he practises his art. To him,
angling is no light pastime to be followed with divided
mind and easy unconcern of the result ; it is a passion
to which he is in thrall ; it engages all his energies and
leaves him without interest in anything beside. He,
when he goes a-fishing, is dominated by a purpose
from which the fairest scene is powerless to divert him.
Not even when trout are dour and provokingly in-
different to the fascination of the fly does his attention
wander for a moment from his quest. The basket is
his sole concern, and on its weight alone depends his
pleasure in the day. Should fortune smile on him, his
happiness is perfect ; should she frown, he discovers
little comfort in the beauty that surrounds him. It is
a wan, grey world that lies about him when he comes
empty away from the water.

Yet he is not entirely insensitive to nature's charm.
Although while actively engaged in fishing he is but
dimly aware of his surroundings, he does not wholly
escape their magic influence. He feels that much of
the delight his recreation yields him is derived from
the conditions under which it is pursued; he is con-
scious of the excitation of emotions to which it makes

INTRODUCTORY 15

no appeal. But the gratification of his pleasure in the
beautiful he defers until the trout has ceased from
rising and he from entertaining hope. When the day
is done and he rejoices in a well-filled creel, nature
rarely calls to him in vain. Not altogether in the
weight dependent from his shoulder lies the secret of
the exaltation which sustains him on his homeward
way and makes of no account the miles which stretch
across the wide brown moorland.

Long may it be, Kingsley to the contrary not-
withstanding, before nature is entirely under man's
dominion. " Arable land is admirable, but I like to
see the brackens," as Captain Cutlass said. Agriculture
is an ancient and honourable calling, and there are still
a few waste places of the earth awaiting the attention
of the husbandman. But nature has in her possession
many nooks and corners not to be exploited for gain,
and God forbid that man should ever lay his touch on
one of these to "dress it and keep it." Nature's
attraction is in her very wildness, in her unconvention-
ality, and there are few spectacles more depressing than
that she presents as she emerges from the hands of the
artist. Should she ever be brought completely under
subjection, sport will be deprived of its essential element
— the pursuit of the wild animal in its natural environ-

16

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

ment. The prospect, however, need give us no concern,
for long- before her subjugation is accomplished we
shall probably have lost the instincts of the chase.
While these remain to us, the sportsman's most ardent
desire will be to get away from the haunts of his
fellows, to penetrate the wilderness, to be alone in the
"forest primeval." The more remote from human
intrusion, the wilder and more primitive his surround-
ings, the greater his delight. There is no joy to the
angler in plying his lure in an aquarium, nor to the
big-game hunter in pursuing a semi-domesticated prey
through the simple intricacies of an artificial jungle.

That is why sport on Loch
Leven is comparatively tame
and uninteresting. It is tainted
with commercialism. It is sport
reduced to business. It sug-
gests the game of Aunt Sally
at a country fair. You shy
sticks, three shies a penny, at
a grotesque figure set up in a
corner, and accurate markmanship is re-
warded with a cocoa-nut. You get, as the
showman says, " Fun for your money, and
the nuts for nawthin'." The angler on

INTRODUCTORY 17

Loch Leven pays, at much the same rate, for the
privilege of shying at the trout, and with luck and
a little skill, he, too, has his reward — and a very
handsome reward it sometimes is. He casts his
fly — in competitions — into the glaucous-green water,
and tries to persuade himself that he is occupied
in sport. Somewhere behind his consciousness, how-
ever, there lurks an uneasy feeling that his occupation
is not genuine sport ; that it lacks the condition which
gives to genuine sport its zest. The burn-fisher on
a far hillside, though his prize be insignificant in com-
parison, has more real pleasure in his pursuit. The
quarry he seeks is in a state of nature ; it owes nothing
to human care — except, perhaps, the care of the keeper
who guards its safety but refrains from interfering in
its domestic affairs ; it is not brought into being and
watchfully nursed through the perils of infancy to make
an angler's holiday.

It has been for years my privilege to fish a tiny
reservoir into which trout were at one time introduced.
No stream enters it and, in consequence, nature is
unable to maintain the stock. Though the fish it
contains are lusty and strong, and fight with a vigour
I have never seen surpassed, their capture yields but
little satisfaction ; they are living under artificial con-

18 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

ditions, and the angler knows it. The water holds no
surprises. It conceals no mystery. The number of fish
is known ; they can be counted. Since so many have
been put in, it suffices to subtract the number taken out
to arrive at that which remains — making, of course,
some allowance for a few the manner of whose dis-
solution has not been revealed to us. The trout are
intimates, and in fraudulently compassing their end, the
angler has the unpleasant feeling that, in the beautiful
language of God's Own Country, he is playing it low
down on them. He is taking; a mean advantage of
their confidence.

In one of her charming letters to her daughter
Madame de Grignan, Madame de Sevigne writes :
" Vous passez par dessus la possession de ce qu'on
desire pour y voir la separation ; " and, she continues,
" Quand on a ce qu'on desire, on est plus pres de le
perdre." Madame de Grignan was "si philosophe."
On " ce qu'on desire," she bestowed a thoughtfully
measured affection. That she might be spared the
pain inseparable from their loss, she was careful to
avoid too deep an interest in the things of time.
Unhappily, we are not all possessed of her philosophy,
or, as it was called by those who saw her through eyes
other than a mother's, her frigid temperament. Our

INTRODUCTORY 19

hearts are not so admirably disciplined. The knowledge
that the present will soon be taken from us and its
contents become "portions and parcels" of the past,
fills us with perturbing thoughts, and it is not in
resignation, but dismay, that we contemplate the part-
ing with an object of our love. The angler whose
opportunities are few, sometimes looks forward to his
unaccustomed holiday with strangely mixed emotions.
He counts, impatiently, the days that separate him from
it, yet sees their passing with regret. While longingly
awaiting its approach he would fain keep it in prospect.
He looks beyond it, and sees in its beginning the
beginning of the end. With its advent he becomes
still more uncomfortably conscious of the flight of time,
and since he is unable to prolong his pleasure seeks to
heighten its intensity. But he is unfortunate in his
methods. Patience abandons him. He pursues his
sport with a feverish energy which robs him entirely of
the tranquillity of mind essential to its enjoyment. In
his restless eagerness to improve the fleeting hour, he
is intolerant of interruption and his temper snaps at
a touch. He chafes and frets at every slight mischance,
while grave disaster excites him to a very hurricane of
wrath. He strives to wrest by force what is conferred
only by favour, and the more fiercely he struggles for

20

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

its possession the more firmly it is withheld from him.
Pleasure is not to be compelled ; it flees direct pursuit.
As a provision against unhappiness in age, angling
rivals whist. The superannuated angler, it is true,
will not find in it as in that misnamed " refuse for

o

the intellectually destitute,"
active employment for the
remnant of his mind, but it
provides him with a fund of
pleasant recollections which
help to brighten his declin-
ing days. Though, en-
feebled by years, he can
no longer wield the rod, he
may wander in thought by
the still loved stream, and enjoy again in all their first
intensity the pleasures of the past. Emotions of pain,
it has been mercifully ordained, are in their nature
evanescent. We remember that we suffered ; the
suffering itself can never be recalled. Time has its
atmosphere as well as space. In time, as in space,
distance throws a kindly veil over everything dis-
pleasing : smoothing away all asperities ; concealing all
offences ; substituting beauty for ugliness. Calamities
which threatened to destroy his earthly peace, the aged

INTRODUCTORY 21

fisherman reviews with wonder ; so faint, and far, and
insignificant they seem. Griefs, once heart-breaking,
are in the retrospect toned and softened to a tender
regret. The delights of his pursuit survive alone in
memory.

Looking back along the years, he sees the road his
feet have travelled marked, at intervals, by days that
rise above the common level. Probably there is one
pre-eminent above the rest. It may not have been
a day of great achievement : the day distinguished by
the capture of his largest trout ; the day he carried
home, with pardonable pride, the fish all others had
essayed in vain to circumvent ; the day capricious fate
surprised him with the success of his life. It may, on
the contrary, have been a day of small things : a day
without a stirring incident ; a calm, placid, even day on
which his thoughts pursued the tenor of their way
unvexed by violent emotions either of pleasure or of
pain. Just such a day is that enshrined for ever in my
memory. It was spent on a Border stream ; a tiny
mountain burn, across which, at its broadest, even the
angler approaching middle-age might leap without fear
of immersion. A prolonged shower had slightly raised
the volume of the water and rendered it perceptibly
opaque — with an opalescent opacity suggestive of the

22 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

presence of milk in it — but by noon the rain had ceased,
and during the remainder of the day, except when some
great white cloud, sweeping athwart the azure spaces
of the sky, obscured his rays, the sun smiled down
encouragement upon our efforts. It was a day on
which all things combined to promote the pleasure of
the angler. It was delightfully warm ; the light was
favourable — since I was successful ; and the wind,
though too high for perfect comfort, blew straight up
the rock-encumbered cleugh through which the little
burn ran gaily singing on its way to union with the
classic Tweed.

I have had days of larger gains, of heavier fish and
fish in greater numbers, but I can recall no day more
bright, more full of joy than that. It held no small
exasperations ; not once was I caught up or placed in
a position of the slightest difficulty. I met with no
disappointments ; I was aware of the utmost possi-
bilities of the puny stream, and the modest hope in
which I had approached it in the morning was more
than fulfilled when, at the close of day, I took down
my rod and reluctantly prepared to leave its banks. I
fished, too, with a detachment of mind, an interest in
the moment, in what I was doing rather than in what
I had done or might yet do, that was quite unusual.

INTRODUCTORY 23

I did not exercise man's prerogative of looking before
and after.

There was much delicate pleasure in whipping out
the dainty little trout, a pleasure simpler than that
involved in the capture of larger fish, since it was
unmixed with fear of their escape. What matter if
they did occasionally shake themselves free of the
hook and live to afford sport on other days to other
anglers. I was seeking to break no records, to beat
no competitors ; my pleasure was in the occupation,
not in its results, and a fish more or less in the basket
was neither here nor there. It was a day of unalloyed
if subdued happiness, and it left no unpleasant memories
behind it ; no disquieting regrets for opportunities
neglected, no unavailing reflections over what might
have been.

The charm of angling, its uncertainty, finds expres-
sion in the universal greeting of the fisherman, " What
luck ? " The breezy salutation is generally acknow-
ledged with cheerfulness, and answered more or less
veraciously, but there are those to whom it proves an
insurmountable offence. It wounds their self-love.
They resent the imputation on their skill. Their
success is ascribed to the favour of the gods ; they
prefer to believe it the reward of merit. Luck may be

24 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

responsible for their failures ; for a full creel they are
indebted to their own art.

But the angler's greeting involves a misconception.
To the thought it conveys there is no corresponding
reality. It embodies the conviction that slight and
isolated incidents, incidents occurring spasmodically
and not to be foreseen, are mere casual happenings
independent of causation. We conceive them as un-
related to anything by which they have been preceded.
We call them matters of chance, and dismiss them as
incapable of explanation. In enabling us to give
expression to our sense of the haphazard character of
nature's methods, the words chance, fortune, luck, serve
a necessary purpose, and may not be dispensed with —
even by those who deny the existence of the thing they
signify, and on whose lips they are merely an admission
of impotence to trace the hidden causes of events.

'Tis not in the angler to command success. There's
a Divinity that shapes his ends contrive them how he
may. He is in the hands of Fate. His results are
determined before he has cast a fly on the water ; were
determined, indeed, at that vague period, the Beginning.
His predestined victims are awaiting him ; he will find
them without fail in the place and at the hour appointed.
Of the disappointments in front of him, he has no

INTRODUCTORY 25

prevision, but they are within the knowledge of Omni-
science. In a world governed by law there is no room
for the miraculous. Nature is not "all in favour of
certainty in great laws and of uncertainty in small
events." The most trivial incident is inevitable ; hap-
pens of necessity ; could not happen otherwise. It is
but a link in an infinite chain of cause and effect.

" With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead.
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed :
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read."

The Mohammedan is justified in his belief in Kismet,
and the doctrine of Predestination is in harmony with
scientific thought. What shall be must be.

The luck of the tyro is proverbial. His friend,
wearied of the fruitless application of his art, invites
him to attempt a cast, and he complies. In the hands
of the angler the rod is a simple implement of sport ;
in his, it becomes a magic wand ; he waves it over the
water, and the fish rush to his call. He throws a
glamour o'er the trout, and to their enchanted eyes
his flies, artlessly as he casts them, appear in the
semblance of the most delectable of dainties.

Fortune, too, with customary fickleness, showers
her favours on the undeserving stranger. He pays
3

26 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

a flying visit to a water until then unknown to him,
and leaves it with the heaviest basket of the season, or
in possession of the great trout to which the habitues
have been for weeks assiduously, but vainly, devoting
all their energies.

I have been but once afloat on the bosom of that
Queen of Scottish Waters, the beautiful and famed
Loch Lomond, and my stay was of short duration.

We landed, my friend
and I, on the pier of
the little village of Luss,
in the midst of a storm
of wind and rain that
seemed portentous of a
second Deluge. But though, outside, the elements
were warring loudly, within the hotel their reigned
a depressing quiet. Members of the staff moved noise-
lessly about, while in the smoking-room moped a party
of dejected anglers, like another party in another place,
"all silent and" — apparently — "all damned"; more
dismal than mutes at a funeral, for their sorrow was
unfeigned. They had been given occasion for their
gloom. It was Friday evening, and the week seemed
likely to expire without witnessing the capture of a fish.
Our prospects, painted in hope's richest hues, became

INTRODUCTORY 27

at once an uninviting monochrome in grey. We
assumed the prevailing tone.

But though grief may endure for a night, joy cometh
in the morning. The following day broke bright and
sunny, and its radiance was communicated to our
thoughts. After an early breakfast, despatched in
haste, we embarked under the care of the genial John
M'Kellar, whose cheery optimism dispelled all that
remained of our fears, and awoke our hopes anew.

" What do you think of the day ? " we asked, as
our barque was launched upon the deep.

"I like the look o't," was the reply, "though the
win' micht be a wee thing heavier. But it'll maybe
rise gin twelve o'clock, an' if it does we should get a
fish ; yesterday's rain must hae brocht some up."

" Where will you take us ? " we next enquired,
although in our ignorance of the water his answer was
unlikely to instruct us much.

" I'll tak ye," said he, " to the Rhu Point ; if there's
a sawmon aboot at a' it'll be there. But mind ye," he
warned us, " there's twa boats aheid o' us, an' I wudna
wunner but they'll hae gruppit onything that's gaun."

As we had only a few hours at our disposal and
were anxious to multiply our chances, we each put out
a trolling-rod, while with our fly-rods we cast industri-

28 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

ously to leeward as the boat was rowed leisurely along
the shore. Fortune befriended us. The boatman's
sanguine forecast was abundantly fulfilled, and his fear
of the fishermen in front of us was proved to have
been groundless. Breathlessly expectant, we were
just rounding the pleonastically-named Rhu Point
when my companion — who occupied the stern — casting
his fly-rod hurriedly aside threw himself upon his
trolling-rod and raised it high in air. While I was
still speculating on the reason of his flurry, the great
stone which held my line in check was jerked with a
clatter to the bottom of the boat, my
reel emitted the prolonged scream so
dear to the ears of the angler, and my
rod, becoming violently convulsed, dis-
played an alarming disposition to plunge
into the loch.

" It's the grun' ! " cried John in
accents of dismay.

" No it's not the ground ! " I shouted

in reply, "but the confounded fish has

fouled my minnow."

Even as I spoke, however, my friend's salmon

sprang from the water forty yards away. As my line

maintained an almost vertical direction, and my rod

INTRODUCTORY 29

continued to behave as if possessed, it was obvious
that John and I were both in error. Each minnow-
had successfully allured a fish.

In the experience of the boatman the incident was
unprecedented, and it had on him a singular effect.
Excitement overwhelmed him. The very boat, thrill-
ing through all her timbers, seemed to share his
perturbation as net in hand he sat tremblingly awaiting
the event. He was, for the moment, incapable of
action ; had the fish come quickly to the surface, we
must have been deprived of his assistance in reducing
them into possession. Even the faculty of speech
forsook him ; not until the first tumultuous upheaval
of surprise subsided did his whirling thoughts find
utterance. "It beats a','' he falteringly exclaimed,
when his tongue at length resumed its office ; " I've
fi'fished-this loch-for-fi'five an' twenty year-an' I've
ne'never seen-the li'like o' that before." Happily his
agitation quickly passed, and by the time we were
ready for his intervention his hand had quite regained
its accustomed skill. But it was long before he ceased
to wonder at our amazing- luck.

Since, when the cook exposed its internal anatomy,
it was discovered that my fish was filled with ripening
ova, I am disposed to question the accuracy of the

30 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

gentleman who had so confidently assured me that it
was a male. It is, I think, more likely that he was not
quite so well informed as he supposed than that nature
had produced a miracle.

The angler evokes my admiration. I contemplate
his wide and varied knowledge with respectful awe,
and marvel at the intelligence displayed in its collection.
Nothing escapes his quick perception. Even the mind
of the trout is an open book in which he reads with
fluency. He apprehends the inmost thought of that
surprising fish and has a ready explanation of its every
action. If, at times, I find his explanation unconvincing,
it is possibly because of my obtuseness. Once, em-
bittered by repeated disappointment, I asked a brother
angler why, since they were evidently not in quest of
food, the salmon and the sea-trout were leaping in such
numbers and so actively. " I thought everybody knew
that ! " was his reply. " They are on their way to the
redds, but as they are uncertain of the distance they
have yet to travel, they are rising with the object of
ascertaining their position in the stream." I was
reduced to a condition of abject humility ; the solution
of a problem so absurdly simple should have been
obvious to the meanest understanding. But this is a
digression.

INTRODUCTORY 31

Though the angler is convinced that his pastime is
a lottery in which the chances are often in favour of
the trout, he is regardless of omens. He is a firm
believer in luck, but he is without the small supersti-
tions by which the professional fisherman directs his
conduct. In a casual meeting with the harmless,
necessary cat, he perceives no
presage of evil, nor does the
sight of an errant hare loping
aimlessly across his path fill
him with disquieting forebod- 7-
ings of mishap. To him it is
a matter of indifference with
which foot he first touches the

floor as he gets up to greet the morn. In his uncon-
cern— not to mention his enthusiasm for the chase — he
escapes the temptation which occasionally assails the
man to whom the fish is a precarious means of liveli-
hood, not a source of exquisite delight. He does not,
when the wind is in the chimney and the rain is on
the roof, cautiously project the limb he knows to be
unlucky, and then withdrawing it, thank whatever gods
he worships that since the signs are unpropitious he
need not yet abandon the luxury of bed. The angler
finds nothing auspicious — ^or otherwise — in the flight of

32 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

birds, and the only entrails which interest him are the
entrails of the silk-worm. When he scans the heavens,
or taps the barometer, or notes the direction of the
wind, he is not in search of auguries ; his purpose is
eminently reasonable.

If the angler would possess his soul
in the quiet befitting his pursuit and
enjoy a future undistressed by rankling
memories of avoidable disaster he should
cultivate habits of order and precision.
He should be all that, as Mr. Lang him-
self admits, Mr. Andrew Lang is not.
The author of Angling Sketches — and a few other
things — need not be taken too seriously, but whether
truth or fiction the Confessions of a Duffer conveys a
useful moral. When, for the first time, I read these
voluntary revelations of a hopeless inefficiency, I
seemed to dream. They were strangely familiar.
Staring at me from the printed page I saw an
accurate reflection of my own unhappy character ; my
absence of mind, my lack of foresight, my tendency to
let things drift, trusting in simple — very simple — faith
that a kindly Providence would intervene to save
me from the consequences of my ineptitude. That

INTRODUCTORY 33

Heaven helps those that help themselves I know,
but I am upheld by a forlorn hope that it occasionally
helps the helpless. Like Mr. Lang, I am a duffer, but
unlike him I am a discontented duffer. I am not
resigned ; on the contrary, I am ever striving to
escape the bonds within which nature has confined
me, and find it hard to accept the inevitable failure of
my efforts. Mr. Lang neglects to fasten the various
pieces of his rod ; so do I. I resemble him, too, in
the frequency with which I smash my tops. But I am
capable of a feat he does not seem to have achieved ;
I can lay my rod on the ground beside me and,
immediately forgetting it, place a heavy foot across its
middle joint. He is always being hung up ; if there
be within reach anything to which my flies can form
an attachment, it is discovered with fatal certainty.
To the lips of a trout alone do they show a consistent
aversion. Since I rarely employ the lure I never
look as if a " shoal of fierce minnows had attacked
me," but I invariably return from the water bristling
with flies.

Should I, by accident, hook a fish of size, the
paralysis of terror overcomes me. With heart in
moulh, and every limb a-tremble, I stand helplessly

34

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

bewildered on the bank and watch my quarry while, in
his efforts to escape, he leisurely proceeds to exercise
the appalling ingenuity for which he is distinguished.
And his purpose is easily accomplished ; few and
simple are the devices to which he finds it needful to
resort. Immediate success, it is true, does not invari-
ably attend him, but if, when apparently exhausted and
about to yield, he suddenly renews the struggle to be
free, he is sure to catch me unprepared. Taken by
surprise I part with what little wit is left me, — and,
flaunting a triumphant tail, he is away.

Mr. Lang's waders some-
times admit water. How is
it discharged ? If in a mo-
ment of forgetfulness or in his
eagerness to reach a rising fish
he has gone beyond his depth,
and filled his waders to the
brim, has he climbed laborious-
ly up the bank and, lying on
his back, raised legs into the air under the im-
pression— which he quickly and unpleasantly found
to be erroneous — that the water would escape as it
had gone in .'*

INTRODUCTORY

35

No, Mr. Lang is not alone in the possession of an
enthusiasm which compels him to the stream, and of
an incompetence which makes him the unhappiest of
men when there.

CHAPTER II

THE FLY

O problem of interest to
the angler has excited
livelier controversy than
that which concerns the
dressing of the lure. The
Engrlishman asserts that
success in fly-fishing is
to be attained only by
the use of an accurate
imitation of the fly disporting on the water ; the
Scotsman is convinced that the trout is catholic in
his tastes, and, when on the rise, readily and cheer-
fully takes any lure that bears the semblance of an
insect. Neither the quasi-scientific nor the avowedly
rule-of-thumb practitioner has any difficulty in pro-
ducing abundant evidence of the efficacy of his method
— and the conclusive testimony with which each sup-
ports his case gives countenance to the contention of
the Scot.

THE FLY 37

My own experience tends to confirm that of my
fellow-countrymen. Like them I have found, or
(since in matters of angling it is wise to speak with
diffidence) fancy that I have found, that when the
trout is disinclined for food the most seductive-looking
lure is passed over him in vain, but that when absti-
nence has given an edge to his appetite the angler
may offer him anything — in reason — he pleases, satis-
fied that it will not be refused. Once only have the
trout seemed to me to show a decided preference for a
particular fly, and on that occasion their choice was a
small Red Hackle. With that lure I had, during the
morning, secured a modest success, but ,

sport was quiet until mid-day when the trout
began to rise languidly and in small num-
bers to a little ephemera, a fly much too
delicately beautiful for imitation. Willing,
however, to meet what seemed their wishes,
I mounted a Greenwell's Glory, the closest
approach to the object of their attention I possessed,
but they would have none of it ; they ignored it
entirely, and continued to display an unabated affec-
tion for the hackle, unlike though it was to the fly
that was "up."

The incident lends some support to the assertion

38 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

that the angler will sometimes obtain less pleasure
from an imperfect imitation of, than from a lure which
bears no likeness to, the fly on the water — which
suggests that the origin of the system so popular
beyond the Border is not far to seek. The happiest
imitation of the natural fly leaves much to be desired ;
is, indeed, but little better than a travesty of the
original, and it probably succeeds, not because it is
like, but because it is unlike, the object it misre-
presents.

Those who plead the cause of the English School
will have a sounder case when their practice and their
theories conform, and they have not only ceased to
employ lures dressed in the likeness of, no one knows
what, but have succeeded in producing an artificial fly
bearing an approximate resemblance to the thing it is
meant to simulate. The artificial fly is often a marvel
of art, extremely creditable to the mind which con-
ceived it and the hands by which it was wrought, but I
have not yet seen one that could for a moment be con-
founded with its prototype except — except by the trout,
I was about to say, though I am by no means sure that
even when he does take it, that fish mistakes it for the
original. The unprejudiced — and unimaginative —
reader who compares a natural fly with the most life-

THE FLY 39

like image of it designed by man, will have some diffi-
culty in perceiving the resemblance between them.
The points in which they are alike are few and obscure;
the distinctions many and obtrusive. If the unlikeness
is obvious to the eye of man it should leap to the eye
of a creature so quick of sight that, as we are con-
fidently assured, it unfailingly detects the most trifling
departure from nature even in the dark ; so keenly
observant that, though it gets but a passing glimpse of
it, it rejects a fly because of some abnormality of colour
so minute as to escape our dull, imperfect vision.

The latest and most strenuous advocate of the imita-
tion of nature theory confesses his faith in the following
words: — "You may not raise fish by plying lures in
imitation of insects on the water or due to be there, but
if you do not you will certainly be unsuccessful with
others." The truth of the statement is unassailable,
but it would be quite as true were it transposed. You
may fail to raise fish by employing lures not in imitation
of the fly on the water or due to be there, but if you do
fail, you are unlikely to succeed with those that are.

The writer in question possesses strong convictions.
He is satisfied that the use of a lure dressed in the like-
ness of a natural fly is essential to success. A fly
evolved from the inner consciousness of the angler

40 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

desirous of providing the trout with a captivating
novelty may be pleasing to the eye of its creator but
has no charm for the fish. Unfortunately for his con-
sistency, he publishes a list of what he believes to be
exact imitations. It would be interesting to learn what
they imitate. Some are certainly recognised efforts to
reproduce, in fur and feather, the beauties of known
insects ; for the majority we are indebted to the whim
or to the fancy of the maker. The author, to be sure,
affirms that each is representative of an object in nature,
but we must be forgiven if we refuse to accept the
affirmation. It does not appeal to our reason and it is
contradicted by our knowledge. Many, even of those
who maintain the general superiority of the English
system, admit that, at times, the trout reject the most
truthful simulacrum of the natural insect for a purely
"fancy fly." He is an exception. He asserts that the
trout are to be enticed only by means of a perfect imita-
tion of something with which they are familiar, and,
apparently in an effort to save the situation, he seeks
to persuade us that in the ready reception occasionally
given even to our most fanciful invention we have
evidence of its relation to a living prototype. The
angler may be all unconscious of the identity of the
insect on which his lure is modelled ; may, indeed, have

GOT HIM 1

THE FLY 41

the best of reasons for believing that it is modelled on
none, but his ignorance is not shared by his quarry.
That his artificial fly is taken by the fish proves beyond
dispute that it is the counterpart of something within
their knowledge.

That the professed follower of nature's teaching per-
mits himself the use of lures for which she affords no
sanction is not, perhaps, a very serious offence ; it is but
one of the little eccentricities which mark his practice
and proves entirely harmless. It is, however, astound-
ing to find him employing a variety of artificial flies all
bearing the same name and all, no matter how dis-
similar their characters, posing as the counterfeit pre-
sentments of the same original.

I have before me several illustrations of the fly
known as the February Red. They provide us with a
valuable object lesson. They expose the hollowness of
the fisherman's belief that he is necessarily fishing with
a lure dressed in the likeness of nature because it bears
the name of a known fly. The ground of his convic-
tions does not stand investigation. His sincerity is
above suspicion, but in the ease with which he permits
himself to be deceived he displays a singular credulity.
In simple confidence, he accepts his flies from those
who, he trusts, know more of entomology than he ;
4

42 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

or he makes them for himself, and, like many another
artist, is blind to the imperfections of his own art.

It is an axiom of Euclid that things which are equal
to the same thing are equal to one another, but the
flies under observation are so unlike that they have
nothing in common save the name — and the possession
of a barb. They are far from being equal to one
another, and still farther from equality with the same
thing. Reference to the Coloured Plate will at once
reveal to the reader the difference between them and
between any one of them and- the real February Red.
Fig. I represents the natural fly ; Fig. 2 the fly as con-
ceived by a writer on angling, who, for convenience,
may be designated A. ; Figs. 3 and 4 are reproduced
with as much fidelity as possible from a recent work
by B. Curiously enough the authors referred to are
both Scotsmen.

The members of no species of insect present absolute
uniformity of character. While exhibiting a general
family resemblance, they vary both in size and colour.
One "hatch," too, may differ slightly from another, and
in some species of Ephemeridse there is a decided dis-
tinction between the sexes. As regards colour, Stewart
offered to show to his readers "a Mayfly almost black
and a Mayfly almost yellow and of all the intermediate

Fig. I.

^^ M'

^0^

Fig. 2.

Fig. 3-

Fig. 4.

Fig. 5-

Fig. 6.

Fig. 7.

Fig. 8.

Fig. 9.

(^ (^ CT?

Fig. lo.

Fig. II.

Fig. 12.

THE FLY 43

shades." Since, therefore, the natural February Reds
are not all alike, a slight diversity among the angler's
imitations is quite legitimate. The lure may vary
within the limits prescribed by nature without sacri-
ficing its claim to be considered representative of the
natural fly. But the divergencies which exist among
the flies I am considering are not individual ; are not
even varietal ; they are specific, and it is impossible to
believe that these flies are all dressed on the same
model. They do not represent one, but several, species
of fly— if they can be truthfully said to represent any-
thing. The variety they display would be surprising
enough if they embodied the conceptions of different
artists ; it is quite confounding to discover in B.'s book
two examples of the fly so utterly unlike that even the
assurance of the text fails to persuade us that they are
the same. They cannot both be right, but they may
both be wrong — as indeed they are. A cursory exam-
ination of the Plate will suffice to show that in neither
are the features of the natural fly reproduced with even
an approach to accuracy. Were the trout possessed of
a fraction of the intelligence with which we credit him
he would detect their unreality at a glance. It is im-
possible that in a good light and with time for even
hasty observation he can perceive a likeness between

44 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

things so far apart. Yet, though B.'s examples of the
February Red are so unlike I have no doubt that he
employs both in equal confidence ; when angling with
either he is probably quite sincere in his persuasion that
he is offering the trout an exact " imitation of the fly
on the water or due to be there."

The writer whom I have designated A. assures us,
gravely, that to be efficient the imitation must be per-
fect ; the natural fly must be reproduced in "all its
delicacy and grace." Fig. 2 illustrates his easily satis-
fied conception of a perfect imitation. In his case, it is
true, some allowance must be made for the crude
quality of his art ; but however indulgently we treat
his pictured representation of the fly in question, its
resemblance to the original eludes detection.

The February Red is not alone ; there are others
whose identity is quite as carefully concealed. Figs. 5,
6, 7, and 8 represent the Alder with several of its
alleged presentments. While these bear a general
resemblance to each other, they vary in details unlikely
to escape the least observant. Fig. 8 is dressed with a
dark hackle ; Figs. 6 and 7 with hackles of a warm
ginger colour ; the last is furnished with a " whisk," an
ornament with which the natural fly is not adorned.
The remaining figures illustrate the Sand-Fly, real and

THE FLY 45

unreal. The artist in fly-dressing has, on the whole,
been happier in his efforts to reproduce the perfection
of nature in this than in the other flies chosen for illus-
tration, but he is still far short of the attainment of an
assured success. Fig. 12 is, in the colour and the atti-
tude of the wings, ridiculously unlike its prototype, and
the difference between it and Fig. 2 from the same work
is so slight as to be almost imperceptible.

A. and B. are earnest advocates of the system they
espouse. They are convinced believers in the doctrines
of their cult. Since, however, the evidence with which
they endeavour to promote their cause excites to scep-
ticism rather than to faith, their missionary efforts are
unlikely to induce the unbeliever to forsake his unbelief.
The conflict between their words and the pictorial re-
productions of the lures they use is much too obvious.
Had they refrained from illustration we might have
been persuaded that their case was good, but in pro-
viding us with a means of contrasting their practice with
their theories they have foolishly betrayed themselves.
They tell us, quite sincerely, that in the construction of
the artificial fly they follow nature's teaching ; it will be
long before they overtake the object of their chase.

If the trout fail to see the distinction between A.'s
representation of the February Red and those of B., or

46 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

be capable of confounding any of them with the original,
they are not particularly exacting critics, and, in his
choice of flies, the angler has no occasion to be more
fastidious than they.

The angler who considers it necessary to present
the trout with an accurate imitation of the fly which is
up, must of course give thoughtful attention to that
which is in season. There has been published lately
an instructive work on fly-fishing, embellished with
numerous illustrations of a great variety of artificial
flies artfully arranged to suit — the fancy of the arranger.
Since we are without information to the contrary, the
list, it appears, is to be considered applicable to the
entire country. Though several degrees of latitude
separate Caithness from Cornwall, the insect enjoying
its little day in the Duchy is assumed to be simul-
taneously on the wing in the northern county. That
the appearance of a fly in the south probably anticipates
by some days, at least, that of its cousin at the other
extremity of our island is a matter of no concern.

These illustrations are extremely interesting for the
beauty of the art with which the artificial flies are re-
produced ; they are a triumph of colour-printing, but
that they have any practical value for the angler he may
take leave to doubt.

THE FLY 47

The author's manner is not that of nature. He
adheres too closely to the calendar. His distinctions
are absolute. He draws a sharp line of demarcation
between the months. The fly which the angler finds
attractive on the evening of the 30th of April is ignored
by the trout on the morning of May-day. Occasionally
we encounter on the list, a fly the seductiveness of which
outlasts the month ; sometimes one that, having, for a
brief period, ceased to enjoy the confidence of the fickle
fish, returns to favour later in the season. The prin-
ciple on which the catalogue has been compiled is not
easily discovered. There is no difficulty in assigning
a season to the natural fly, but what of the fly that
owes its being to the angler's fancy ? We are, it is
true, assured that the list contains no fly without its
prototype in nature, but the assurance is unsupported
by the slightest evidence. Is there any available ? If
so, it is to be regretted that it has been withheld from
us. In disclosing the identity of lures which we and
their creators have been accustomed to regard as mere
abstractions, its production would provide us with some
startling information. The method of our author would
be found less arbitrary than, to our ignorance, it appears,
and we should discover his occult reasons for the
classification of the artificial fly according to a scheme

48 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

so obviously without a basis in experience. We should
learn, for instance, why the employment of the Soldier
Palmer, a fly accepted freely by the trout in May, is
properly restricted to July, and why the Zulu, whose

charm is exercised successfully
the season through, should be
withdrawn from the seclusion
which the wallet grants, only
when, in April and again in
August, circumstances justify
its liberation.
The statement that the trout refuse the imitation of
a fly which is out of season is not, on the face of it,
incredible, but to affirm that he makes seasonal dis-
tinctions among lures the product entirely of human
ingenuity, is absurd. Nor is the fly in season neces-
sarily that which the trout prefers ; it is conceivable
that there are others for which he has a greater liking,
and that when he rejects the feathered image of the
fly which is or might be up, in favour of another of a
different character, it is because he sees in the latter
something more pleasing to his taste.

One gathers from the literature of angling that its
colour is the only feature of the lure with which the
angler has occasion to concern himself ; the trout fails

THE FLY 49

to appreciate fidelity of line and he is but an indifferent
arithmetician. In external conformation the artificial
fly need bear little or no resemblance to its prototype,
and the number of legs with which it is provided is at
the discretion of the maker. Since it seems, however,
that the highly sophisticated chalk-stream trout have
developed a rudimentary sense of number and no longer
accept a fly until satisfied that it is in possession of the
normal complement of feet, the Hampshire angler should
cease to confine his solicitude entirely to the colour of
his lure. Such, at any rate, is the opinion of one in-
genious and observant dry-fly fisherman. Finding the
trout regardless of his artifice, and determined, if pos-
sible, to know the reason why, he caught one of the
flies with which they were engaged and subjected it to
careful and minute examination. The result surprised
him. He discovered the interesting and hitherto un-
suspected fact that, while his lure was furnished with
quite a multitude of legs, the natural insect owned
but — eipfht ! The secret of his failure was revealed to
him, and the remedy proved simple ; he removed the
superfluous hackle and with it the indifference of the
fish. The flies once rejected and despised were then
taken with an avidity which suggested that, as amended,
they were even more natural than nature herself.

50

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

The gentleman is not alone ; there are others on
whose minds has dawned the thougfht that the colour
of the lure is scarcely more important than its form.
To one of these we are indebted for the information
that "The wings of the fly should be dressed so as to
be distinctly apart both in the water and out of it." To
dress the lure in the fashion he prescribes is, he declares,
to give it a more life-like appearance. He is mistaken.
To provide the artificial fly with outspread wings is not
necessarily to impart to it the aspect of vitality ; on the
contrary, it may be to advertise the fact that it is
counterfeit. What semblance of reality it exhibits in
the air is lost the moment it becomes submerged.
Neither to the fish nor to the fisher has it ever chanced,
to see beneath the surface of the water
an insect in the attitude of flight.

" The flies," says another writer,
"which are most successful when sunk
are precisely those which most closely re-
semble the 'creepers' (sic) of Ephemerids."
Curiously enough, the writer, in illustra-
tion of his point, has selected that well-
known fly, the Green well's Glory. His
choice could scarcely have been more un-
fortunate. The statement that the flies

THE FLY 51

which are most successful when sunk are precisely those
which most closely resemble, not the so-called creepers,
but the nymphse of Ephemerids, bears the impress of
truth ; it is certainly based in reason, and is just what
a knowledge of insect life and of the habits of the trout
would lead us to expect. That, however, the Green-
well's Glory is one of these flies is more than doubtful.
The resemblance between that lure, with its prominent,
upstanding wings, and the practically wingless nymph
is not easily perceived. Than the Greenwell's Glory
there are few flies less like what, according to the
author quoted, they are supposed to represent. If «it
resembles anything at all, it is the imago of an Ephem-
erid, and its place on the cast is as upper dropper ; that
is, it should be fished as close to the surface as pos-
sible. Not that the situation in which they find it
is likely to make the slightest difference to the fish,
but it should please the angler to know that he is
treading the path prescribed for him by nature.
Whether he submerges his Greenwell's Glory or re-
tains it as near the surface as wet-fly methods let
him, will not seriously affect the weight of his basket ;
in the first case, however, his practice is purely
empirical, while in the second he has the satisfaction
of feeling that it is conducted on scientific principles.

52 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

If he desires to be thoroughly scientific he will em-
ploy the fly dry.

The merely human eye is incapable of distinguishing
the colour of an opaque object viewed against the light,
but the physical conditions which lin)it, the vision of
man appear to leave the vision of the trout unfettered.
That amazing fish discriminates instantly and easily
between two closely allied shades of colour even in the
dark, or when seen against the sky or through the
medium of several feet of broken and discoloured water.
Not all the evidence arrayed in its defence can persuade
us to believe it.

The fish which perceives nothing unusual in the
abnormal anatomy of the artificial fly is unlikely to have
his apprehension roused by a slight, or even by a con-
siderable, anomaly of colour. Not, perhaps, that colour
is altogether without importance ; there is a general
agreement even among those who scoff at the innocent
faith of the ardent worshippers at Nature's shrine, that
the fish is not uninfluenced by the colour of the lure.
But they find the trout inconstant in his affections ; the
colour which to-day attracts his roving fancy, to-morrow
lacks all charm for him. Stewart, the characteristic
feature of whose Practical Angler is strong common-
sense, — in many things we think alike — was of opinion

THE FLY 53

that certain colours are more fatally fascinating to the
trout than others, not because they bear a closer re-
semblance to those of the natural fly, but because they
are more readily detected. They do not deceive the
trout ; they merely attract his attention. In the dusk
a light fly is more successful than a dark by reason of
its greater visibility, not because of its superior se-
ductiveness. The artifice of the dark fly may be as
skilfully concealed, but in the gathering gloom its
presence on the water is less easily perceived. Could
Stewart revisit the glimpses of the moon, his views
would probably be found to coincide with those of
Sir Herbert Maxwell, for it is obvious that in his
discussion of the artificial fly he is less concerned
about its colour than its tone.

Even on a question so simple as this, however,
anglers are still far from unanimity. While agreeing
that the colour of the lure should suit that of the
water and the quantity and the quality of the light, they
are widely divergent in their conceptions of the means
by which the desired harmony is to be attained. We
are advised by one to employ a dark fly for a dull day
or a brown water, and a light fly for a bright day or a
clear water, while in the opinion of another we should
adopt a practice diametrically opposed to that In a

54 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

multitude of counsellors there is said to be wisdom ; in
a multitude of anglers one need look for nothing save
confusion. Personally, I have seldom had occasion to
suppose that the colour of my flies played an important
part in my success — or failure ; I am doubtful if my
results were seriously affected even by the depth or the
lightness of their tone. Once only, as I have already
said, have I been satisfied that the trout deliberately
selected one among the many flies of which I offered
them a choice, and on that occasion their fancy did not
stray. Whether the water sparkled in the light of a
burning sun or grew dull and leaden under a lowering
sky, they remained steadfast in their affection for a Red
Hackle. Their constancy was admirable. It seemed
that I had at last discovered that thing of myth, the fly
peculiar to the water ; but should fate again grant me
an opportunity of seeking the infrequent trout of Ran-
noch, I shall not be surprised to find their love trans-
ferred to quite another variety of lure.

We really know nothing of the way in which the eye
of the trout is affected by the colour of our flies. The
subject is the theme of unending discussion ; discussion
which is barren of result and leaves us just as ignorant
as before. We speculate and theorise, but our theories,
spun from broken threads of knowledge, we fail to

THE FLY 55

weave into a sound coherent fabric of belief In the
very diversity of our opinions is evidence enough of
the fragmentary character of the information on which
they rest.

It is, with the angler, an article of faith that for
every water there is a specific fly without which he
fishes it in vain. Eager and hungry trout may be
springing all around him, but his efforts to entice them
are of no avail if among the treasures of his wallet he
has failed to include the sole object of their desire.
Though the belief is universal, it rests on a basis of
very uncertain stability ; or, to be accurate, of very
certain instability. It has been handed down to us,
and we accept it, as we accept many more important
things in life, without question. It is so much easier
to acquiesce in opinions already formed than to form
opinions of our own. Man is by nature indolent, and
the angler, being human, pursues the path of least re-
sistance ; he fares along the beaten track. He follows,
undoubting, the tradition which bids him employ a
particular fly for a particular water, and, following it,
finds it justified by his success. His experience con-
firms and assists in perpetuating, it. It is to be re-
gretted that he so rarely puts it to the proof ; the occa-
sional employment of a lure other than that to which

56 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

the affections of the trout are said to be exclusively
confined would certainly convince him that it is quite
unworthy of his confidence.

I have been told so frequently that there was but
one counterfeit presentment of a fly to the charms of
which the trout in the water I was about to fish were
at all susceptible, and have so frequently disproved the
statement, that I have long ceased to regard it. It
never influences my practice, yet where others succeed
in taking trout I seldom entirely fail, and sometimes it
happens that at the end of the day my basket is much
less easily carried than that of the knowing gentleman
by whom I have been informed in the morning that my
flies were " neither of the right size nor the right colour
for this water." Long experience has convinced me
that the prejudice ascribed to the fish is really owned
by the fisher.

Some years ago I fished a Highland loch, of which
we learn from that veracious chronicler, Mr. E. Watson
Lyall, that on it " Largish flies are best, with body not
too heavy and a full wing." My old gillie maintained
a discreet silence as he watched my preparations for
the chase, but speech is not our only medium of ex-
pression, and his face was eloquent of the nature of his
thoughts. It betrayed a disapproval of my methods

THE FLY 57

he was too polite to put into words. My flies were
so-called Spiders, small — Nos. 2 and 3, new scale —
and lightly dressed, and the contrast be-
tween them and those habitually in use
evidently filled him with forebodings of a
dull, uninteresting time. He was paid to
take me on the water and provide me
with an opportunity of obtaining sport,
and he would earn his pay, but, his bear-
ing plainly said, if instead of devoting
myself to the legitimate purpose of my
presence on the loch I was pleased to seek amuse-
ment in toying with the dainty little trifles, I need not
look to him for even a pretence of sympathy with me
in my foolishness. When, however, he realized that
neither the Sportsman s Guide nor the traditions of the
loch were so entirely trustworthy as he had supposed ;
when he found that day after day my basket was regu-
larly twice the weight of that of any other angler on the
water, he gradually assumed a more cheerful air and
showed an increasing desire to provide me with enter-
tainment— he became even enthusiastic. Within a week,
he made a voluntary confession which revealed a mind
still open to new impressions : " I'm peginnin'," he ac-
knowledged, "to pelieve in the smaal flies after aal."
5

58 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Not every boatman, however, suffers in pained silence ;
many are much too ready to remonstrate with the angler
on what they, in their superior knowledge of the water,
conceive to be his ignorance.

" Whit kin' o' flees are
thae, sir ? " enquired my
Loch Leven boatman when,
for the first time, I prepared
to cast a fly within the
shadow of Queen Mary's castle.

"Flies?" I answered. "They're artificial flies, of
course."

" Fine I ken they're artifeecial flees ; but whit are
ye gaun to dae wi' them .-* " was the rejoinder; "ye're
no expeckin' to catch fish wi' them, are ye ? "

"Well, I did have that expectation. Indeed, it is
in the hope of catching fish that I am here."

" Weel, ye'll get nane ! " was the confident reply.
"No wi' them things onyway ; the troots in Loch Leven
'11 no look at a flee they're no accustomed to."

As my flies were as different as possible from the
Red and Teals, the Heckum Peckums, and the Wood-
cock and Hare's Ears with which the fish were so
familiar that they might have been thought to have
grown weary of them, the boatman's gloomy prediction

THE FLY 59

had every chance of being fulfilled had it been based on
reason. Probably he would have seen to its fulfilment,
no matter what its basis, had we been alone in the boat
together. It was, however, entirely falsified by the
result ; but that John's belief in the superior efficacy of
the flies the fish were "accustomed to" was shaken in
the least I had no ground for hope ; his mind was ob-
viously much less plastic than that of the ancient High-
lander already mentioned.

During a brief interval of leisure once spent on a
little loch which would be one of the most prolific
salmon and sea-trout waters in Scotland were the short
river of easy ascent by which it communicates with the
sea less cruelly harried by the net, I had ample reason
to suspect the justice of our faith in the "peculiar fly."
On entering the smoking-room of the hotel on the
evening of my arrival, I found it occupied by two
gentlemen whose employment indicated that they, too,
were devoted followers of Walton. The table at which
they sat was littered with fishing material of all kinds,
and in front of each lay open an enormous fly-book,
large as a family Bible, and filled to overflowing with
all sorts and conditions of artificial flies. They were
obviously engaged preparing for the morrow, and were
as earnest in their occupation as if life and death hung

60 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

upon the issue — as indeed it did. One of them, a
fisher of men as well as of trout, was painfully em-
barrassed by his riches. Irresolutely, in an aimless,
helpless kind of way, he fingered his fly-book, unable
to discover the thing he sought. Taking out fly after
fly, he examined each carefully a moment, and then
replaced it hesitatingly, as if not quite sure that, after
all, it might not be the very thing required. Even his
final decision was marked by
doubt and uncertainty ; he
seemed unconvinced of the
wisdom of his choice and to
be of two minds whether to
abide by his resolution or
return the flies selected to his book and begin his
search anew.

The other, a person of character, was quite un-
troubled by doubts. He knew, with a knowledge that
was absolute, knew, perhaps, better than they them-
selves what fly the fish desired, and made his choice
without a moment's hesitation. He was not of these
feeble folk for whom every question has another side,
and who waver and vacillate between conflicting
opinions, unable to determine which to choose. To
him decision was always easy ; he saw but one side,

THE FLY 61

and was quite unconscious of the possible existence of
a second. The suggestion that he might occasionally
err would have been received by him in blank amaze-
ment ; he was obviously incapable of entertaining the
conception. His self-confidence was unlimited, and he
was ready to resolve the difficulties of others as he
would have resolved his own — had he ever encountered
any. When his companion, unable to make up his
mind, appealed to him for aid, he responded with
alacrity, and pronounced his judgment with a finality
that was delightful.

It seemed that they had forgathered during the day
with an ancient native to whom the loch was an open
secret. He knew the lie of every fish and could fore-
tell, unerringly, the circumstances in which, and the
lure by means of which, it was to be seduced. There
was in the water nothingr hidden which had not been
revealed to him. So precise and accurate was his in-
formation and so mathematically certain his results, that
to him angling must have been deprived of all its charm.
He had arrangred to conduct them over the loch on the
following morning, and they were revelling in the pro-
spect of a success hitherto beyond their wildest dreams.

When their preparations were completed and they
were at leisure to turn their thoughts to things of less

62 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

importance, the layman, addressing me, asked if he
might see my flies. It appeared that I too was to
gather of the crumbs that fell from his table. The re-
quest filled me with dismay ; it was foolish, I know, but
I hesitated to expose my poverty in the presence of so
much wealth so ostentatiously displayed. Courtesy,
however, forbade a refusal, and reluctantly producing
the degraded remains of a once reputable fly-book, I
placed them in his hands. The wretched old book had
been in my possession for years, and had known much
adversity ; it had been times without number in the
basket among my fish ; it had been more than once in
the water ; and it had lain during an entire night on a
Highland hillside, exposed to the fury of the elements.
It was battered, and worn, and so decrepit that it
threatened to fall to pieces at a touch. It was, besides,
as thin, almost, as a shadow, for it held but the few flies
I had deemed sufficient for the short stay I intended
making at the inn. It was an object of pity, yet such as
it was I passed it to him. He received it gingerly, and
opened it with care, and glancing — a glance sufficed —
at its poor contents, said, in accents of commiseration
and contempt commingled, " Your flies are quite use-
less. Neither in size nor in colour are they at all suit-
able for this loch, and it will be miraculous if you take

THE FLY 63

a single fish with them. Besides," he added, "your
boatman is a stupid and ignorant fellow who knows
nothing of the water."

I was concerned to hear it, but suggested that my
prospects might be less dismal than he supposed. I
could not, I said, reasonably expect that a miracle
would be wrought in my favour, but I hoped that,
under Providence, even the incompetent gillie might
place me in the way of an occasional trout less severely
critical or hungrier than his fellows, "Your flies,"
he reiterated with an authority from which there was
no appeal, "are of no use whatever, and it is not
worth your while trying them. You may as well fish
the hillside."

But that I am a diffident man, easily put down by a
peremptory tone and manner, I should have hinted that
as this was his first experience of the water, and he had,
for quite three weeks, been whipping it in vain, his
knowledge of the idiosyncrasies of the fish it held and
of the particular harmony in colour with which alone
they were to be allured, might not possess the extreme
value he himself was inclined to place on it. Being,
however, the kind of person I describe, I received his
deliverance in becoming meekness — and retained my
own opinion.

64

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

We embarked next morning: they cheerful and con-
fident, encouraged by the presence of the master of the
mysteries of the loch — who, like the M 'Leans, had a

boat of his own — I de-
jected and despairing, in
the company of the dis-
paraged boatman, whose
lack of interest in our
doings and whose general
poverty of intelligence
seemed to confirm the
worst that had been said
of him. But the Devil is
not so black as he is
painted, and Donald proved much less ignorant and
incapable than he had been represented. It was not
his fault that our results were meagre. The prediction
that I should take no fish was not literally fulfilled ;
I did secure a few, but so few that the adverse
criticism of my poor flies was almost, if not quite,
justified by the event.

Disappointed, I returned to the hotel early in the
evening and awaited, with what philosophy I might,
the triumphant home-coming of the others and the in-
evitable " I told you so " when the insignificant result

THE FLY

65

of our day's labour was disclosed. I had not long to
wait. Presently they appeared in the doorway, but not
as I had expected. I had looked for faces beaming with
delight ; those I saw were wrapped in gloom. The
buoyant and hopeful adventurers of the morning- were
downcast and sad ; their unsubstantial castles in the air
had been blown to the four winds
of heaven. They were in no haste
to expose the contents of their
creels, and their manner did not
invite enquiry as to the quality of
the sport they had enjoyed. But
indeed there was no need to en-
quire. Their dispirited mien told
a plain tale, and I was filled with
unchristian glee as it gradually
came to light that their success
had been even less than my own.
On the day after, an indignant
fisher left the hotel shouting
threats of vengeance — by writing
to the Times in the usual manner of the Briton
with a grievance— against all by whom he had been
fraudulently induced to waste his time and his talents
on an empty loch. His retreat was too precipitate.

66 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Had he waited but twenty-four hours longer he would
have learned that the loch was not quite empty,
and the siofht of the mag^nificent basket of fish which
had succumbed to the flies so repugnant to their tastes
might possibly — a remote possibility — have convinced
him that, like the people down in Judee, he did not
know everything.

I have heard an angler express surprise that the
Coch-y-Bondhu should be taken by the trout in Scottish
waters, and, conversely, that a fly successful in Scotland
should be equally acceptable in Wales. Why should he
have been surprised ? Surely it would be astonishing
were it otherwise. The trout in the two countries are
of the same species ; they possess the same instincts,
the same desires, the same appetites, and with, perhaps,
some trifling variations in detail, subsist on
the same fare. These variations are not
due to any innate distinction between the
fish ; they are the result of local conditions.
They are not determined by the choice of
trout ; they are imposed on him from with-
out. In his diet he is necessarily restricted
to insects bred in his neighbourhood, but he
is unlikely to refuse a member of a foreign species,
even if he be capable of recognising it as foreign,

THE FLY

67

should it chance to stray his way. We know that he
will take a lure resembling, to the human eye at least,
nothing he has ever seen before ; the fancy fly, though
bearing a general resemblance to an insect, is unlike
anything specific, yet it is frequently accepted by the
trout without suspicion ; and the artificial May-fly is
sometimes highly successful where its prototype is quite
unknown. Though the Coch-y-Bondhu bears a Welsh
name, the little beetle in the likeness of which it is sup-
posed to be dressed is not confined to the Principality.
It is common, much too common, to the entire country.
Though local in its distri-
bution, it is found on many
waters, but even if it were
not, its imitation is so little
life-like that it probably re-
sembles, just as closely,
something else familiar to
the fish and for which it is
mistaken. That, at any
rate, is the ingenious hypo-
thesis by which Mr. Francis
Francis explains away the
success of the artificial fly
before the advent of the

68 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

natural insect. One wonders if the explanation is not
just as applicable to other instances of the trout's utter
indifference to the seasons about which the fisherman
concerns himself so anxiously.

The devotee of the dry-fly is pictured as a super-
fine person, between the wind and whose nobility
the humble wet-fly angler may not pass. In his
arrogance he assumes that he alone is entitled to
the name of sportsman, and for all forms of angling
save that he favours he manifests ineffable con-
tempt. They are rude and primitive methods of
essaying the capture of the trout ; good enough
for the amateur and the boy, but unworthy the
high ideals of the finished artist. He alone is the
" Compleat Angler." The deadliest insult you can
offer him is to suggest him capable of fishing with a
fly less dry than the Sahara or a Scotsman's humour.
The dry-fly is the only lure becoming a gentleman and
the dry-fly angler the highest product of evolution ;
something a breathless world has been awaiting from
the beginning of time. A recent writer imputes to him
a desire to "punch your nose" if you do not at once
acknowledge the infinite superiority of his methods.
He is too dainty a gentleman to do anything so rude.
Not that he is incapable of rudeness, but that his rude-

THE FLY 69

ness finds expression in words, not deeds ; in printed
words that do not expose him to the risk of immediate
physical retaliation. Of retaliation other than physical
he has no fear ; in his blatant self-conceit he is im-
pervious to the slings and arrows of adverse criti-
cism, and verbal abuse merely affects him with a
pained sense of the coarseness of his abuser. It
shocks his delicate sensibilities, but fails to reach his
intelHorence.

That is, I know, a libellously untrue rendering of
the character of the dry-fly man, but if it resembles, in
any respect, the likeness in which he appears to the
angling public, he has himself to blame. His enemies
are those of his own household, and he, more than any
one else, has cause to pray that he may be delivered
out of the hands of his friends. It is to one of his
fraternity we owe the contemptuous description of wet-
fly fishing as the " chuck and chance it system " — a
description significant of much.

In reality he is not the stupidly prejudiced person
some of his foolish advocates would lead us to believe.
While maintaining, as he has a perfect right to do, the
general superiority of the floating fly, he readily admits
its limitations. He knows that it is not of universal
application, and, in circumstances which preclude its

70

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

use, is not above employing the sunk fly. He has too
much good sense to deny himself a pleasure because
he is unable to pursue it in the manner he prefers.

I admire his method, which seems to me the very
perfection of fly-fishing. I envy him, too, the possession

of the qualities by the exercise
of which he attains success :
the untiring patience in which
he awaits a rise ; the self-
control which curbs his eager-
ness as, like the noble Red
Man, he creeps stealthily to-
wards his prey ; the skill with
which he wields his rod and
deftly drops his fly on the
exact spot aimed at. His
practice is excellent, but I
have little sympathy with his theories. His rigid adher-
ence to the use of an imitation of the fly that is " up " ;
the employment of the microscope in the construction
of his lures that they may resemble — in colour — to the
shadow of a shade the natural insects in the image of
which they are dressed ; the elaborate care expended on
his efforts to prevent his lure from dragging ; all give
increase of zest to his sport if, possibly, they add little

THE FLY 71

to the weight of his creel. The much feared drag, at
least, must surely be of trifling moment since it is a
spectacle to which the trout are thoroughly accustomed.
In the obvious wake by which the water-cricket, the
caddis-fly, the whirligig-beetle, and many other insects
betray their course along the water the fish see nothing
to excite their fears. It is true that a fly floating pas-
sively on the stream does not produce a drag, but the
trout is unlikely to flee from it in ridiculous alarm if on
some rare occasion it should provide him with such
evidence of active life. Mr. W. Earl Hodgson relates
the following incident: — "When," he says, "it was
time to ofo in for luncheon at Swinford Old Manor I
had only one trout. My friend had seven splendid
fish nearly a pound in weight to lay before the Poet

Laureate's delighted gaze. As Captain L , I had

noticed, had been casting down stream and making
the fly run up against the current by long pulls, this
was a surprise to me, but the explanation, exceedingly
instructive, was at hand. ' What fly ? ' asked our host
enthusiastically. ' I do not know its name, but here it
is,' answered the fisherman." The lure was a water-
cricket. I quite agree with Mr. Hodgson that his
friend's success with a fly which produced a drag on
the water, and such a drag, was exceedingly instructive,

72 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

but I fear that his interpretation of the facts and mine
will not be found to correspond.

The use of the microscope in fly-dressing is a refine-
ment of the art which borders on the farcical and affords
the scorner an opportunity he is unlikely to neglect.
It is one of the absurd vagaries of the
dry-fly artist which, if they add nothing to
the gaiety of nations, tend to the promo-
tion of hilarity among his less divertingly
imaginative fellow-craftsmen. In failing
to bestow on him that greatest of all gifts,
the grift of humour, Nature has been
thoughtless of his interests. He takes him-
self and his vocation much too seriously.
The votary of the dry-fly probably derives a
greater pleasure from his art than the wet-fly fisher
finds in his. In promiscuous casting, the angler
has a general expectation of a rise. He is aware
that at any moment his fly may be taken by a fish,
but the precise moment is not within his know-
ledge. Even when his lure is passing over the most
promising of water his hope is far removed from cer-
tainty. He is continuously on the alert, but while he
is interested in every cast he has no particular interest
in any. The dry-fly angler, on the contrary, does not

THE FLY 73

fish at large ; he bides his time, and casts only to rising
fish. He has no vague hope that his fly may fall in the
neighbourhood of an expectant trout ; he knows that it
will. He anticipates a rise, not at any, but at every
cast, and while he is actually engaged in fishing, his
interest is maintained at its liveliest. His pleasure is
intensified by concentration. In wet-fly fishing there
is no excitement until a fish has risen ; in dry-fly fishing
the excitement begins with the cast, rises gradually as
the fly approaches the spot at which the fish may be
expected to appear, and culminates in a paroxysm of
delight when the water breaks, the lure vanishes, and
the line suddenly becomes taut ; or flickers out like a
spent candle as soon as it is obvious that the advances
of the angler have been unfavourably received. I must
not, however, be taken too literally. The wet-fly fisher
has also his opportunities of casting over rising fish,
and his interest is then much keener than when casting
on chance, and in hope rather than in expectation ; but
the circumstances are not quite the same, and the dif-
ference is in favour of the dry-fly angler ; his fly is on
the surface and within sight.

We dearly love a sensation. The spectacle of a
hawk in pursuit of a small bird or of an unhappy hare
coursed by the hounds has for us an intense, if horrible,

74 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

attraction, and, though we dare not confess it, we are
conscious of disappointment, we feel as if we had been
cheated of the most thrilling incident in the drama,
when the hawk fails in his
swoop and the hare success-
fully eludes the hounds.
Even minor tragedies are
not without interest for us ; \\J[ /A|
we eagerly follow the course /

of an insect along the surface of the water, and calcu-
late its chances of escaping the observation of the fish
beneath, and when it succeeds in reaching the shelter
of the bank, we heave a sigh which is not always that
of satisfaction. In the fascination of the chase lies the
secret of the pleasure with which the angler gloats
over the floating fly and anticipates the moment which
decides its fate.

The essential feature of dry-fly fishing is, as the
name implies, the employment of a dry or floating fly.
Whether a submerged fly fished as skilfully and with
the same extraordinary care would not, even on the
English chalk-stream, achieve results as satisfactory, is,
perhaps, not beyond a reasonable doubt. The practised
dry-fly fisher is certain that it would not, and he speaks,
presumably, from experience of both systems. I am,

THE FLY 75

to my sorrow, entirely ignorant of the highly-cultured
fish that swim the Hampshire rivers and, lest I be
accused of harbouring an unjust frame of mind, refrain
from expressing an opinion on the subject. Of our
northern waters, however, I am not without some little
knowledge, and on them I have never seen occasion to
resort to the use of the dry-fly ; I have found the trout,
if inclined to accept anything at all, quite prepared to
take a lure beneath the surface. That, to be sure, does
not seem to be the universal experience. I have read
of an angler who is satisfied that on the occasion he
describes his creel would have been empty but for the
employment of the dry-fly. One is curious to learn
how he knows. Since he does not appear to have
given the trout an opportunity of considering the wet-
fly, one wonders by what process of reasoning he
persuades himself that it would not have proved as
enticing as the other. I have rarely had any difficulty,
especially in the evening, in securing sport by lightly
casting my fly into or above the ring made by a rising
fish and permitting it to sink. When, in these circum-
stances, the wet-fly was taken at all, it was taken so
readily that the dry-fly offered no advantages. My
efforts, it is true, were not always suitably rewarded.
Sometimes it happened that, in their inexplicable

76 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

caprice, the fish stubbornly refused to regard the flies
I offered them, and it is possible that if on these occa-
sions I had retained my flies on the surface, I might
have found them more alluring. I have, however, no
assurance of the fact, and my impression is that the
situation of the lure was not the cause of its rejection.

The dry-fly system seems
the result of an attempt to
place fly-fishing on a scien-
tific basis. The effort is
praiseworthy, but that it is
foredoomed to failure goes
without saying ; the uncertain humour of the trout,
a factor not to be ignored, must ever defy calculation.
The claim made on behalf of dry-fly fishing that it
affords the only means by which, on waters and in
circumstances suited to it, trout can be secured, is not
generally admitted. Be its practical value what it may,
however, it is conceived on a principle which appeals to
one's reason, and has the merit of being more or less
logical. It has been carefully thought out, and it brings
us a step nearer to the angler's aim : a perfect imitation
of nature, not only in the colour of the lure, but in the
manner in which it is presented to the fish. In essaying
the capture of surface-feeding trout, the dry-fly angler

THE FLY 77

seeks to imitate the fly on the water as closely as human
skill and the gross material at his disposal will permit ;
and he endeavours so to manoeuvre his lure that its
movements may conform to those of the insect it simu-
lates. He copies nature in every detail, and provides
the artificial with all the organs — if in abnormal number
— with which the natural fly is furnished. Since the
natural fly, in its final metamorphosis, is possessed of
wings, these form part of the artificial also. If genius
be, indeed, an infinite capacity for taking pains, the
dry-fly fisher may claim its possession. He neglects
nothing likely to further his purpose, and is disappointed
if his counterfeit, as it rides lightly on the stream, is to
be distinguished — at a distance — from the natural flies
which bear it company on its way.

He, however, does not confine himself to the floating
fly ; when it is contra-indicated by circumstances, he
has no hesitation in adopting, with a difference, the
methods of the wet-fly fisher, and angling with a sub-
merged lure. He is aware that when the trout are
" tailing," or " bulging," the dry-fly is passed over them
in vain, and that if he desires to take fish it is necessary
to change his tactics. He discards his winged fly and
arms his cast with a hackle, which he permits to sink.
The fish are feeding on the nymphse of flies rising

78 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

through the water, or on a variety of small organisms
on the bottom or among the weeds, and as these — the
organisms, not the weeds — are without wings, or have
their wings folded away out of sight, the angler, in his
desire for scientific accuracy, omits such organs from
the dressing of the lure. He argues that, since the
objects engaging the attention of the trout are wingless,
the presence of wings on the artificial fly tends to
arouse their suspicion and alarm. But the practice is
not universal. There are some members of the dry-fly
school who do not find the fearful and suspicions trout
dismayed by the apparition of a winged insect in their
midst. The Marquess of Granby confesses to a
preference for the Alder when fishing for tailing trout.
According to custom, he casts down stream and works
his fly upwards against the current. Now, the Alder
is a fly that is never on the water of its own will,
and since the fish can never have seen it in the
situation in which they find its image, deeply sub-
merged, hanging in the stream, or strenuously forcing
its way against it, the sceptic is tempted to en-
quire, " What of the faithful imitation of nature
theory?" The statement — of the poet — that " Nature
best followed best secures the sport," appears, on
the face of it, so obvious that it might almost be

THE FLY 79

called a truism. There is underlying it, however,
a fallacy which seriously vitiates the reasoning ; it
assumes that the trout possesses an acuteness of per-
ception and a depth of cunning which render his
deception all but impossible. The assumption is con-
tradicted by the experience of the dry-fly fisherman
himself. For what do the trout mistake the artificial
Alder? If they are the closely observant, acutely
reasoning fish they are supposed to be, they cannot take
it for the original, for they find it in a situation in which
the presence of the natural fly would be quite pheno
menal, and displaying a vigour and energy of which no
winged insect is capable. Is it inconceivable that they
should accept it merely because it bears a general
resemblance to the objects on which they habitually
subsist ?

If the dry-fly fisher is sometimes, his wet-fly brother
— if one dare suggest the relationship — is habitually,
inconsistent. He takes pains to dress his lures in the
likeness of natural insects, and then, without misgiving,
presents them to the fish under unnatural conditions.
He flatters nature on the one hand and on the other
flouts her. He follows her in this direction, and in that
pursues a course opposed to all her teaching. The fly
he seeks to simulate rides jauntily on the water, the

80

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

plaything of the current and the wind ; its image, except
when the angler is fishing straight up stream, exhibits
an inherent power of locomotion which should challenge
the attention of the least observant
trout, and lead to its immediate re-
jection. It is possible that, as sug-
gested, the sunken fly drifting in-
ertly with the stream, is taken for a
" drowned fly," but the possibility
appears remote, since a body so
light and buoyant rarely fails to
maintain its position on the surface ;
only in turbulent water is it likely
to become submerged, and then but temporarily.
Be that as it may, however, the suggestion does not
help us much ; it affords no explanation whatever of
the success of a lure crossing the stream, or cleaving
its way against it, or actively traversing the still waters
of the loch. The ingenious angler must devise a more
comprehensive theory ; one which embraces all the con-
ditions under which the trout accepts a particular fly.
The statement that in a situation in which it appears
inert and dead he takes it for a fly which has succumbed
to the water, does not explain what it represents to him
when he finds it displaying all the activity of life.

THE FLY 81

The fly, properly so called, is little more than a bonne
bouche to the trout ; it forms but a trifling percentage
of his fare. Were he dependent for his livelihood on
the scraps he gathers from the surface, he would never
have acquired his name for lustiness. He finds his
living not on, but
in, the water, and
the greater portion
of his food consists
of the larvai and the
nymphae of a wide

variety of insects belonging to many species, genera,
and orders ; of beetles and molluscs and small crusta-
ceans ; of minnows and other fish ; of, in short, every-
thing edible — even snakes — and within the compass of
his gullet. If the submerged fly suggests to him any-
thing specific, it is one of the aquatic forms of life on
which he habitually feeds. These, at least, are the
objects he is accustomed to see in the situation occupied
by the angler's artifice, and it is these the wet-fly
fisherman should seek to simulate. If he would be
faithful in his adherence to nature's methods, he should
discard his winged flies and confine himself exclusively
to the use of hackles. The hackle may not provide him
with a "living image" of any of the minute creatures

82 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

which constitute the staple diet of the trout, but it is
a much closer approximation to the truth than he is
likely to find in the lure dressed with superfluous organs
of flight. It may, too, without doing violence to the
angler's reason, or insulting the intelligence of the trout,
be fished at any depth ; near the bottom, towards the
surface, or midway between.

Some time ago, desirous of trying a small experi-
ment, I fished during an entire week with hackles alone.
The experiment was conducted on a loch, and I fished
in the usual way, permitting my flies to rest a moment
in the water, and then drawing them slowly towards
me. They were always an inch or two beneath the
surface. The result more than justified my expectations.
The conditions were unfavourable — or fish were few —
and sport was poor, but I succeeded in taking twice the
number of trout killed by any other angler on the
water. The incident does not, of course, afford conclu-
sive evidence of the superiority of the hackle, but it
proves beyond a doubt that the efficacy of the fly is in
no way impaired by the absence of wings. I certainly
do not ascribe my comparative success, great as it was,
to the use of the lures I employed ; I am satisfied,
indeed, that I should have taken almost, if not quite,
as many fish with those in general use. To the fish

THE FLY 83

that will take the artificial fly at all, the presence or
absence of wings must be a matter of supreme indiffer-
ence. Many things contribute to the filling of the creel
besides the fly ; it cannot be dispensed with, but it is
by no means the most important factor in the fisher-
man's results. I have fished within a few yards of a
friend who, although his flies were exactly the same
as my own, took trout after trout, while I scarcely
obtained a rise.

Stewart gave to the hackle, as a means of capturing
trout, a higher rank than that accorded to the winged
fly, and Mr. E. M. Tod, in Wet-Fly Fishing, says of
it that it is proverbially valuable for the fishing of
" waters." Why it should prove a more profitable lure
on a " water " than on a " river," or a " burn," Mr. Tod
does not inform us, and he has probably an excellent
reason for his reticence. The insect or the spider
which the hackle may be supposed to represent is surely
not confined to streams of a particular size, and since
the distinctive feature of a " water " is not the posses-
sion of a characteristic fauna, we can hardly believe
that the trout it holds have developed a peculiar palate.

The angler is the least logical of men. He has
never heard of Whately, and opinions aired on one
page, we find him flatly contradicting on the next.

84 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

One is tempted to suspect him of repeating phrases,
not because his reason has consented to the thought
expressed in them, but because, having been so fre-
quently employed by others, they are not to be omitted
with propriety. I have just been reading an invaluable
little text-book for the use of students of the gentle
art, the author of which, after assuring us that we
must copy nature in the most minute detail, affirms,
with curious inconsistency, that while the winged fly is
" decidedly the closer imitation of the natural insect,"
the hackle is "out and out the most (sic) deadly."

There may be, somewhere, trout so preternaturally
sharp that they refuse an artificial fly, because in some
trivial detail of colour it differs slightly from its proto-
type, but it has never been my privilege to meet with
them. The fish, in the pursuit of which I have spent
my leisure, were much less exacting ; they did not
demand a lure dressed, even approximately, in the
likeness of " the fly on the water or due to be there ; "
so indiscriminating were they and so simple, that they
willingly accepted any lure that did not too obviously
betray its artificiality. And their confidence was easily
secured ; they succumbed as readily to the rude, imper-
fect efforts of my own unskilful fingers as to the most

THE FLY

85

cunningly constructed triumphs of the tier's art. It
has not been my experience that imitation of a specific
object is essential to success ; it seems to me sufficient
that the artificial fly should be so like a thing of life
that the trout are deceived into believing- it to be one.

CHAPTER III

STREAM-FISHING

the infinite variety of the stream
lies much of its charm for the
angler. He finds in its alterna-
tion of deep, still pool and noisy,
rippling shallow, of whirling eddy
and bright, sparkling run, a di-
versity of water which adds
greatly to his interest in the
sport. He does not throw his
fiies promiscuously on chance.
While he neglects no portion of
the water in which fish may lie,
he gives careful and minute attention to the places
where, his knowledge of their habits tells him, they are
most likely to be found. He adapts his methods to
constantly changing conditions. The varying circum-
stances in which his casts are made involve a variation
in his style of casting and afford him frequent oppor-
tunities for the display of special skill. Now cast with

STREAM-FISHING 87

artfully contrived up-stream curve on the line, his fly
circles with the eddy beneath the opposite bank ; now
it falls, light as a feather, behind the great stone where
the stream, parted for a moment, comes together again ;
now it is thrown deftly to the very spot desired, under
the overhanging bushes in whose shadow the expectant
trout lie in wait for the flies which fall from above. On
the changeful stream the angler is ever encountering
something new ; some new problem to be solved, some
new difficulty to be overcome. His ingenuity and fer-
tility of resource are in frequent request, and, should
they prove equal to the demands made on them, he is
amply rewarded : he has not only the joy of taking fish;
he has the pleasing satisfaction derived from the con-
sciousness of knowledge intelligently applied and of
skill exercised successfully.

The angler should fish up stream. The advantages
of casting in that direction are obvious, and they have
been impressed on us with such frequent iteration, that
it is hard to believe in the continued existence of an
adherent of the earlier method. The conversion of the
angler, especially the angler south of the Tweed, seems
to have been slow, but it must be now complete ;
it is impossible that he can retain a vestige of his
ancient faith. The old order passed with Captain St.

88 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

John Dick, the last, so far as I know, to make a stand
in its defence. If there still remain any who ignore the
doctrines first clearly enunciated by Stewart — though
not first practised by him — it is not from conviction,
but from indolence. They are probably well aware of
the advantages of up-stream fishing, but they know
also that it makes large demands on the angler's
energies and they prefer a small basket easily gained
to a full one earned by strenuous labour. The modern
down-stream fisher is no enthusiast ; he is content with
a moderate success ; while willing enough to capture
fish, he is unwilling to spend himself in their pursuit.
Up-stream fishing, it is also said, requires a more ac-
curate and extensive acquaintance with the habits of
the trout than the down-stream angler need possess.
But they who say so do not condescend to tell us
why. To one not in the secret it seems that whether
the angler fish in one direction or the other he should,
if he desires to take fish, know where to look for
them.

It is enough to establish the superiority of up-stream
fishing in clear water that, since the trout habitually lie
with their head towards the source and are extremely
quick of sight, it is impossible to approach them from
above unseen. They are the most timid of fish and so

'V"c

STREAM-FISHING 89

ready to flee at the first glimpse of a figure on the bank
that, except in broken or discoloured water, the down-
stream fisher is wasteful of energy ; they have seen
him and fled while he was still a score of yards away.

Even when seeking to reach them from below, the
anofler is constrained to exercise the ofreatest caution.
He dare not walk boldly up on them, trusting that the
disposition of their heads will prevent them from de-
tecting his approach. If he does he will find his
confidence betrayed, and all he will see of them is
their shadowy forms as they glide
swiftly away out of sight. He
cannot entirely efface himself, but
he must carefully avoid all unne-
cessary exposure of his offensive
person. He should learn from
the dry-fly fisher, who probably owes his success as
much to the skill with which he stalks his quarry as to
the use of the lure he affects. In fishing from a high
bank especially the angler should take advantage of
every bit of cover likely to aid him in concealing his
presence. Where no cover affords him a sufficient
screen he should, regardless of comfort, creep and crawl
towards the water; even in the attitude of the serpent,
should that be necessary to his perfect obscuration.

90 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Possibly he may think the game not worth the candle.
That is, of course, his own concern, but he is a luke-
warm angler if he can contemplate with placid mind
the wave created by a great trout speeding in fear of
him towards the sanctuary of the depths.

Raised banks should, if possible, be shunned. When
circumstances permit, the angler should fish from the
level of the stream or, still better, from the bed of the
stream itself; he should wade. While in the water he
is an inconspicuous feature of the landscape, and no-
where else is he so likely to escape the observation
of the keen-eyed trout. Wading, too, gives him com-
mand of a greater extent of water and enables him to
secure all the advantages of a short line.

In wading an unknown water the angler should
proceed with the utmost care. Especially in fishing
down is it imperative that his attention should not be
wholly devoted to the trout ; his situation claims a part
in it. It is so easy to move forward with the stream
that, in his preoccupation, he may wander on uncon-
scious of the risk he runs until suddenly startled to an
unpleasant sense of danger. He will be happy — com-
paratively, at least — if he recognises the peril while
there is yet time to avert it, but he may have a few
bad moments before he regains the bank and feels free

STREAM-FISHING 91

to breathe asfain. His thouorhts will be far from cheer-
ful as, a yawning gulf below him, he braces himself
against the current and, with the help of his landing-
net or the butt of his rod, feels his way foot by foot
towards a place of safety. Those who have once oc-
cupied the alarming position are unlikely ever to forget
the trepidation in which they contemplated the prospect
before them.

When, in down-stream fishing, the angler hooks a
fish of any size, he is compelled to get below it and
play it with the assistance of the stream, thus not only
sacrificinor time and adding- to the chances of the trout's
escape, but needlessly disturbing the water on which he
has yet to cast a fly. How much simpler and more
favourable his position if he is already below his quarry
when it takes the lure.

But how far the disturbance of the water affects the
interests of the angler is uncertain. It is likely enough
that a trout, as he darts hither and thither in his frenzied
efforts to regain his freedom, raises a commotion among
the others in his neighbourhood ; that his excitement is
"catching" need not occasion us surprise. It is, how-
ever, the teaching of experience that the contagion is
frequently escaped. It is not uncommon to secure a
second fish while the first is still in play, and we know

92 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

that the flies on the otter are seized by trout after trout,
though those already hooked are plunging and struggling
on the line. The trout is incapable of profiting by the
misfortunes of his fellows ; is, indeed, incapable of
realizing that they are in misfortune. His emotions at
sight of others in distress are vague, formless, indefinite.
They are not based on intelligent appreciation of the
situation ; they are purely reflex. His fear, if he has
any, is not the fear of a known peril ; it is without a
recognised cause ; it is the same unreasoning panic
which sometimes seizes man himself and sends him
fleeing in terror from a danger he would find it impos-
sible to name. Whatever its source, however, the
excitement of the trout will probably divert him from
thoughts of food, and the angler is wise to preserve the
tranquillity of the water in front of him.

It is generally believed that when the angler is
fishing up-stream he is more likely to hook the trout
that rise to him than when fishing in the opposite
direction. The belief is based on the assumption that
the up-stream angler strikes towards the trout, while the
down-stream angler strikes away from it. If it be true.,
as is commonly supposed, that when the rise to the
submerged fly is seen, the trout has already secured the
fly or missed it and has turned to go down again, the

STREAM-FISHING 93

assumption seems scarcely justified. Since in up-stream
fishing the trout approaches the fly fi-om below — that is,
from down stream — or from the side, and having taken it
or failed to take it, returns whence he came, it is as likely
as not that when the angler strikes, the head of the fish
is towards him. He really knows nothing of the direc-
tion in which it is disposed and therefore cannot tell
how, as regards it, the strike takes effect. So far as it
concerns the down-stream fisher, the assumption prob-
ably contains an element of reason. In the circum-
stances in which the fly is presented to him, the fish
makes his presence felt before he turns in his descent,
and as he seizes the lure from behind, it must occasion-
ally be snatched away from him ere it is well within his
lips. As, however, the angler has no slack line to re-
cover and the act of striking is immediately effective,
he possibly secures an average number of the fish he
raises. But it is all the merest conjecture. We are
without data on which to base a reasonable judgment.
I am not aware that any angler has compiled statistics
affording a comparison between the rival systems. My
own experience, so far as, in the absence of records, it
may be relied on, is that the proportion of fish missed
to those hooked is no greater in down-stream fishing
than in fishing up.

94 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

According to Stewart, one
great advantage of up-stream
fishing is, "that by it the angler
can much better adapt the mo-
tions of his flies to those of
the natural insects." Stewart's
knowledge of Entomology does
not seem to have been very
profound — he writes, for ex-
ample, of the Phryganea or
Stone Fly of naturalists — and with all his practical
experience of angling, he apparently knew but little of
the nature of the fare on which the trout subsists.
And what knowledge he did possess does not seem to
have had much influence on his opinions. Of the
wealth and variety of insect life beneath the surface he
may have had some conception, but all his theories of
fly-fishing appear to have had their origin in the belief
that the flies which provide the trout with his surface
food reach the water from without. The moment at
which the artificial fly alights is, he frequently repeats,
the most deadly of the cast ; or, as it is put by a disciple
whose little book sparkles with similar gems of English,
" The alighting of the fly is the most deadly of the
cast." Although his lack of information did not impair

STREAM-FISHING 95

his success as a practical angler it sometimes led him
to erroneous conclusions.

"For the angler," he writes, "to attempt by any
motion of his hand to give to his flies a living appear-
ance is mere absurdity." "We must," he elsewhere
contends, " suppose that the fish takes the artificial fly
for a dead one or one that has fairly got into the stream
and has lost all power of resistance. A feeble motion
of the wings is the only attempt which a fly in such a
case could make. What, then, must be the astonish-
ment of the trout when they see a tiny insect which
they are accustomed to seize
as it is carried towards them,
crossing the stream with the
strength and agility of the
otter?" He admits that the
angler drawing his flies up
and across stream does take

fish, and "this," he maintains, "is the strongest evi-
dence that the trout are not the profound philosophers
the notions of some would have us suppose." No pro-
found philosopher, he reasons, would take, for a real
fly, the artificial fly battling successfully against the
stream ; but the trout takes it for a real fly ; therefore
the trout is no profound philosopher. We may accept

96 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

his conclusion while denying the soundness of his minor
premise. We are not, as he declares, compelled to
suppose that the trout takes the artificial for a real fly ;
he may take it for a beetle, for a corixa, for a small
crustacean, for one of the many things
inhabiting the water ; he may, as has
already been suggested, take it merely
because it seems a thing of life and
therefore edible. Even admitting the
truth of Stewart's assumption — an
assumption shared by so many of us —
that the artifice is taken for a fly, does the trout per-
ceive a dismaying breach of nature's order in the
spectacle it presents as it lightly and easily surmounts
a stream against which he himself maintains his posi-
tion with difficulty? I do not think so. He may or
may not take the lure. If he does not, it is because
he sees that it is not a natural object, or because, while
unsuspectingly assuming its reality, it is not to his taste
or he has no desire for food. It is not because he
has carefully pondered the phenomenon — he has
never heard the word and knows nothing of the thing
it signifies — and arrived at the reasoned conclusion
that, since the object of his scrutiny is accomplishing a
feat beyond the capacity of any earthly insect, it must

STREAM-FISHING 97

be something else. His knowledge is direct; is not
based on observation and reflection. If his eye does
not inform him, his reason can not. The trout is not
the sharp, observant, acutely reasoning fish he is popu-
larly supposed to be. He does not habitually discuss
with himself the nature of the lure and refuse it when,
after a long and complex process of thought, he has
decided what it is not ; what it is must remain for ever
beyond his ken.

Yet, if we may believe what is written of him, he
possesses an intellect similar to and rivalling that of
man himself A recent writer on angling tells us that,
with a particular fly, he on one occasion succeeded in
taking trout that had for long withstood the seductions
of all other lures, and in explanation of his success he
maintains that though the fly — a Sand Fly — was not in
season, the fish knew that it was due and were awaiting
it. He demands too much of our credulity. The trout
may welcome a fly when it arrives, but that they are
aware of the date on which it may be expected to
appear, and look forward with pleasure to its coming,
is beyond belief.

It is equally difficult to accept the assertion we owe
to another writer, that the trout knows when he is being
fished for. If he is so phenomenally astute as to be

98 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

cognizant of the intentions of the figure on the bank,
why does he flee from it in panic to his lair among the
roots of the ancient alder, or under the great stone in
the centre of the stream ? Why does he not calmly

maintain his position
and, with tongue in
cheek, smile at the
angler's futile efforts
to entice him ? Since
he knows that he is
being fished for, it is surprising that he does not know
how to avoid being caught, except by running away.
To a fish of his gifts it should be obvious that there is
no cause for alarm ; while he refrains from interfering
with the fly which he knows to be artificial, and part
of the engine designed for his undoing, the angler is
powerless to harm him. It is impossible that the
writer referred to can realize all that his words imply.

The intelligence of the trout is amazing ; chiefly,
perhaps, by reason of its curious inequalities. He is so
sharp that he detects the most trifling discrepancy be-
tween the colour scheme of the angler's lure and that of
the insect it represents, and so dull that he perceives
nothing unusual in that obtrusive and unnatural feature
of the fly — the hook ; so quickly observant that he

STREAM-FISHING 99

rejects a fly because its legs, otherwise of the approved
tone of blue, are without amber extremities, and so ob-
tuse that he fails to see that these same legs, which
should be but six in number, are as the sand on the
sea-shore for multitude, and in their anatomy convey
no suggestion of the real. He is a strange blend of
stupidity and genius. Happily, he does not deserve
his reputation ; if he did, man's ingenuity would be
applied in vain to the discovery of a means
of circumventing him. In reality, his mind
is but poorly furnished, and he seems to
learn little from experience. Impressions
are quickly effaced from his memory, and
incidents forgotten as soon as past. In-
stances of his dulness of apprehension might
be quoted by the score. The fact is, that
we read ourselves into the trout and ascribe to him
thouorhts and motives similar to our own. We forgret
that he is but a fish and that his intelligence is com-
mensurate with the organisation of his brain.

But if he is not the intellectual prodigy of the
angler's imagination he is quick-eyed, shy, fearful and
nervous, and his capture is not to be carelessly or
thoughtlessly essayed. Now and then, however, we
have cause to wonder if in the thought expended on the

100 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

devices by which we endeavour to outwit him, there is
not involved much misdirected energy. Fishing, one
day, from the banks of a little brook, I was overtaken
by another fisherman who had come up the water be-
hind me. As anglers do, we fell into conversation, and
on comparing notes, I found that his basket held more
and larger fish than mine. I had been employing all
the art I knew, fishing fine and far — but not too far —
off and with flies so small and beautifully made that
even the craftiest of trout might have been excused for
confiding in the fraud, and curious to learn the secret
of his greater success, I asked permission to inspect his
tackle. The request was willingly complied with, and,
to the utter confusion of all my notions of the fitness of
things angling, I was shown a cast consisting of a few
feet of the coarsest gut, tied at short intervals in great,
clumsy knots — it resembled a rosary rather than any-
thing else — and terminating in a fly (No. 8 or 9, new
scale) composed of a tuft of human hair and the ex-
tremity of a blade of grass roughly bound to the hook
with a piece of white cotton thread. The monstrosity
was made in the image of nothing on earth or, within
my knowledge, elsewhere, and for what it had been
taken was beyond the hazard of a guess. That it had
been taken at all gave me food for thought.

STREAM-FISHING 101

The angler is not always free to choose the direction
in which he will fish ; it is sometimes d'erei-'rfi^n^ii for.
him by the wind. When that is adver^e.'.tjCKup^sti'dsitfii
fishing, he must perforce fish down. Occasionally he
may be able to effect a compromise and fish up and
across, but when the wind blows violently down stream
he must bow to the conditions it imposes — or refrain
from fishing, If the water pursue a winding course he
will probably find an occasional stretch on which the
wind is favourable to up-stream fishing, and in that case
it has been suggested that he should confine himself
"to such bends or reaches which [sic) are negotiable."
He will be unwise if he does, unless, which is unlikely,
these suffice to keep him in occupation during the entire
day. By all means let him fish up, where the wind is
accommodating enough to permit him, but he will be
foolish to neglect the intervening water and sacrifice his
sport to an idea. Even when he is given a choice, there
are conditions under which he may, without hesitation,
fish down ; conditions, indeed, under which a too rigid
adherence to what has, with ridiculous inaptitude, been
called good /orm, will render unavailing his purpose on
the stream. When the water is high and discoloured,
there is no reason in the world why he should exhaust
himself by labouring against it. If, even in such cir-

102 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

cumstances. He should elect to fish up stream he will, as,
•in orre of the most delightful of all books on angling,
'; Sir Edward Gray assures him, have the satisfaction of
feeling that he has chosen the more difficult part — and
that is, possibly, the only satisfaction he will have.
There is no particular virtue in making a martyr of
one's self by toiling arduously along a rough and stony
path when close by and leading to the same goal there
runs another, smooth and pleasant to the feet.

Since it prevents the trout from detecting the pre-
sence of the angler, and enables him to approach them
as closely as he desires, the opacity of the stream re-
moves the most important of the reasons in favour of
fishing up. Curiously enough, too, Stewart's final
objection to fishing down seems to lose its validity when
the water is discoloured and is running high. Why, is
not apparent. If the objection has any weight at all,
it is surely peculiarly weighty in the very circumstances
in which we are advised that we may safely disregard
it. If a fly successfully opposing a low, slow-gliding
stream is to the trout an object of alarm, how terrifying
should it prove when he sees it cleaving its way against
a stream increased in volume and flowing with aug-
mented velocity and force.

After dark, too, the angler may, without a qualm,

STREAM-FISHING 103

cast down stream and drag his flies upward against the
current. By night the trout sees nothing surprising in
a spectacle that by day inevitably rouses his lightly
sleeping fears ; or is it that between sunset and dawn
a fly achieves, without effort, a feat of which, during
the remaining hours of the twenty-four, it is altogether
incapable ?

It is also permissible to fish down rough, broken,
quickly running water ; usually, indeed, it is impossible
to fish such water in any other way.

Many years ago I was in the habit of fishing a little
stream to the creation of which nature had contributed
but small assistance. It owes its being to the hands
of man. Its mission is strictly utilitarian, and it seems
to know it. There is an air of business about it,
a hint of an object in front, it is pressing to attain.
It hurries swirling and eddying along as if conscious
that life is earnest and time too precious to be thrown
away. For it, is no loitering by the way to toy with
sweet forget-me-nots or play among the cresses ; it is
informed by a steady purpose from which nothing di-
verts it. It neither chatters over stony ways nor
babbles on the pebbles ; it pursues a reserved and
silent course. It is no frivolous, irresponsible brook
laughing and leaping without a care, without a thought

104 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

of what lies before it, onwards to the sea. Its mood is
grave and serious, as befits its place in the service of
man. It is not an object of much beauty, but, though
aesthetic considerations did not influence those who
shaped its course, it sweeps in graceful curves around
the hill, and even its obtrusive artificiality cannot rob it
entirely of the charm inherent in running water.

I have spent many hours on its banks, though to
little profit. It holds but few trout, since, because of
its uniformly rapid flow, there are few places in which
they can find rest. For the same reason, it is impos-
sible to fish it up ; the angler's flies are swept past him
in a heap almost as soon as they have touched the
water. There is no angler capable of casting with the
frequency its velocity exacts. It is not merely that the
muscular energy involved soon becomes exhausting, but
that cast must follow cast in such quick succession that
our limited capacity is quite unequal to the task. Only
by the adoption of the ingenious method devised by the

author of The W / T 1 is it possible to make

a basket on it. It seems to be the playful custom of
the writer of that amazing book to count among his
captures the fish he fails to catch. "One day in 1898,"
he writes, "we got thirteen trout, of which six were foul-
hooked and many others pricked, light-hooked, and lost."

IN SPATE.

STREAM-FISHING 105

When the angler is compelled to fish down stream
he should cast obliquely across the water, and permit
the current to carry his flies round to the side on which
he is placed. His lures will not be perfectly successful
imitations of insects caught in the stream and deprived
of all power of voluntary motion, but they will probably
prove just as alluring as if they were. When he has
discovered what it is, he may find worthy of his con-
sideration the plan so artfully concealed in the following
cryptic words: — "Good fishing may be had by standing
well back from the river verofe or well back from the
lip of a steep bank and casting opposite your feet, with
three flies, and let them float down close under your
own bank, casting rapidly and rarely allowing your
flies to get below your stand-point."

Should the angler who has conscientious objections
to dragging his fly against the current, or shrinks from
the awful charge of failing to observe good form, desire
to fish a sharp run immediately below him, he must
cast short and, dropping the point of his rod, confide
his line entirely to the water. If he acts with skill and
is careful that the speed at, and the direction in, which
his lure is travelling correspond exactly to those of a
natural fly similarly situated, he need not fear that the
suspicious trout will detect its unreality.

106 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Trout eagerly awaiting the descent of food are often
to be seen in numbers poised in the water at the pool-
foot. In the absence of wind, however, the unaccom-
plished angler need not seek them there ; since it re-
quires skilful fishing to induce a rise in water smooth
of surface, the artist alone is likely to succeed. The
tyro should confine himself to broken water ; water
which will aid him in dissembling the fictitious nature of
his lure, and in which his lack of science may possibly
elude the observation of the trout. That, he will meet
with towards the upper end of the pool. He should,
from choice, fish from the shallow side of the stream,
and before directing his attention to the farther bank
may, with advantage, make a tentative, up-stream cast
or two near that he occupies. In casting across the
stream he should throw his fly obliquely upwards, the
angle at which his first cast is made depending, of
course, on the breadth of the pool. When the current
has borne his flies a short distance down stream, he
must recover his line and cast again a few feet higher
up. In a series of casts he should describe the arc of a
circle, beginning at the far bank and ending near that
on which he is standing ; but I am not prepared to say
that his creel will be appreciably lighter should he re-
verse the process and, starting from the near bank,

STREAM-FISHING 107

finish in the neighbourhood of that opposite. Unless
he is raisino^ and missinor fish he need not cast twice in
the same place ; if the trout are inclined for food they
will seize his flies at once, and if they are not, they
will observe their passing unconcernedly. Having ex-
hausted the water within his reach, he will take a step
forward and go through the process anew. Casting
methodically, he should move slowly up the pool ex-
hibiting his flies, so far as he can, to every fish within it.
While he may, perhaps, anticipate most sport close to
the banks, he must not neglect the main current, and,
as on the loch, he should give careful attention to the
outer edge of the shallows.

Streams should be dealt with in a similar manner.
In fishing a swift run, however, the angler is compelled
to cast with greater frequency than on the relatively
slow-flowing water of the pool, and as the rapid descent
of his flies may prevent their presence from being in-
stantly detected he may, until satisfied of their futility,
repeat his efforts to attract the notice of his quarry.
When casting towards the opposite bank, he may oc-
casionally have some difficulty in retaining his flies on
the spot he desires to search ; the intervening stream,
pulling on the line, tends to drag them quickly away.
But the exercise of a little ingenuity will generally

108 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

enable him to achieve his aim. By holding his rod
well up, he may so contrive his cast that the gut alone
falls on the water — beyond the obstacle to his success —
or he may cast with an up-stream curve on the line ;
since the line communicates no movement to the flies
until the curve has been straightened out by the action
of the current, he may find it possible to keep them
in position as long as he considers necessary. These,
at least, are the devices we are recommended to adopt,
and their efficacy is not to be denied, but their success-
ful execution implies a perfection in the art of casting
which one of us is far from havinor reached. Not
every angler profits by the opportunities for learning
with which the practice of his art provides him, and to
many the easiest way of dealing with a difficulty is to
pass it by.

The angler should fish with care every spot in which
the trout are likely to seek harbour; and these spots, if
he has any faculty of observation, his experience will soon
enable him to recognise. In the shadow of every over-
hanging bush, beneath every hollow bank — especially a
bank towards which the current sets — under every stone
large enough to afford concealment, lurk trout waiting
expectantly on the bounty of the stream. Though, like
the poet, the angler may be born, he requires much

STREAM-FISHING 109

making, and the instinctive knowledge with which he
is equipped at birth does not include a knowledge of the
habits of the trout ; that, he acquires in later life by
earnest study of the object of his quest. He must not,
therefore, approach the stream under the erroneous im-
pression that nature has furnished him with an innate
fount of information which raises him above the neces-
sity for thought and renders superfluous the exercise
of reason. The truths on familiarity with which he
builds his hope of success are not of the variety we
call self-evident and which we apprehend by immediate
perception. They are not to be known by intuition.

When fishing a stretch of water flowing sluggishly
over a bottom bare of cover, the angler should confine
his attention to the neighbourhood of the banks. Ex-
cept in the evening, or when the trout are obviously
abroad in search of food, the centre of the stream will
prove quite unproductive. Even when its surface is
fretted by the wind he may, without loss, pass it untried.

At the beginning of the season the trout are still in
occupation of the pools. They do not emerge from
their retirement until the restoration of the vigour
sacrificed to the maintenance of the race, or lost during
the enforced abstinence of winter enables them to with-
stand the streams. Before the end of April, however,

110 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

they have acquired energy enough to maintain their
position in all but the strongest of currents and may be
found in numbers even where the water, rushing im-
petuously over and among the boulders, threatens to
sweep them away.

The water is in good condition for fly-fishing when
there has been just sufficient rain to produce a slight
addition to its volume and diminish its crystalline trans-
parency or when, after a flood, it is beginning to subside
and is becoming clear again. Which of these conditions
is the better, I do not know, but I am disposed to give
my preference to the former ; the rising water stimulates
the appetite of the fish and excites in them the expecta-
tion of the means of gratifying it, while a spate leaves
them full to repletion and disinclined to feed until, in
the course of time, they have recovered from the sur-
feit. The amber-colour so frequently insisted on does
not seem to me a necessary factor in the angler's cal-
culations. Whether a stream assumes that colour or
not surely depends on the geology of the bed it occu-
pies, or of the country through which it flows. The
trout are undisturbed by a moderate increase in the size
of the stream, but a flood drives them from their usual
haunts, and they are then to be sought, with but partial
success, in quiet back-waters and by the shallow margins

STREAM-FISHING

111

of the pools — in any place, in fact, to which they can
withdraw from the overwhelming rush of water.

While stream-fishing may be pursued with profit
during April, the angler's basket will be heavier in May
than in any other month of the season. With the com-
ing of June the trout develop a fancy for the worm,
and thereafter, until August, they regard the fly with
unconcern ; an unconcern, however, which they display
only by day, since after sundown, and during the hours
of darkness, they still rise to the lure with avidity.
August brings an improvement in the prospects of the
fly-fisher, and September is yet more friendly to him,
but as by that time the fish are getting out of condition
their capture yields him little satisfaction.

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CHAPTER IV

LOCH-FISHING

IVES there an angler who, when
he may profitably fish the
stream, voluntarily seeks the
loch? It is scarcely credible.
Not that loch-fishing is an evil;
it is only a lesser good. The
sacrifice of the greater good,
the delight of wandering rod
in hand by the river, is part of
the penalty we pay for man's
first disobedience ; by the sweat of our brow we still
laboriously earn our bread. Stream-fishing is the
privilege of the leisured; in its dependence on the
caprice of the weather, it is not for him who only at
long intervals enjoys a transient liberty.

Prolonofed drought, of which our distressful climate
seldom gives us reason to complain, is disastrous to the
prospects of the stream-fisher. While it prevails he is

LOCH-FISHING 113

deprived of occupation ; of occupation, at least, from
which he gains the smallest profit. The sun glows
pitilessly in a brazen sky, and day by day the stream
dwindles and shrinks until it flows, a mere thread,
trickling languidly through a parched and thirsty waste
of sand and shingle. Its dry and empty channel runs
like an unsightly scar across the face of nature. The
hapless angler loiters listlessly on its arid banks, and
casts a futile fly into the fast disappearing water. The
trout, hurriedly withdrawn to cover, show no interest
in his efforts, and his pursuit yields him no pleasure.
He longs impatiently for a change, but seeks in vain
the promise of a break in the monotonously brilliant
sunshine. Hourly he scans the horizon for a sign
of rain, but no sign is given him ; not a cloud even the
size of a man's hand rewards his gaze. He retires at
night praying that in the morning his ears may be
gladdened by the sound of the rain-drops pattering on
the pane, but he awakes to a day as bright and serene
as the days that have gone before it. As the end of
his holiday approaches, bringing with it no change in
the aspect of the sky, hope's gradually paling fires are
finally reduced to ashes. He is the sport of Fate. On
the last evening of his stay the wind veers to the south
and dark clouds, charged with rain, obscure the heavens,

114

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

but the sight fails to stimulate his interest ; it comes too
late. He knows that the threatening rain will be slow
to fall, and that long before it reaches earth he will be
back at his desk, or behind his counter, or where else

his business takes him, his
scanty holiday unprofitably
spent, and his tackle laid
carefully away until the re-
turn of another year gives
him an opportunity of bring-
ing it out again and, he
hopes, of effacing the mem-
ory of his disappointment.
The angler has no assurance of success on the loch,
but he is less likely to leave it entirely disappointed.
It is certain to yield him some degree of satisfaction.
His basket may not be always full, but it will seldom be
quite empty. The conditions of his sport are less com-
plex ; neither the height nor the colour of the water
need concern him much, and with rain he will cheer-
fully dispense. Bright sunshine he will probably find
conducive to his pleasure, but if he is favoured with
sufficient wind to fret the surface of the water, he can
demand nothing further of the weather. Wind, how-
ever, is the one thing essential to his success ; without

LOCH-FISHING 115

it, except during the evening rise, his labour is labour
in vain. Since, fortunately, it is never long absent
from our Scottish lochs, he is almost certain to enjoy
the benefit of its presence at some period of the
day.

The angler on the loch will find the experience
acquired on the stream of but little service to him.
His skill in casting will certainly stand him in good
stead, although he may never be called on for an
exhibition of great dexterity, but his knowledge of the
habits of the trout will avail him none at all. There is
little in the loch, as in the stream, to indicate the chosen
haunts of the fish. The blank, expressionless expanse
of water betrays no secrets ; like a mask it conceals all
that lies beneath it, and although he may not cast
without hope, there is no cast — except when he essays
the capture of a fish he has seen rise — in which his
interest is particularly engaged. All are made in pre-
cisely similar circumstances and each is almost an exact
repetition of the others. They are without individuality.
There is a dull monotony in loch-fishing which seriously
lowers its value as a source of pleasure to the angler.
It lacks the variety, the frequent change, to which
stream-fishing owes its charm. If there be a form of
angling to which the term "chuck and chance it" may,

116 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

with any show of justice, be applied, it is that pursued
upon the loch.

But though to the loch-fisher it seems a matter of
indifference where he casts, he need not cast carelessly.
Since he may expect a trout anywhere he should be
prepared to find one everywhere. He should cast
methodically, covering every inch of water in front of
him, and in his very ignorance of the position of the
fish, should be even more alert than on the stream. As
every rise is in the nature of a surprise to him, his eye
should be continuously on his flies, and his thoughts
where his eye is. His attention should never be allowed
to stray. If he would miss the opportunity of the day,
he has but to divert his mind for a moment from the
occupation in which he is engaged ; when it has returned
to the object from which it should never have been
absent, he will find that he has accomplished his desire.
A great swirl in the water will advise him of the pre-
sence of a fish which, he will have the satisfaction of
feeling, might have been his but for his thoughtlessness.
The trout seem to possess some occult means of know-
ing when the angler's wits are wool-gathering, and the
frequency with which they seize the occasion suggests
some interesting speculations. I know of no better
method of inducing a dour and obstinate fish to rise

LOCH-FISHING

117

than to turn one's back on the flies and assume an air
of unconcern.

The loch may be fished from the bank or from a
boat. When fishing from a boat, the angler is best
alone. The statement is made in no spirit of churlish-
ness, but in the interest of the angler himself ; of the
angler whose object in fishing is to catch fish and who
estimates his pleasure not, indeed, by the weight of his
creel, but by the frequency with which he is given an
opportunity of playing a trout. It may be disregarded
by the dilettante, whose purpose on the water is the
enjoyment of an agreeable outing to which the quest of
the trout is merely incidental. He without sacrifice,
with, rather, increase of his happiness, may surround
himself with a company limited in numbers only by the
capacity of the boat. The enthusiastic angler is no
curmudgeon ; after dinner, in the smoking-room, when
the tension is relaxed, there is no one more sociable,

but the day he prefers, like
that lone fisher the heron,
to spend in solitude. The
fellowship of his boatman
and an occasional oppor-
tunity of shouting, across
the wave, a greeting to a

118 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

passing friend afford him social intercourse enough.
When trout are apathetic and his unrequited industry
begins to pall, the presence of a congenial companion
may help to dissipate his gloom, but when sport is good
he is independent of other entertainment.

Circumstances sometimes compel the angler to share
a boat with another, but the arrangement is one that it
is always wise to avoid. Little can be said in its favour,
and it has many disadvantages. It constrains the angler
to regulate his actions by those of his companion, and,
however mild in temper, he cannot help feeling and in-
wardly resenting the restraint it imposes on his liberty.
And it necessitates drifting broadside to the wind, a
disposition of the boat most unfavourable to success,
since it prevents the angler from exhausting the pos-
sibilities of the water on which he is fishing. While
he is engaged with a fish, the boat pursues her course
to leeward, probably passing over many more quite
prepared to accept the fly were it placed within the
circle of their vision.

It is true that while one angler is manoeuvring a
trout towards the net, the other is not necessarily de-
barred from fishing ; circumstances may, possibly, per-
mit him to continue casting, but he casts with divided
interests, one eye on his companion's movements, the

LOCH-FISHING 119

other on his own flies. Too often, however, he is re-
duced to enforced idleness, and he frets and fumes at,
to his impatience, the needless prolongation of the
struggle progressing by his side. Meanwhile, the
angler in conflict with the trout, feeling that he is
spoiling the pleasure of his comrade, attempts, pre-
maturely, to terminate the strife, and in his haste
precipitates a catastrophe. The situation is more or
less unpleasant for both.

It is almost impossible that two anglers can occupy
the same boat without occasionally interfering with
each other's movements, and it is in the very nature of
things that they should impair each other's success.
The number of fish taken by two anglers never greatly
exceeds that taken by one in sole possession of the
boat. If each is thoughtful of the other and both are
adepts in the art of casting they may succeed in avert-
ing trouble, but should one of them in a moment of
forgetfulness raise his rod while that of his friend is
still up, unpleasantness is certain to ensue. Their lines
encounter in the air and there results a tangle, the un-
ravelling of which necessitates the exercise of all the
ingenuity and patience they possess. With the usual
perversity of things inanimate, the mischance occurs at
the most inopportune moment of the day ; just as the

120 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

trout have begun to rise and the prospects of sport to
brighten. Its effects are disastrous. The fish are
leaping all around in seeming derision of the plight of
the unhappy anglers, but the maze is intricate and hard
to follow, and tempers strained to breaking threaten to
give way entirely at the irritating delay. The wisdom
of the ancient adage in which we are advised to hasten
slowly is verified in the experience of the fishermen ; in
their impatience their fingers refuse obedience to their
wills, and much valuable time slips quickly away into
the past before the mischief is repaired. It is rectified
at last, however, but just too late ; the fish have dis-
appeared and the water is again empty and still. The
anglers have lost an opportunity unlikely to recur,
and they resume their occupation in gloomy silence.
The pleasure has all gone out of their sport. They
continue to cast, but half-heartedly, without interest ;
one painfully conscious of offence but aggrieved at the
dumbly accusing countenance of his companion ; the
other righteously indignant, suppressing with difficulty
a wrath he would fain pour out in floods of lurid
language. The day, which arose in hope and continued
in joy, descends in disappointment and despair. The
ties of a life-long friendship have been rent asunder on
provocation much less grave.

LOCH-FISHING 121

When the angler is alone he has no conflicting in-
terests to consider, and can give his undivided attention
to the occupation of the moment. Unhampered by the
fear of marring another's pleasure, he may play his fish
at his leisure and in any direction which suits his
convenience and, if it must be consulted, theirs. He
enjoys unlimited freedom of action ; he may go where
he pleases ; the water — not already occupied by another
boat, for he may not queer the pitch of a brother angler
by getting in his way — is all before him where to
choose, and he may fish it in the manner which seems
most likely to provide him with all the delight it is
capable of yielding. He will, however, fail in his pur-
pose if he permits the boat to drift broadside down the
wind.

It is difficult to imagine a more unsatisfactory method
of managing the boat than that universally adopted on
our Scottish lochs. Were one in search of a means of
minimising the angler's success while permitting him to
fish, it would be hard to devise a better. It is sanc-
tioned by custom and tradition, but has nothing else to
recommend it — except to the boatman. It certainly
covers the water, but so imperfectly that much of it is
left untried, and many fish quite ready to accept the
lure are denied a chance of seeing it. Should a trout
9

122 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

be raised and missed, the boat is over it before the
angler has time to repeat his cast, or so near it that,
should it again approach the fly, the probability of
hooking it is quite infinitesimal. In the circumstances,
the angler is sure to cast in too great haste ; in a haste
which inevitably defeats his object, and sometimes leads
to unfortunate results. While, as has been already
said, a fish is being played, the boat drifts to leeward,
passing over others which, under more favourable con-
ditions, would certainly grace the basket. Every trout
killed is killed at the sacrifice of another.

Would the angler present his fly to every trout in
front of him, he must adopt a different plan. Having
chosen the stretch of water he desires to fish, he should
have the boat taken to leeward, and instruct the boat-
man to describe a course obliquely across and slightly
up-wind, while he himself should cast to windward.
The distance traversed by the boat before she is put
about is a matter of detail. With the boat so disposed,
every yard of water may be searched with care, and
few, if any, trout deprived of an opportunity of con-
sidering the fly. Should a fish be missed, the angler
need not let the incident affect his equanimity ; he may
cast again as calmly and deliberately as he pleases.
Unless the fisherman himself manipulates the net, it

LOCH-FISHING 123

will be found impossible to keep the boat in position
during the entire play of a fish ; when the gillie has, for
a moment, dropped the oars, she will necessarily drift
down wind, but she drifts over water already fished,
leaving that ahead still undisturbed. The method can,
of course, be followed only when the wind permits, and
it is fatiguing to the angler. As it also entails some
extra labour on the boatman, he is certain to have at
hand abundant, if unconvincing, reasons for adhering
to the time-hallowed system of drifting broadside down
the wind.

If the angler be ignorant of the art of casting into
the wind, or the wind be so strong that it is impossible
to throw a fly against it, drifting becomes compulsory.
But the boat should drift stern first. Her head should
be held to the wind and the boatman be at the oars
prepared to check her course or alter her direction on
instruction from the angler or in the exercise of his
own judgment. Should a fish rise to, but fail to secure,
the fly, the gillie, by a stroke of the oars, keeps the
boat above him and enables the angler to cast over
him again. As soon as a fish is hooked, the way is
taken off the boat and she is held in position until he
has been brought on board, when drifting is resumed.
That the boatman may be free to give himself entirely

124 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

to the conduct of the boat, the fisherman himself should
wield the net.

The method is, perhaps, quite as good as that first
suggested ; it permits the angler to search the water
just as thoroughly, and it imposes a lighter tax upon
his energies. It demands from the gillie, however,
a closer attention to his duties ; in the one case he
has but to remain passive, and the boat, under the
influence of the wind, drifts back over water already
exhausted, while in the other he must exert himself to
prevent the boat from trespassing on water still unfished.

When a fish is hooked from a boat disposed in the
orthodox position, it is the custom to lead it round to
windward before bringing it to the net. Though the
manoeuvre is greatly facilitated by the down-wind
course of the boat, it does not invariably succeed. In
the case of a small fish, failure is of little moment, but
in that of one large enough to demand consideration,
the angler need not be surprised should the encounter
end in favour of his quarry ; the boat drifts over the
trout, concealing it from view, and increasing consider-
ably the difficulty of accomplishing its subjection.
While the trout is to leeward, it and the boat are not
easily kept apart ; when their relative positions are
reversed, the strain on the line — due on the one hand to

LOCH-FISHING 125

the active resistance of the trout, and on the other to
the pull of the boat — renders it almost as difficult to
bring them together. Vexation may be simply and
easily avoided if the head of the boat be held to the
wind and the boatman be at the oars prepared to
anticipate the movements of the fish. The angler will,
of course, do his best to prevent the trout from passing
beneath the boat, but success lies less with him than
with the gillie, who, by a little dexterity in the handling
of the oars, need have no difficulty in keeping well away.
Should, however, the contingency occur in spite of their
combined efforts to avert it, the angler must plunge the
point of his rod into the water until the line clears the
bottom of the boat, then bring it round, either by the
bow or by the stern, to the side now occupied by the
fish. His purpose accomplished, he should raise the
rod smartly and regain command of his quarry's move-
ments.

The motive which prompts the trout to adopt a
course against which the angler and his helper should
do their utmost to persuade it, is not to sever the line
on a jagged fragment of the keel he has just discovered
from below. That may, indeed, be the result of the
manoeuvre, but, that it is deliberately designed by the
fish, only the very simple will believe.

126 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

When the wind is blowing towards the shore, the
angler may conduct his fishing in a series of short drifts.
He will find that all around the margin of the loch,
and at varying distances from the bank, the bottom
falls abruptly away, leaving a sharp line of demarcation
between the shallow water and the deep. It is pre-
cisely on that line that he may expect to reap his richest
harvest ; he must not neglect the water within it, but
to cast much beyond it, is to waste his energies. Some-
times it will happen to him to take fish only when his
flies are passing over what, in the language of the
boatman, is called the " broo," and when that is the
case he should instruct his gillie to cease drifting and
row slowly along, parallel with the brink, and just so
far outside of it that it is within an easy cast. His
flies will then be, not at intervals and for a moment, but
continuously over rising fish, and he will effect a great
economy of time and add much to his pleasure.

In angling from the bank the angler is sometimes
compelled to employ a line of unwieldy length. In
angling from a boat, however, the line need never be
long ; the angler can always be taken within easy
reach of any fish he may wish to cast over. He may
rid himself of all anxiety lest the trout be alarmed at
his approach ; they have so little fear of the boat that

LOCH-FISHING

127

I have seen them rise within the swirl caused by the
last stroke of the oar, and I have taken many on flies
trailing but a few feet astern. So indifferent are they,
indeed, that they have been actually known to leap on
board a boat at anchor. Man himself seems to be
the only thing of which they are afraid, and him,
apparently, they fail to recognise when they see him
on the water.

The angler may fish as fine as he
pleases, but he has no occasion to fish far
off He should employ a short line and
cast frequently, and a cast he may con-
sider spent while his flies are still some
distance from the boat and the curve de-
scribed by his line so slight that he can
strike quickly and effectively. A line
which is just of the right length when
he is erect will be found too long should
he attempt to use it when seated.

When fishing a loch from the bank,
the angler may burden himself with a net
or not, as seems good to him, but to the
boat-fisher that implement is indispens-
able. It should be provided with a long
handle, and, that it may not prove in-

128 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

adequate should the angler, as he occasionally does,
hook a fish of unexpected weight, it must be of some
size.

The position of the angler on board a boat is one of
much discomfort. His movements are narrowly cir-
cumscribed, and he is without a place of rest except
the hard, inhospitable stern-sheets. The gunwale, too,
appears designed for his embarrassment ; it catches him
unpleasantly across the waist and denies him the sup-
port for which his aching shoulders long.

In fishing from the bank, as from a boat, the angler
should devote himself entirely to the shallower portions
of the loch. Even these, however, he will not fish
without discrimination, and in his choice he will be
guided by several considerations, of which the nature of
the bottom — so far as it is within sight — is not the least
important. While no water deep enough to hold a
trout should be heedlessly passed over, he will exercise
particular care where stones provide his quarry with
convenient cover ; but it is in the vicinity of weeds that
he should apply himself with greatest assiduity, for there
he may most confidently anticipate success. If he be
within reach of the "broo," he will certainly find it
worthy of his attention. Whether the neighbourhood
of a stream is, in itself, likely to reward his efforts, is

LOCH-FISHING 129

extremely doubtful. If the situation has nothing else
to recommend it, he need not be surprised should it
contribute little to the filling of his creel. The average
Highland burn rushes impetuously over a bare and
rocky bed. and the fare with which it furnishes the trout
contained in it is of the scantiest. It yields them but
a meagre living, and, as iheir larder is never too bounti-
fully plenished, they do not willingly permit a fragment
of its contents to pass to the loch below. They rarely
know satiety, and only on occasions of unusual spate is
their industry unequal to the interception of all the food
the stream bears with it. Not until the autumn, when
on their way to the redds, do the trout congregate
about the burn-mouth. The sandy shallows may not,
except during the evening rise, justify the reputation
they have earned, but the fish the angler does take
there will be found more pleasing to his eye than those
he captures elsewhere. The trout taken over a dark
bottom are generally black, if not comely, while those
which haunt the yellow sands are bright in colour, and,
in their beauty, much prized objects of pursuit.

One reads occasionally that certain animals possess
the power to change their colour with the object of
bringing it into harmony with that of their surround-
ings. The gift has been conferred on them by a

130 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

beneficent Nature anxious to assist them in finding
concealment from their enemies. It would be interest-
ing to learn what these enemies think of Nature's in-
terference with their honest efforts to procure a meal ;
though, in truth, they have little reason to complain,
since they, too, share in her favours. She is quite as
ready to help the eaters as the eaten. If with one
hand she thoughtfully perfects the means of self-pro-
tection bestowed upon the prey, with the other she
arms the preyer with increasingly efficient weapons of
offence. She entertains herself in pitting each against
the other. To the Powers she has given a lesson they
have not been slow to learn ; they have proved apt
scholars, and, in devilish ingenuity, have even out-
done their teacher. The discovery of an effective
system of defence stimulates the inventor to the pro-
duction of an overpowering method of attack. The
armour-plate of great resistance leads inevitably to
the shell of high velocity. In reality, animals do
not possess the voluntary power ascribed to them ;
what change of colour or, to be precise, of tone
they undergo is as independent of volition as the
blush that mantles the modest maiden's cheek. The
trout does not consciously assume the hue of his en-
vironment.

LOCH-FISHING

131

The ansfler will be wise
to wade. Wading gives him
access to a greater area of
water and enables him to cast
to fish beyond reach from the
bank. There is nothing more
tantalising than the sight of a
large trout rising persistently
just without the limits of a cast. The young and eager
angler, fearless of consequences, may not let the spec-
tacle disturb his peace of mind. Undeterred by any-
thing so trifling as the lack of waders, he will cheerfully
enter the water, chancing a future ill in the hope of
securing a present good. He, however, who has out-
lived his youth, and in his failing energies perceives an
intimation of mortality, will, if his limbs be unprotected,
persuade himself that the fish is less desirable than it
appears, and pass on in search of an easier prey.

Where the loch is fringed with weeds, wading is
imperative. Such a fringe is sent the angler for his
good ; it disciplines his temper and teaches him to bear
affliction patiently. When angling from the bank, he
finds it impossible to cast beyond its outer border, and
every fish he hooks while wading, at once seeks refuge
in its intricacies, and, refusing to be drawn, remains

132 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

there. But, trying though it sometimes is, the angler
would not be without it ; it affords protection to the
trout and provides a nursery for the organisms on which
he lives. The difficulty presented by the weeds, how-
ever, is not insuperable ; it may be overcome if the
trout, in its first surprise, permits the angler to lift its
head above the water and drag it hurriedly along the
surface to the bank. But unless the angler acts with
promptitude, the manoeuvre is unlikely to succeed ; if
he delays until his quarry has regained its scattered
wits, he may await a second opportunity in vain.

On open water, the usual three flies may be em-
ployed with perfect safety, but where weeds abound,
two of them will be wisely dispensed with. When the
cast is furnished with a single fly, and it is in the mouth
of a fish, there are none to give the angler occasion for
profanity.

It is difficult, except to the most skilful, to cast suc-
cessfully across the wind, and when the breeze is parallel
with the shore the angler should enter the water and
fish to leeward. In a succession of casts he should
describe the arc of a circle, and when he has completed
his first series he should take a. step forward, causing
as little disturbance of the water as possible, before be-
ginning the next. Whether the initial cast be towards

LOCH-FISHING 133

the bank or outwards as far as the wind permits, is of
little moment ; but it is essential to his success that he
should cast lightly, and go carefully over all the water
in front of him. Even the immediate neighbourhood
of the shore is not to be neglected, for large fish are
often caught in water scarcely deep enough to cover
them. I have seen a trout quite two pounds in weight
rise from under the grassy margin of a Highland loch
where the depth seemed insufficient to conceal a parr,
and I have killed a fish whose dorsal fin and part of
whose back were plainly visible above the surface. In
angling from the bank, it is not unusual to find the fly
seized as it is being lifted from the water within a few
inches of the edge. The angler will soon discover that
rising fish are disposed in groups ; like the single mis-
fortunes of the Irishman, they seldom appear alone, and
where he raises one fish he may confidently hope to
meet with others. And that, notwithstanding all the
Highland boatman alleges to the contrary, is a sound
reason for refusing to abandon a spot on which he is
enjoying sport, until he is satisfied that it has been
exhausted. It is not necessarily true that he will be
quite as successful elsewhere.

In his advice to the loch-fisher Mr. Francis Francis
suggests that, in a light wind, he should pay particular

134 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

attention to the windward shore, "as in the very curl
of the small wave you will often get a pull from the
very best fish." The bewildered angler wonders how,
while fishing from the windward bank, he is to reach
the small wave beating on that opposite, perhaps a mile
away, and seeks in vain for help. When, however, he
learns in the course of his enquiry that " If it be rough
you will be compelled to fish the leeward shores," it
becomes apparent that the author of A Book on Angling
had overlooked the inadvertence of his printer — it is
not to be supposed that he was ignorant of the meaning
of the terms he used.

Whether the angler fish from the windward or the
leeward bank will, of course, be determined largely by
the wind. If that be light, he will confine his attention
wholly to the latter ; in the small wave is his only hope.
Except in a light wind, however, there is nothing to be
gained by fishing from a lee-shore. The angler is, I
know, given many reasons why he should select that
in preference to the other bank, but they possess no
weight, and need not in the least affect his choice.
With the advice, for instance, to cast up-wind that he
may draw his flies towards him in the direction of the
wave, he has no occasion to concern himself. The
spectacle of an insect freely traversing the water of

LOCH-FISHING 135

its own will is, to the trout, too familiar to excite
remark.

In a gentle wind the smooth water on the weather
shore will not, except during the evening rise, reward the
angler's industry. If he be unusually expert he may,
by the use of fine tackle and small flies, succeed in de-
ceiving an occasional rising fish, but his creel, like the
breeze, will be light ; only a Malloch of Perth fills his
basket in a calm. Should, however, the wind be of
sufficient volume to fret the water on the windward
side, he may, in perfect confidence, devote himself to
it. His lures will prove as attractive there as else-
where, and he will, besides, enjoy the advantage of a
following wind — though, if he be proficient in the exe-
cution of the " downward cut," he will, from the leeward
bank, cast a softer fly.

But the angler will seldom have occasion to choose
between the banks. Our Scottish lochs are long and
narrow, and as the wind generally blows in the direction
of their length, it affects both banks impartially. If it
be necessary to consider the question of windward and
leeward at all, it will not be with reference to the loch
as a whole, but to one of the numerous bays with which
its margin is indented. While, however, the wind blows
along the loch, the wave assumes a slightly different

136 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

course; it does not run directly before the wind; it spreads
out in fan-like form and breaks obliquely on the shores.
Loch-fishing by day in the absence of wind is the
least exciting of sports ; the fish may rise, and freely,
but not to the angler. In the evening it is otherwise.
Then they accept the fly without suspicion in water
smooth as glass. It is hard to say why they part with
their habitual caution at the close of day, for, until long
after sundown, there is still sufficient light to reveal
the fictitious nature of the lure ; more light, indeed, in
the bright, clear twilight of June than at noon on a day
"of rain. The gloaming seems to affect the vision of
the trout to a greater extent than the mere depreciation
of the light suffices to explain. During the hour which
follows sunset, wind appears positively harmful to the
interests of the angler ; I, certainly, prefer an evening
wholly windless or with just wind enough to facilitate
the act of casting. And my preference has sometimes
met with the approval of my fellow-anglers — when it
has given them what they thought was the advantage
of position. To one, at least, it proved a source of in-
finite satisfaction, since on the occasion to which I refer
it left him in undisturbed possession of the favouring
ripple, while I, in my simplicity, paced slowly to and
fro along the margin of a trifling stretch of placid water

J 3

LOCH-FISHING 137

the knowing angler would have shunned with care.
Unhappily, his satisfaction was not lasting ; it gave
place to another and a different emotion when, at the
end of the evening, he discovered that though his basket
was unsullied by a scale, mine contained two leash of
lovely trout.

It is said that the biofofer the wave the briorhter the
prospects of large fish. What everyone says is presum-
ably true, but the statement is not to be accepted with-
out qualification. Like other angling maxims, it is not
of universal application. There is no necessary relation
between the size of the wave and that of the fish ;
indeed, one sometimes finds them in inverse proportion.
Not long ago, fishing in a wind so high and a sea so
tumultuous that it was difficult to keep the boat on the
water, I caught trout in great numbers, but none that,
proved by the eight-inch measure cut on one of the
thwarts, it was found possible to retain. They were
all undersized, and, as usual when small fish are on the
move, the larger held aloof. All the boatman's in-
genuity failed to coax one of them up to the standard ;
he patted and stroked them and drew them out to their
utmost length, but they remained, without exception,
just a fraction of an inch too short. He was in despair.
There was an ever-recurring conflict between his rigid,

lO

138

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Presbyterian conscience and his fleshly inclinations, in
which the latter were invariably discomfited. They
gave in with a bad grace, however, and he followed the
fish with a reluctant eye as, restored to liberty, they dis-
appeared swiftly in the brown water. Spite of his grey
hairs, he was simple as a little child, and although he
had handled trout during his entire life-time, was still un-
able to estimate their length ; between a fish of six and
one of eight inches his untutored eye saw no distinction.

" It iss big enough to keep," said
he, critically examining our first cap-
ture as it lay in the palm of his hand.
"No, no," I exclaimed, " we'll be
laughed out of the hotel if we go back
with a fish so small. Throw it away."
"But it iss the ferry first we've
got; it wud pe a great peety no to
put it in the basket. Maybe it wud-
na be too big for a ferox."
" Measure it, then."

" Hoo can I measure it? I haf no measure here."
"There's one in the boat," I reminded him.
"Where?" he asked, looking enquiringly around
as if he expected to find an inch-tape or a three-foot
rule lying ready to his hand.

LOCH-FISHING 139

"There," I said, drawing his attention to a couple
of notches carved on the seat he was occupying.

" Oh, that ! " was the surprised reply ; " 'deed, an' I
wass forgetiin' aal about it, " and, unable any longer to
insist, he dropped the troutling gently overboard.

There seems to exist among; angrlers a foolish belief
that while the finest of tackle is essential to success on
the stream, anything will serve their purpose when loch-
fishing is in question. The error probably originates in
the use of large flies. The fish which are not to be
scared by these should see nothing alarming in a cor-
respondingly heavy cast. The reasoning is plausible,
but unconvincing. Trout everywhere are quick of
sight and easily made afraid, and the precautions ob-
served on the river cannot be safely ignored on the
loch. Even if it were true that coarse tackle failed to
impair the success of the angler, it would seriously mar
his enjoyment of the sport, unless, indeed, he gauges
his enjoyment by the number of fish he kills and not by
the conditions under which he kills them. We are all,
of course, pleased to produce a well-fijled creel in testi-
mony of our prowess, but our liveliest pleasure precedes
the actual capture of the trout ; it is in the pursuit, not
in the possession, that we find our greatest joy. In the
excitement, the delightful excitement, which accom-

140 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

panics the playing of a large and vigorous fish on gut
as light as gossamer, there is an element of fear that
our quarry may escape us. Without the anxiety which
haunts us from the moment we have hooked a trout
until we have placed it safely in the basket or on board
the boat, angling would be deprived of much of its
charm. There is no satisfaction in a victory gained by
mere superiority of strength ; when the result is a fore-
gone conclusion it ceases to interest us. Were the
angler's purpose solely the acquisition of fish, he would
accomplish it much more speedily and much more surely
by the employment of a net.

In the boy, the dread of losing the object of his
desire is the predominating emotion, and he gives the
fish no law. He is unhappy until it is within his pos-
session, and hastens the moment which sees it palpi-
tating at his feet. He fishes with the heaviest and
stoutest gut he can procure. He has no thought of art
for art's sake ; he longs for material results, and the
more expeditiously they can be attained the better
pleased he is. With experience, however, he ceases
to value the trout as an article of property ; it becomes
an object on which he may exercise his skill, and in the
knowledge that his success in bringing it to the net is
due less to the strength of his tackle than to the dex-

LOCH-FISHING 141

terity with which he wields the rod lies the secret of his
pleasure.

The trout in the majority of our Scottish lochs aver-
age little more than a quarter of a pound in weight, and
they afford no sport save on the most delicate of tackle.
Since, however, the angler may find an occasional triton
among the minnows, his cast, though fine, must be sound.
It must be capable of meeting all contingencies. There
is small satisfaction in fishing with a cast so frail that
the chances are all in favour of the fish ; that, no matter
how deft the angrier, his failure is assured. He will,
too, occasionally find large trout in the most improbable
of places, and he should be prepared to deal with the
situation. Of one such discovery I have curiously
conflictin'g recollections.

It was, however unlike it, a morning in August.
During the night a chill, damp mist had crept up from
the sea and enveloped the landscape in its clammy folds.
Our goal — a profound secret — was a little lochan high
on the distant tops, and the way to it was long and
weary. When we left the road which winds its sinuous
way among the hills, we stepped upon a trackless wild,
but to my companion the hillside was familiar as his
own kail-yard, and he strode the heather with the con-
fidence of perfect knowledge. So dense was the fog

142

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

and so unvarying and featureless the pall it hung around
us that we seemed, not to pass through it, but to bear
it with us. We moved encircled by a curtain of cloud
which kept pace with our advance. Rarely, it was wafted
aside for a moment, revealing a heath-clad slope in front,
only to close in on us again, swiftly and silently, when
the light wind had passed. It did not entirely isolate
us. Though impenetrable to the eye, it left the ear
in communication with an outer world. We saw
nothing save the blank, white wall, but the air was
filled with sound ; with one sound, the saddest in all
nature, the plaintive bleating of unhappy ewes lament-
ing the removal of their young.

As we toiled painfully and
slowly upward, we were occa-
sionally aware of other signs of
life. Now a sheep, startled by
our sudden intrusion on the soli-
tude, sprang aside from our path
and, with a whistle of alarm,
disappeared from view ; now a
grouse-cock, unwarned of our
approach — the grouse seems
to possess a defective sense of
hearing — hurled himself from

LOCH-FISHING 143

the ground at our feet and fled in ludicrous panic,
shrieking his absurd appeal, " Go back ! go back ! "
I was longing earnestly for the end of the arduous
climb, when I came suddenly and unexpectedly upon
the loch. I shuddered at sight of it. Two great funereal
piles of rock stood threateningly in front, as if set to bar
the way, and between and beyond them lay a black,
repulsive water. A heron rose
slowly from the bank as we ap-
proached, and, with hoarse croak,
flapped heavily into the mist, which
swathed the hills as a shroud, and writhed
along the loch in thin wisps like the wraiths
of long- forgotten dead asleep beneath its
inky wave. The loch was wrapped in an
atmosphere of awe. It suggested all kinds of grue-
some thoughts ; of graves, and charnel houses, and
the dim, dark under-world beyond. Murder and
sudden death lurked in its sullen depths. Crimes
unspeakable lay hidden beneath its sombre waters.
I neared it with hesitating feet, and it was almost in
dread that I cast a fly on its forbidding surface.
What it contained I knew not, but surely no mortal
trout swam in that unholy tarn.

144 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

" O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear ;
A sense of mystery the spirit daunted
And said, as plain as whisper in the ear.
The place is haunted."

I was unpleasantly conscious of the close presence of
something weird and uncanny, and moved furtively
about, a prey to vague, unapprehended fears. I was
an intruder on ground not meant for human foot.

It was but a little piece of water, and it promised
me no sport. All I could reasonably hope to get from
it was a few small trout, black as the bottom of peat on
which it rested. Exhausted by the long ascent, I threw
myself upon the heather above the margin of the loch
and dropped a languid fly into the water below. The
outlook was discouraging, and, lying still, I cast idly and
without interest in front of me. I was thinking of any-
thing except the occupation in which I was perfunctorily
engaged, when my wandering thoughts were hurriedly
recalled by a great upheaval of the water in the vicinity
of my tail fly. The fish did not reveal himself, nor did
he touch the lure, but from the commotion he produced
he was obviously no puny trout. My listlessness for-
sook me in a flash, and I became at once as keen and
eager as I had been indifferent before. Springing to
my feet, I cast over him again, prepared to strike at

LOCH-FISHING 145

the faintest indication of a rise, but he refused me an
opportunity of repairing my mistake. He had, how-
ever, put me on the alert, and I began to fish with
circumspection and in hope.

I was fishing fine, but, though convinced that my
preconceptions of the character of the trout in the loch
had been absurdly far astray, I did not change my cast
It was, I thought, sound enough to withstand any strain
to which it was likely to be subjected, and the light,
uncertain wind scarcely stirred the surface of the water.
There was reason to fear that, in the circumstances,
even the most delicate of gut would challenge the at-
tention of the trout and excite their apprehension. But,
as it proved, there was no occasion for concern ; my
flies were accepted with a confidence that was touching,
and before I left the tarn five great fish had succumbed
to their seduction. They were a revelation to me. I
had anticipated small, dark, unsightly trout not worth
the trouble their pursuit involved ; those I found were
large, well-conditioned, and beautifully bright in colour.
Of the possibilities of the loch my gillie, to be sure, was
well aware, but, probably with the object of springing
a surprise on me, he had kept his knowledge carefully
concealed.

But though a delight to the eye, on the hook the

146 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

fish were a painful disappointment. Lusty and power-
ful as they looked, they put up no fight ; their energy
was spent in one short rush, and thereafter, persuaded
by the pliant reed, they came to the bank with a meek-
ness surpassing that of the lamb to the slaughter.
They bowed to the will of Fate with a resignation
exasperating to the angler in search of a sensation.
Fat and, apparently, scant of breath like Hamlet, they
seemed incapable of prolonged or violent exertion. Of
the five, only one made any display of vigour and ac-
tivity, and as, on finding his liberty restricted, he sprang
into the air. he appeared a very salmon. At sight of
him my heart leapt, and I looked forward to an anxious
and exciting time, but he was quick as the others to
recognise his destiny, and all too- soon he lay stretched
upon the shingle by the water's edge, a much less noble
fish than fancy — and the fog — had pictured him.

As a source of pleasurable excitement to the angler,
the fish were almost valueless, but in their beauty they
were not unworthy of his quest. They were all of a
size, from one and a half to two pounds in weight, and
their presence in a water so unlikely was not easily
explained. To the unscientific fisherman, at least, the
problem of their food supply was quite beyond solution,
though the entomologist might have found the explana-

LOCH-FISHING

147

tion of their bulk in the peaty loam with which the
bottom of the loch was thickly lined. It was certainly
not on a diet of fish that they had thriven so lustily,
for they roamed the depths of the water alone.

Though the loch had afforded me an unexpected
pleasure, I was glad to get away from it. It was a
relief to escape its eerie influence. When we prepared
to leave its banks, the fog had been long dispelled, but
even the sun, which now shone down on it from a
cloudless sky, failed to lighten the gloom in which it
was enwrapped. I am ignorant of its name, but no
loch has a better title to be known as "dubh."

Now, I may have
erred in supposing
that about the ground
around the loch there
was anything particu-
larly sacred, but to
Alastair and me it
was certainly taboo.
Riorht to board that
galley we had none.
And our success
had perched us
on the horns of

148 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

a dilemma ; the sacrifice of fish so lovely and so dearly
bought was not to be endured, yet to take them with
us was to publish wide the story of our trespass.
"What," I enquired of the partner of my guilt, "shall
we do? M'Tavish will see at once that these trout
have not been taken from Loch-an-Leannan," Alastair
reserved his answer ; he was, for the moment, without
an inspiration. During the subsequent descent of the
hill, however, he was obviously pondering the weighty
problem, and ere we reached the loch on which, had we
been honest anglers, we should have been engaged, his
subtle intellect — he might have been a Jesuit — had
found a simple means of satisfying every disconcerting
query. Placing the fish in the net, he plunged them
beneath the water, and, with a smile, said : " It's not a
lie I will be telling them ; the troot have come oot o'
Loch-an-Leannan " !

In its application to the loch, the question, "What
is the proper fly?" is wholly superfluous. The angler
need not concern himself about the parochial limitations
of the trout's menu. He will find the fish in one loch
very much like those in another, similar in their tastes
and appreciating the same fare. He has no occasion
to burden himself with a great variety of flies ; they
are things of beauty and make a brave show in the

LOCH-FISHING 149

wallet, but the only purpose served by their diversity
is the gratification of his aesthetic sense. Between
Tweedside and John o' Groat's the half-dozen patterns
prescribed by Stewart will suffice for all his wants.
The trout he fails to entice with these will be found
insensible to the charms of the most seductive-looking
lures he likes to offer them. If, however, he is not
satisfied with Stewart's flies, he may furnish himself
with those of Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell.. Since he
will find one selection quite as useful as the other, it is
a matter of indifference which he chooses. But he has
no need to adopt either unless he pleases ; in making
his choice he may safely rely on his own taste, which
he will certainly find in harmony with that of the fish.

Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell maintains that the first
three flies on his list are indispensable to the loch-
fisher. It is a courageous statement, but we may pre-
sume that he feels justified In making it. Personally,
I am aware of no fly with which we could not dispense
without a sacrifice of sport, but were I asked with
which lure I should be least willing to part, I should
answer, unhesitatingly, the Red Hackle — in any of its
varied dressings. It seems that every angler has a
favourite fly, a fly he is never willingly without, and
that named is mine. I am not, however, in a position

150 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

to submit any scientific evidence in justification of my
choice. My preference, my affection, for the fly is pos-
sibly altogether sentimental ; I remember it gratefully
as the lure by which I first succeeded in deceiving the
shy and cautious trout. I cannot conscientiously affirm
that it is more fatally fascinating than other flies ; if in
my experience it seems to have proved specially allur-
ing, it may not be because of any merit of its own, but
because it has had larger opportunities. Other lures I
have had in intermittent use, but it has occupied a per-
manent position on my cast. They have come and gone ;
it goes on for ever. What it resembles I do not pretend
to know, but I have yet to see the water on which it
will not prove attractive. Armed with it alone, I have
attained success as great as, and sometimes greater than,
that of those still under the dominion of traditional belief.
If there is anything to criticise in Mr. Pennell's flies,
it is their size. Unless they are inaccurately figured in
the Badminton Library volume on angling, they are
unnecessarily large. There is no apparent reason why
the flies with which we fish the loch should be larger
than those designed for the river. Since there is no
essential difference between the two, since the loch is
but an expanded pool, the lure which proves enticing
on the one should not be without attraction on the

LOCH-FISHING

151

other. The majority of our trout streams are, to be

sure, small and comparatively shallow, but the trout in

the loch are not found in the depths, but in water not

more than six or eight feet deep. In loch-fishing we

habitually employ flies much too large. It is true that

they kill, for they do not exceed in size many of the

insects familiar to the fish, but

they are, I think, less fatal than

those employed upon the stream.

Large flies are of value only

when the sea is high ; small flies

in any condition of the water.

In a calm the employment of the

latter is imperative ; in a breeze

they serve the angler's purpose

quite as efficiently as the former.

The trout is keen of sight and detects the presence of

the smallest object even on the crest of a breaking wave.

Even thoug-h the ano^ler fail to raise more fish to the

smaller flies, he will probably secure more, for, since

they do not so readily betray their character, the trout

accept them in greater confidence and are less likely to

come short to them.

I am in the habit of fishing a little loch of which it
was, at one time, confidently said, that the great, full-

152 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

fed trout contained in it were too indolent to rise to
anything smaller than a Mayfly. On an object less in
size they turned a slow, uninterested eye ; it was un-
worthy of an effort more demonstrative. When, in the
course of years, the fishing changed hands, it was dis-
covered with surprise that the fish possessed more
energy and were less discriminating in their choice
of food than had been thought. The new tenants,
ignorant of, or indifferent to, the traditional reputation
of the trout, fished the loch with small flies and had
every reason to be pleased with their reception.

The conviction that the trout were to be taken only
with large flies had endured for years, but, as it was en-
tirely without foundation, it failed to survive the simplest
test. It, of course, received no new adherents, but those
by whom it had been held were loth to give it up ; they
clung to it with great tenacity, and listened, incredulous,
to tales of giant trout accepting readily the most
diminutive of lures. They refused to acknowledge the
evidence while they could, and only when it was no
longer possible to doubt, did they grudgingly consent
to modify their views. They would not frankly admit
their error, but weakly sought to evade the difficulty by
assuming that the tastes and habits of the trout had
undergone a sudden change. We are all slow to part

THE DOCHART,

LOCH-FISHING

153

with dear, long-entertained beliefs, and many of us,
while willing enough to be convinced, would, like the
disputant of the story, be pleased to see the man who
could convince us.

What objects in nature are supposed to be repro-
duced in the gaudy confections we call loch-flies, we do
not know. They are made in the likeness of nothing
entomological, and probably owe their origin to the
whim of their designers. They certainly bear no re-
semblance to anything specific within the experience of
the trout, and if he takes them^and he does take them
just as readily as he takes the most truthful imitation of
nature — it is not because he sees in them objects whose
qualities, as articles of diet, he has already proved.
They are apparently alive, and few things living come
amiss to him.

But not all our loch-flies are non-
descripts; for one, at least, has a proto-
type been found in nature. It has been
discovered that the Red and Teal
embodies the artist's conception of the
so-called fresh-water shrimp. To the
unimaginative observer, the likeness
between the bright scarlet and pale
grey product of art and the dingy, yel-

154 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

low-brown little crustacean is not very obvious ; is,
indeed, so far from obvious that, if the trout be capable
of confounding them, the contention of Sir Herbert
Maxwell must be held as proved. To a fish not colour-
blind, the distinction between the two must be glaringly-
apparent. Even assuming that the trout may fail to
distinguish the colour of the fly, is it credible that he
can mistake an object as big as a butterfly — the lure is
sometimes dressed large — for the diminutive gammarus.-*
But, since the lure in question seems to bear a re-
semblance to a great variety of things, the angler need
not let the matter disturb his equanimity ; he will find
the practical utility of the fly quite unaffected by our
theories of its origin,

"Of course," writes Mr. Andrew Lang, "on a
Sutherland loch one man is as good as another ; the
expert no better than the duffer." There is a general
impression that even on lochs less remote all anglers
are in a position of equality. The genesis of the im-
pression is not hard to trace. The loch, except in a
calm, affords little opportunity for the exercise of skill.
Casting ceases to be an art; the angler has but to raise
his rod, and his flies, borne forward on the favouring
breeze, fall softly on the water. Knowledge of the
habits of the trout is a useless possession ; it gives the

LOCH-FISHING 155

learned little advantage over the learner ; their chances
of raising fish are almost on a par. But we know that
on the loch, as on the river, fortunes vary and baskets
are not all alike. Two men fishinor too^ether under the
same weather conditions and with similar lures may
show very different results on quitting the water in the
evening. And the difference between them may not
be confined to an isolated instance ; it may be repeated
day after day while they remain on the loch. It does
not necessarily imply that the art of the successful
angler surpasses that of his less fortunate companion,
but it is too constant to be ascribed to chance. It
obviously owns a cause in continuous operation ; it
suggests a permanent distinction between the men
themselves.

My friend Thomson is one of the most fortunate
fishermen 1 know. Fish what loch he pleases, he
generally contrives to hold his own, and not infre-
quently he succeeds in beating all competitors. Having
few theories concerning flies, he accepts without demur
those his tackle-maker recommends to him, provided
they be small and dressed on the finest of gut. As he
is but an indifferent performer with the rod, and knows
it, he gives himself no credit for a success entirely due
to what, he asseverates, is luck. Since, however, it

156 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

is rare to find the fickle goddess so unremittingly at-
tentive, his explanation does not altogether satisfy our
reason. I had once the pleasure of spending a day
in his society and of studying his methods, in which
there seemed to me nothing strikingly original. There
were eight anglers on the loch, and all were equally
affected by the weather, which could scarcely have been
less propitious. It blew hard, and nicety in casting was
not required ; even the splash of a clumsily thrown
salmon-fly would have passed unperceived in the tur-
moil of waters. My friend began fishing with the
others and left the loch when they did, yet his creel
contained exactly the same number of fish as all the
rest together.

The popular opinion that the loch is a democracy
in which all men are equal, is erroneous. It may,
however, be true enough that the adept is no better
than the tyro ; as the race is not to the swift nor the
battle to the strong, so success in loch-fishing is not
to the skilful. In angling, as in other things, success
is the reward of diligence. It is the persevering fisher
whose basket is heaviest at the end of the day. If
fortune is to be won, it must be wooed ; it will not
come unsought. The successful angler is not easily
discouraged. He does not, when trout are coy, lay

LOCH-FISHING

157

(&

aside his rod and seek consolation in that never-failing
comforter, the pipe ; nor, withdrawing to the shade of

a convenient tree, find alleviation
of his grief in sleep. Whether
fish are on the move or not, his
efforts are sustained. Though
continuous casting on a blank
and unresponsive water damps
the ardour of the most sanguine,
hope never entirely deserts him.
He maintains a Mark Tapleyan cheerfulness in the
most adverse and depressing of circumstances, and
continues to "peg away," certain that where there are
trout his industry is not all in vain. He secures an
occasional fish which the indolent would inevitably
miss.

The secret of my own good luck was once revealed
to me by a candid boatman.

" I ken noo," said he, when we had been several
days together, '* hoo ye catch sae mony mair fish than
ony ither body."

" Why ? " I asked, anticipating a compliment.
"It's juist," was the reply, "because ye're never
done. Ye're aye cast, castin', an' ye canna lay doon
yer rod even when ye're at yer lunch,"

158 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

As I had been pluming myself on what I had been
pleased to think my superior skill, I was inclined to
resent the commonplace and humiliating explanation of
my success. Now I am wiser. I know that the boat-
man was right, and I agree with him as I agree with
the ancient Highlander who, in answer to something I
had said, declared that, "If ye waant to catch fish, ye
maun keep yer flees in the waater." It is quite true ;
the trout caught by the flies in the boat or on the bank
are easily counted.

Loch -fishing is at its best in the early part of the
season, and the months during which it is most suc-
cessfully pursued are April, May, and June. On some
lochs, such as Loch Katrine and Loch Ard, the sport
is of very short duration ; it is practically over before
the end of May. July is, as a rule, unprofitable to the
loch fisher, and August is, if anything, still worse.
During these two months the trout, apparently satiated
with surface food, refuse to rise to the fly by day,
although after sundown they still continue to afford
entertainment to the angler. With the advent of Sep-
tember, however, they show a disposition to resume
their surface-feeding habits, but, as by that time they
are beginning to lose condition, their quest yields little
satisfaction. But, as concerns the time at which they

LOCH-FISHING

159

may be visited with greatest profit to the angler, lochs
differ widely from each other. When the fishing in
one is long past its best, that in another, perhaps but
a few miles away, has not yet begun. Since, there-
fore, it is impossible to discuss the subject in any but
general terms, the angler in search of specific informa-
tion should consult Lyall's Sportsjuan s Guide. In it,
he will probably find all he desires to know.

jSi U-' '

CHAPTER V

THE WEATHER

H E angler may fish in any con-
dition of weather he pleases ;
not, however, that all weathers
are equally propitious, but that
no weather need keep him
from the water. There are
times when past experience
leads us to anticipate an empty
creel, but since from past ex-
perience we have also learned
that we cannot, in any circum-
stances, foretell with certainty
the mood in which we shall find
the fish, we need never despair — nor ever feel confident
of success. The question of weather as it affects fly-
fishing is as old as that art itself. It troubled our
fathers as it troubles us, and as it will continue to
trouble those by whom we are succeeded. We have

THE WEATHER 161

added nothing to our knowledge since Venator was
informed that he who considers the subject too curiously
"shall be a little superstitious."

The atmospheric causes to which we ascribe the
seemingly erratic behaviour of the trout are, with our
information, past finding out. Not until some one with
a Darwin's faculty for generalization has furnished
us with new facts and co-ordinated those we now
possess, shall we have an explanation of his caprices.
He has taught us that in angling, more than in any-
thing else, it is the unexpected that happens, and the
surprises with which he provides us follow each other
so frequently that they soon cease to surprise. His
conduct is altogether incalculable. On one day we
find him accepting the fly with delightful alacrity, and
on the next, under what are, to us, precisely similar
conditions, he is not to be charmed by the most fascin-
ating fly in our possession. The weather which, to-
day, seems to favour the interests of the angler, he
finds, to-morrow, arrayed on the side of his quarry. I
have, on a day of alternate sunshine and shower, taken
fish only while the rain continued falling ; and I have,
on the contrary, seen them put down at once by an
approaching cloud, to reappear when the sun was again
on the water.

162 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

** Is this a good day for fishing ? " is a question fre-
quently submitted to the angler on his way towards
the water. The subtle distinction between fishing and
catching fish, though obvious to the small boy caught
sinfully plying his rod on Sunday, generally escapes
the questioner. His language lacks precision. It fails
to convey his meaning with perfect accuracy. What
he really desires to learn is, whether the day is one on
which the trout are likely to be rising freely — and that,
the angler, being neither a prophet nor the son of one,
cannot tell him. We may call no man happy until he
is dead, nor, until it is over, can we say of a day that
it is either good or bad. It is as foolish to weigh one's
JDasket before the evening as to count one's chickens
while they are still in the egg. What constitutes a
good day it is impossible to define. There are, to be
sure, days on which we feel justified in anticipating
success, and others on which we have reason to fear
defeat, but, since our hopes and our fears alike rest on
probabilities alone, we have no assurance that they
will be realized. Our hopes may be belied and the
failure we dreaded be converted into our greatest
triumph. I have returned blank on a day that seemed
made for the angler, and the heaviest creel I ever
carried home was filled in a blinding snow-storm.

THE WEATHER 163

There is a popular impression that a grey day is
favourable to the prospects of the angler. I do not
doubt it, but the description is inadequate ; it is too
vague and indefinite to enable us to recognise the par-
ticular variety of grey day enshrined in the belief I
remember one such day which fully justified the popular
faith. The temperature was high ; there was not a
breath of wind stirring; the air was close and muggy —
steamy as that of a laundry — and a thin rain dripped
slowly from a sky monotonously drab. I was not
fishing, but curiosity prompted me to visit the water.
I stood on the bank with fingers itching to grasp a rod,
and watched the fish. They were rising in numbers,
but they, too, seemed to feel the enervating influence of
the day, and their movements were languid and slow.
They rose quietly and leisurely, and in taking the fly
scarcely broke the surface of the water. But what they
lacked in haste they made up in perseverance, for they
continued to feed with the same calm deliberation during
all the time I kept them under observation.

That is one type of grey day, but there are others,
and others less likely to promote the fortunes of the
angler. When dark, and ragged, and rain-laden clouds
drive low across the sky, and a hard, cold wind is
sweeping in fitful gusts along the water, the trout ob-

164 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

stinately refuse to consider the fly. The surface of the
loch, cheerless and bleak, is a lifeless waste on which
the angler casts his lure in vain. He may persevere
for hours with a perseverance worthy of a more hope-
ful cause, may change his flies again and again, may
resort to every artifice he knows, but his labour wins
no recompense. In the circumstances, the stream
yields him just as little profit. A chill, squally, vari-
able wind is the pet aversion of the Highland gillie.
"I don't," he groans, "like thae black squaals on the
waater ; we'll no get a fesh the day," and his evil
prognostications are invariably fulfilled. Well, not
perhaps invariably ; if even on such days the trout
were not occasionally disposed to approach the surface,
the angler would know that in, at least, one variety of
weather he might spare himself the unnecessary trouble
of putting up his rod. What it is that, under the con-
ditions I have indicated, prevents the fish from rising,
I cannot tell. It is not the cold, for I have taken trout
when the temperature was below freezing point and
ice covered the shallow water by the margin of the
loch ; nor, since sport is often lively in a gale, is it that
the gusty wind blows the flies from off the surface.
We should, possibly, seek the cause of the trout's in-

THE WEATHER

165

difference in the combination of conditions which we
name the "day," and it may be that he is affected, not
directly, but through the medium of his food. Certain
states of weather, which elude analysis, interfere with
that process in the life-history of the fly known, I
understand, as the " hatch," and as the trout fails to
find the fly either mature on the surface of the water
or in its nymphal stage on its way towards it, he is
compelled to stay the cravings of appetite on what he
can gather on the bottom or among the weeds. The
explanation is not quite satisfactory ; the trout does not
rise to the natural fly, for the very sufficient reason that
there is no fly to rise to, but that need not render him
insensible to the angler's lure should it be brought
within his sight. It probably requires an abundance of
surface food to stimulate his palate and tempt him from
his habitual haunts in the mirky
depths of the water. A vagrant
insect is not worth his notice.

No, a grey day does not neces-
sarily ensure the angler's happiness.
Not even on the southerly wind
and the cloudy sky he, like the
huntsman, beseeches of his gods.

JT ^

166 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

can he implicitly rely. While there may be some
justification for the boon he craves, he will find, not
infrequently, the bright presence of the sun still more
favourable to his interests. Early in the season, if the
water be sufficiently disturbed to aid him in concealing
the unreality of his lure, he may hope to achieve a
greater success under a cloudless than under a veiled
sky.

The east wind is the bugbear of the fisherman. For
years, since before Dame Juliana Berners' days indeed,
it has been thought destructive of his hopes. But
though an ill wind, " nae maitter," as the old woman
said, " whitna airt it blaws frae," it is better than its
reputation. There is a soul of good in all things evil,
and even it is not without a saving- o-race. It is the
favourite wind on Loch Leven, and, did we do it the
justice it deserves, it would be held in equal estimation
elsewhere. Why it does not prejudice the success of
the angler on the historic loch which holds such melan-
choly interest for the Scot, we learn from Mr. W. Earl
Hodgson. It seems that when it first impinges on our
shores, the east wind is relatively mild and temperate,
and that the cold, harsh character for which it is so
justly infamous, is gradually acquired as it sweeps across
the country towards the west. In forced obedience to

THE WEATHER 167

an imperative necessity of his being, man seeks to
penetrate effects to the causes underlying them. He
demands the reason of phenomena and is unhappy till
he gets it — or something sufficiently resembling it to
satisfy his scientific curiosity. But his thirst for know-
ledge is sometimes easily assuaged, and hypothesis too
often fills the place that should be occupied by fact.
Mr. Hodgson assumes that the influence the east wind
exercises in Kinross is unlike that it exercises in Ar-
gyllshire, and, in support of one unwarranted assump-
tion, employs a second equally unreasonable. There
is, so far as I am aware, no evidence that the east wind
undergoes the change affirmed by Mr. Hodgson ; and
experience has convinced me that, if it promotes the
pleasure of the angler on Loch Leven, it is no less
helpful to the angler on waters nearer the Atlantic
coast.

Many years ago, when tasks which now I willingly
evade were undertaken lightly, I visited, in the early
hours of a bleak June morning, a little loch set in the
middle of a wide plateau high up among the hills of
Cowal. The wind was easterly and very cold, and, to
add to my discomfort, rain was falling heavily. So
dismal was the outlook, that it seemed folly to pro-
ceed, and reason suggested that I should return to the

168

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

warmth and comfort of the bed I
had just vacated. But the sugges-
tion passed unheeded, and, cold,
wet, and dejected, I pursued my
way, cursing the stupidity by
which I had been drawn abroad
on such a morning. The sight
presented by the loch was ample
compensation for all that I had
undergone or was likely yef to
undergo. Cold, rain, all things
unpleasant, were instantly for-
gotten, and the gloom in which my thoughts were
wrapped incontinently fled. It was no longer folly by
which I had been prompted to defy the elements ; it
was a happy inspiration. Tails were flashing into sight
in all directions, and audible above the soughing of the
wind and the washing of the water on the shingle, was
the loud, continuous sound of splashing trout. The
spectacle was one to arouse the enthusiasm of the least
excitable of anglers, and with stiff and uncertain fingers
I hastily put up my rod. Though in the extraordinary
activity of the trout as they dashed to and fro on the
surface of the water there was a hint of frolic, they
were not in play. Their animation had a serious

THE WEATHER 169

motive ; it was the result of a fortunate conjunction of
unusual opportunity and ever-ravenous appetite. So
hungry were the fish that my iiies were seized as soon
as they reached the surface, and so confiding in their
hunger that it was almost in shame that I consigned
them to my creel. But I was young and eager, and
never before had I been oriven a chance of CTluttingf
my passion for the rod. Memorable as the occasion
was, I look back on it with little satisfaction, for I con-
tinued to fish long after I had wrung from the sport all
the pleasure it was capable of yielding. Had I been
older and wiser, I would have ceased while still at the
height of my enjoyment ; I should have known that
satiety would be followed by the usual revulsion.

An evil reputation is not easily lived down, and
many generations of anglers will have passed, before
the east wind receives the recognition its virtues merit.
// is not the wind that most deserves the angler's
execrations. The ancient dooro^erel which affirms that

"When the wind is in the north
The skilful fisher goes not forth,"

has reason — if it has not rhyme — to recommend it. It
may not be literally true, for he is unworthy of the
name of angler who is kept from the water by any wind
that blows, but the hint it conveys of the character of

12

170

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

the north wind will be appreciated by every fly-fisher.
That wind has certainly done me nothing but unkind-
nesses, and its last and crowning injury I am unlikely
ever to forget. Many suns have gone down on my
wrath since my unhappy experience of its malice, and
they will be followed by many more before I can think
of it with equanimity.

I was fishing a Loch Fyne-side loch in which the
trout are so plentiful and so ready to accept what the
honest angler offers them that sport soon palls and one
grows weary of the useless slaughter. Their facile cap-
ture involves no skill, and, since they are small, yields
little pleasure. On the occasion referred to, however,
they were unusually dour, and the unremitting industry
of a long day was inadequately rewarded with a dozen
poor fish.

During an entire week
the wind sat — if anything
in such impetuous motion
can properly be said to sit
— stubbornly in the north.
It blew a perfect hurricane,
and brought with it fre-
quent showers of hail and
sleet, against the pitiless

THE WEATHER 171

assaults of which the hapless anglers were without
defence. It came in wild and vicious gusts, tearing
the foaming crests from the waves and whirling them
in spindrift down the loch. It blustered and stormed
and almost drove us from the water in its fury. So
full of purpose seemed its violence, that it was hard to
believe ourselves the victims of soulless force and not
the sport of a vindictive demon whose dearest mission
in life was to harass and annoy the angler. It pursued
us unrelentingly, and seemed to howl and shriek in
fiendish enjoyment of our discomfiture. There was no
escape from it ; go where we would, it sought and
never failed to find us. Outside, it blew in a uniform
direction down the loch, but in the nooks and corners
into which we vainly fled for shelter, it was variable
and uncertain, and swirled about from point to point in
a manner quite confounding. It screamed down every
hollow in the hills and raged round every headland,
and was here, and there, and everywhere at once. It
caught at the angler's rod and strove to wrest it from
his grasp ; it assailed himself and did its wicked best to
hurl him from the boat. It deprived angling of all its
pleasure and converted it into a continuous struggle,
in which the fisherman rarely secured an advantage.
Angling was impossible ; if the angler, seeking to

172

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

utilize a seemingly propitious moment, made an attempt
to cast, the wind, waiting the opportunity, turned sud-
denly about, and, seizing his line, dashed it in his face.
If, in its malicious playfulness, it did permit his flies to
reach the surface, they were immediately snatched up
and blown, like Tennyson's rooks, "about the sky."

^^v/--

Uncertain as are the conditions under which the
angler's pastime is pursued, there is one variety of
weather in which he may anticipate success with a
confidence he will seldom find misplaced. It may occur
at any time throughout the summer, and generally con-
tinues for several days together. It is distinguished by
unusual warmth, by sunny skies, and by the ordered

THE WEATHER 173

conduct of that symbol of inconstancy, the wind, which,
starting from the east at break of day, accompanies the
sun upon his daily race, and slips quietly back into the
east again as night prepares to spread her mantle o'er
a tired and slumberous world. On the eveninor of such
a day the trout are almost certain to be rising freely.

Of one June evening of the kind I still retain a very
pleasant memory. The sun is setting amid streaks of
purple cloud in a sky of amethyst and green. The loch
is placid as a mirror, save where an occasional caddis-
• fly, just relieved of its pupal-case,

- ^~^r^\CBKSS^^ scurries along the surface of the
~^^^^^^^ water. The flies pursue their

aimless way unchecked, for the
trout are not yet on the move. Neither is the
angler. He lies outstretched upon the grassy bank,
falling, like the mild-eyed Lotus-eaters, asleep in a half
dream. It is an hour inviting to reverie. Sunk in
thought, he lies unconscious of his surroundings. A
pair of summer-snipe flit past him, emitting their
peculiar note, but he does not see them; a "peesweep"
overhead, coming on him unawares, utters a cry of
alarm as it suddenly diverges in its flight, but he does
not hear it. There is but one sound to which his ears
are open. The loud "flop" of a feeding fish recalls

174 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

him to a sense of his position, and he awakes with a
start, to realize that the sun has left the sky and his
hour is come. He springs to his feet, lifts the rod
lying at his side, and as he passes his cast, exposed to
a prolonged soaking, through his fingers, carefully scans
the water near. As he gazes, a large phryganea comes
to the surface just beyond the weeds, and, after dis-
carding its now useless shuck, makes hurriedly for the
bank. The drag it occasions would be the despair of
the dry-fly fisher, but excites no apprehension in the
fish. While the angler is speculating on the prob-
abilities of its gaining a place of safety, there is a swirl
in the water and its brief career abruptly terminates.
It is speedily avenged. The angler's fly drops lightly
into the centre of the disturbance caused by the rising
fish and is allowed to sink. There is a moment of ex-
pectancy ; the water again breaks, the line tightens
with a jerk and runs quickly out, and soon a lovely
trout of a pound and a half in weight lies quivering
at the angler's feet. Not a second has been lost in
playing him, for the fish are now astir and time is of
inestimable value. They are rising in the shallows all
around the margin of the loch, and if not in great num-
bers, for the water is but thinly populated, in numbers
sufficient to promise him abundant sport.

THE WEATHER 175

The loch is no longer the glassy expanse it was
before sundown ; an air of wind, the usual evening
zephyr, has come out of the east, ruffling the surface of
the water and shivering into a thousand gems of light
the glow reflected from the still luminous sky. The
angler loiters along the windward bank, casting as he
goes. He does not confine himself to rising fish ; he
knows that beneath, if unseen, are others eager to act
as the instruments of Fate in accomplishing the end of
some poor, unsuspecting fly. Yet eye and ear are alert
to warn him of a rise, and he is ready, at a moment's
notice, to abandon the quest of the fish which may be,
for that of the fish which is. Though his attitude
befits his occupation and the scene, he is occasionally
betrayed into unbecoming haste ; now and then the
sight of a swirl on the water some distance off sends
him hurrying to the spot before the trout has time to
leave it. Sometimes, too, in his anxiety to make the
most of the short hour at his disposal, he runs excitedly
from trout to trout in a manner quite destructive of his
dignity, and possibly also of his hopes.

The rise continues until the close approach of dark,
when it ceases as suddenly as it began. While the
angler is hastily playing his last fish, others are at hand
awaiting his leisure, but by the time it has been placed

176 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

within his creel they have disappeared, to return no
more to-night. He has taken eleven fish, averaging
fully a pound in weight, but, anxious to obtain the
dozen, determines, spite of long experience, to continue
fishing. The water, lately dimpled everywhere by
feeding trout, is now tranquil and quiet, and after a
quarter of an hour's unprofitable labour he is compelled
to desist, his tale still incomplete.

The following extract from my note- book concerns
just such an occasion as that I have endeavoured to
describe: — ^" April 20th, 1901. Evening, 7.30 to 8.30,
after a bright and exceptionally warm day. Wind in
the morning east, during the day south-west, now south-
east, and scarcely strong enough to rufBe the surface of
the water. Several fish on move, of which I rose five,
hooked four, and killed three of four pounds weight.
With one exception, they were caught by casting into
the ring produced by a rising fish and permitting the
fly to sink. Two were taken on a small Red and Teal;
the other on a Grouse and Claret."

There are, however, conditions under which even
the finest evening proves a disappointment to us. It
is said that fly-fishing may be successfully pursued by
the pale light of the moon. While there is every
reason to believe the statement true, it finds no support

THE WEATHER

177

in my own experi-
ence. On the water
on which much of
my little learning
was acquired, the
beams of M' Far-
lane's lantern are
absolutely fatal to
success No matter
how beautiful the
evening or how
bright has been the^
day it closes, fail-
ure, complete and
certain, attends
the angler's efforts
when the moon is in the sky. Under her baneful in-
fluence, the trout cling close to cover though flies in
myriads are flitting over the surface of the loch.

Tradition dies hard ; even the cat maintains a less
tenacious grasp of life. A stern-chase is proverbially
a long chase, and error, once well started on its course,
is very slowly overhauled by truth. Though fre-
quently refuted, the statement that in thunder trout
retire to the deepest depths of the water, still bobs

S<5^ ?***#''

178

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

up at intervals, as buoyantly as ever. It is entirely
without foundation ; I have seen trout rising freely
while the thunder rolled and the hVhtninor flashed all
round us.

CHAPTER VI

LOOSE STRANDS

in attaining popularity,
it is rarely seen in use.

'AN, whatever his politi-
cal persuasion, is at heart
conservative. He is slow
to adopt an innovation.
Its advantasres must be
obvious or his necessities
great ere he gives it a
ready welcome. Even
when its advantages are
obvious, he does not in-
variably receive it with
acclamation. Numerous
and patent as its merits
are, the eyed-fly is long
Except among dry-fly anglers,
I have but once encountered

a wet-fly fisher with whom it had found favour ; many

180 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

had never heard of it, and in others it aroused no
curiosity. The cause of their indifference is not easily
discovered ; the superiority of the eyed-fly is so decided
that one might reasonably expect the angler to respond
at once to its appeal. It effects a considerable economy
of time, and, incidentally, of time's equivalent, the end
of all our striving — money. It enables the angler to
change his fly with the utmost expedition ; in fifteen
seconds, according to Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell's cal-
culations. The estimate does not err on the side of
generosity. It may, in specially selected circumstances,
be possible to accomplish the change within the period
stated, but under many of the conditions to which the
practice of the angler's art exposes him, he will cer-
tainly require an extension of time.

Even Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell himself must occa-
sionally exceed his limit. The angler on board a boat
tossing wildly on a tumultuous sea sometimes measures
in minutes the time consumed in threading the gut
through the eye of a tiny hook. The task is not easy.
Planted firmly in his seat, he grips the fly between the
thumb and the index finger of his left hand, and, taking
the gut in his right, prepares to execute the delicate
manoeuvre. The process seems simple enough, and he
is just congratulating himself on the immediate success

LOOSE STRANDS 181

of his efforts, when the boat, apparently of malice
aforethought, gives an unexpected lurch, and his aim
is missed. He tries again, with a similar result ; he
probably tries a dozen times before his purpose seems
about to be achieved. But it is not only between the
cup and the lip that slips are frequent ; the gut has,
indeed, entered the eye of the hook, but, while its pas-
sage is still incomplete, the boat again swings on the
wave, and his labour is undone. The delay is irritating
to the most patient of men ; a man possessed by the
temper of Andrew Lang is " goaded to madness " be-
fore his object is attained. But, whatever the time
occupied in changing the eyed-fly, it is invariably less
than that we waste when dealing with the generally-
accepted lure.

The celerity with which it permits the angler to
effect a change of fly is not the sole advantage of the
eyed-hook. The weakening of the gut at its junction
with the fly is a frequent source of trouble and annoy-
ance to the fisherman, but with the eyed-fly, accident is
easily foreseen and obviated ; if there is any reason to
suspect the soundness of the gut to which it is attached,
it can be removed instantly and at trifling cost. When
the gut on which it is dressed has parted, there is a
period to the usefulness of the ordinary fly ; the eyed-

182 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

fly can be transferred again and again from one piece
of gut to another. The gut on which our smaller flies
are dressed is, as a rule, unnecessarily heavy ; in the
case of the eyed-fly, the angler may employ gut of any
weight he pleases.

It seems that to the "jam " knot, with which 1 have
been in the habit of attaching the fly to the cast, and in
which I have hitherto reposed implicit confidence, there
are such grave objections that Mr. Cholmondeley-Pen-
nell no longer recommends its use. It was devised by
him, but, since experience has revealed its many imper-
fections, he has successfully applied his mind to the in-
vention of a better, which he calls the "half-hitch " knot,
(p- and the formation of which is illustrated

^**==— ■•^^ in the lower of the two fig'ures in the
'y^ ^*x accompanying diagram. The upper

figure represents the knot he has dis-
carded. It has failed to justify his faith in it. He has
found that it is insecure, and that the point of the cast,
projecting at right angles from the head of the fly,
catches on the weeds and produces a disturbance in the
water. The gravity of the first of these defects will be
realized by every angler ; the last concerns the dry-fly
fisherman alone. The knot has never disappointed
me ; though I have employed it for years, I have never

LOOSE STRANDS 183

known it slip, and if it has displayed the other faults
ascribed to it, they have escaped my notice.

I confess to a preference for Mr. Cholmondeley-
Pennell's hook. The upward bend close to its ex-
tremity brings the shank in line with the cast, and lifts
the eye out of the way of the point of the hook — a
feature of the device which, though of little moment
in the case of large, is said to be vitally important in
the case of small hooks.

To the upturned eye I find it impossible to reconcile
myself Its appearance displeases me ; though, like
the gentleman who so cordially disliked the harmless
Dr. Fell, I am unable to say why. My reason is the
usual woman's reason, "just because." And it seems
to me a mechanical mistake. If the fly is to assume in
the water the position we desire, there should be no
weight of metal above the shank of the hook. I am,
however, prepared to admit that the objection is alto-
gether frivolous. It may be taken for granted that the
upturned eye is innocent of evil ; what influence it
might be supposed to exercise on the attitude of the
lure is fully counterbalanced by the dressing. It would
be less popular with the dry-fly angler did it prevent
his fly from sitting upright on the water.

The angler who employs the eyed-fly, and who de-

184 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

sires to be thoroughly equipped, should provide him-
'Self with Mr. Cholmondeley-Pennell 's Tweezers. He
will find them extremely useful for the purpose they
have been devised to serve. 1 have, however, had no
experience of their merits. I have never owned them.
The simpler my equipment, the happier I am. Since
the implements I do possess have an irritating trick of
disappearing just when their presence is most urgently
required, to add to their number would be to fill to over-
•flowing the cup of my sorrows, already full enough.

Is it possible to explain the different methods
adopted by the trout in rising to the natural fly ?
They are not based on chance or whim ; they own
a definite cause outside the volition of the trout, and
affecting, not an occasional, isolated fish, but a whole
body of fish simultaneously and equally. The circum-
stances which determine the character of the rise are
probably unvarying in their action. The same condi-
tions will invariably produce the same variety of rise.

Occasionally the fish take the fly with a loud splash,
not throwing themselves entirely from the water, but
freely exposing their caudal extremities as they turn to
go down again. Their behaviour resembles that of
saithe when feeding on herring sile near the surface of
the water. They are quick and hurried in their move-

LOOSE STRANDS 185

ments, and dash excitedly here and there as if eager to
utilize to the full, a passing opportunity of indulging in
the rare delight of a satisfying meal.

I have never seen the rise I refer to better exempli-
fied than on the occasion of a recent visit to a little
West Coast loch. The hour was early morning of a
day in June. The wind was easterly, high and very
cold, and accompanied by frequent, heavy showers of
rain. The surface of the water seethed with feeding
fish. To what they were rising I could not see, but
since their reception of the artificial fly was as hearty
as that they bestowed upon the natural, it was obvious
that they were not exclusively particular in their choice
of food. But their manner of taking the former dif-
fered entirely from that in which they were rising to
the latter, and the difference was probably due to a
difference in the conditions under which the two objects
were presented to them. I have seen the same variety
of rise in quite other circumstances — during the fore-
noon and in brilliant sunshine. The only features
common to both occasions were a breeze of wind, and,
in consequence, a rough and broken water. When the
trout are noisily splashing on the surface, are they oc-
cupied with flies buffeted about by the tumbling waves,
and is their lively excitement caused, not only by the
13

186

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

number, but by the quick movements of the objects of
their pursuit ?

In a calm, the trout appear to rise in quite another
fashion. They break the water with a swirl, but dis-
play no portion of their bodies above the surface. It
has been suggested that they are then feeding on sub-
merged flies, but, since the swirling rise occurs when
the fish are visibly taking insects on the surface, the
suggestion does not afford a satisfactory explanation of
the facts.

When the trout, on rising, occasion but the merest
dimpling of the water, it is probable that they are lying
just beneath the surface, and, having quietly secured a
fly, as quietly permit themselves to sink. They do not
turn about in their descent.

Now and then the trout,
in rising to the lure, leaps
quite out of the water. The
generally accepted explana-
tion of his action is uncon-
vincing. His intention, it is
said, is to submerge and
drown the fly. How does
the observer know ? Why,
the uninstructed are disposed

LOOSE STRANDS 187

to ask, should he do anything so obviously superfluous?
Since he finds the angler's artifice beneath the surface,
it should be patent, even to a fish, that his purpose
being already accomplished he may conserve his ener-
gies for future use. As there seems nothing to prevent
him from taking the fly at once, why should he delay
and, while needlessly endeavouring to drown it, give it
an opportunity of making its escape ? I am unable,
like some anglers, to penetrate the obscurity of his
piscine mind, but I fancy that he shuns dispensable
exertion with a good- will equal to our own. We are
usually inclined to magnify the trout's intelligence, but
in this particular instance we credit him with the pos-
session of a very feeble wit.

Two varieties of the rise are described by a recent
writer. In one, the trout rises with the object of taking
the fly from below, but the velocity of his approach
carries him beyond his goal and he involuntarily leaves
the water ; in the other, he deliberately springs into the
air with the intention of seizing the fly in his descent
The author referred to pretends to be able to dis-
tinofuish between the two. The trout which is borne
above the water by the impetus of his approach, drops
back at once ; the other, with the object of steadying
his aim, checks for a moment his aerial flight. Even

188 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

those who accept without question the most marvellous
tales of the trout's sagacity may hesitate to believe
him physically capable of maintaining, if but for the
fraction of a second, his position in the air. Surely
there is no occasion to seek a motive for his conduct.
It is entirely purposeless ; it is, I think, in every case
the necessary result of the speed at which he nears the
surface. The angler rarely secures a trout which, in
rising to the fly, leaps from the water. When he does,
it is generally hooked foul ; should the hook be found
in its mouth, it is more than likely that it was taken on
the rise. The trout, to be sure, does at times forsake
his native element with the object of capturing a fly,
but only when the brief excursion is essential to the
attainment of his aim. I have more than once seen a
trout spring at an insect flitting over the water, and I
have killed many on the upper bob-fly as it dangled in
the air an inch or two above the surface.

Our opportunities of observing the manner in which
the trout approaches the fly are comparatively infre-
quent. Mr. Hamish Stuart, who records many interest-
ing observations on the habits of that fish, describes
two incidents which came under his notice and serve to
elucidate the subject. My experience has been trifling
compared with his, but I have been, on several occa-

LOOSE STRANDS 189

sions, enabled to observe the trout's behaviour towards
the lure. Once, in water deep but crystal-clear, I had
the pleasure of watching a fish which, as unfortunately
it happened, was not to be mine. His conduct was
quite unlike that of either of the trout observed by
Mr. Stuart. He came at the fly swiftly — if without a
rush — and, having failed to secure it, turned and dis-
appeared as swiftly in the direction of the great stone
from beneath which he had emerged. Having missed
the object of his desire, he seemed to lose all interest
in it. He did not range about in the hope of retrieving
his failure ; he withdrew at once, and remained with-
drawn. The fly was over him again while he was still
in sight, but he refused to bestir himself a second time.
The approach of the fish was not always distin-
guished by haste. On another occasion, fishing in
brown but translucent water, I saw the vague, shadowy
form of a trout float slowly from the depths and as
slowly near my fly. While he was yet some distance
from the surface he paused, and, changing his direction,
circled leisurely around beneath the lure. He did not
detect my presence, and there was no suggestion of
suspicion in his bearing. His'hesitation seemed rather
the result of languid interest. Possibly he had, like the
Athenians, a weakness for novelties, and it may have

190 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

been curiosity alone that had drawn him from his lair.
If so, it was quickly gratified. A short scrutiny sufficed
him, and, mysteriously as he had entered it, he faded
out of sight. He was incorporeal as a vision, and his
reabsorption into the water from which he appeared to
have materialized was complete ; not even a grin re-
mained to mark his place.

The trout is proverbially quick of sight, and he
detects the presence of the fly from a great distance,
even when the fly and he are on or near the surface.
Fishing some time ago, I was aware of a trout busily en-
gaged in the shallow water by the margin of the stream.
With what he was occupied I could not see, but his
movements gave me the impression that he was picking
minute objects from off the bank. Almost the whole
length of his back was visible above the surface. I
cast towards him, though, as he was much beyond
reach, without the faintest hope of attracting his atten-
tion. My fly fell behind, and quite six feet short of
him, yet he saw it at once, and, rushing on it with
extraordinary velocity, was hooked before I had time
to recover from my surprise.

The time of the rise is uncertain. Cold, especially
early in the season, tends to delay it. Rarely it does
not occur at all, and throughout the day the water may

LOOSE STRANDS 191

remain unbroken by the movements of a fish. As a
rule, however, it may be looked for at some period of
the forenoon, though the angler need not abandon hope
should mid-day find him with an empty creel ; the
afternoon will sometimes yield him ample compensation
for the poverty of the earlier hours of the day. Nor,
however encouraging, is a rise an indispensable condi-
tion of his success. On the majority of waters, it is
true, his skill is exercised in vain unless the fish are
visibly indulging a desire for food ; but where the
means of life are sparingly supplied, his flies will
be readily accepted, present them when he may.
I have, from ten o'clock in the morning until five in
the afternoon, enjoyed uninterrupted sport although
during the entire time not half a dozen trout were
seen to rise.

It is not the hour of the rise alone that the angler
finds incalculable ; its extent and duration are equally
beyond conjecture. Occasionally it is sparse and soon
over, while at other times our ears are, for hours to-
gether, gladdened by the plashing murmur of surface-
feeding fish. The rise begins and ends abruptly ; it is
not heralded by single spies, and no loiterers remain
when it is past. On a loch of some extent and varying
depth it is often local ; all portions of the water are not

192 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

simultaneously affected. While one angler is in con-
stant occupation, another in a neighbouring bay is
tearfully bemoaning his unhappy lot.

From the beginning of June until the end of the
season the angler may anticipate an evening rise,
especially under the conditions I have already endea-
voured to describe. On some waters the evening rise
occurs the season through. Occasionally, indeed, the
sport to be obtained by day is insignificant ; where fish
are large and few, the angler will generally find, even
as early as April, the hour succeeding sunset the only
one of the twenty-four in which his pastime is pursued
with profit. Not until gloaming do the great, full-
nourished trout show themselves disposed to approach
the surface. So uncertain, however, is the humour of
the trout, that even the evening rise may disappoint us.

The phenomenon we know as rising short remains
a puzzle to the angler. On it, as on so many other
problems of our art, we are still divided. It manifests
itself in such a variety of circumstances that it is im
possible to ascribe it to a single cause. I have, like
others, suffered from it frequently, but have never
known it more painfully displayed than on the occa-
sion of a recent visit to a water holding trout so
numerous that it seldom fails the angler. It was early

LOOSE STRANDS 193

in June, and the water, stirred by a breeze of wind
from the west, shimmered in the Hght of a burning
sun. The trout were leaping over all the loch, and
rose to the artificial fly as eagerly as to the natural.
They rose to every cast, but were rarely touched.
The consistency with which they turned away from
the lure just as they seemed about to grasp it became
exasperating, and its effect on a temper at all times
impatient, was fatal. It encouraged hasty and inartful
casting and induced a tendency to strike wildly in the
hope of securing the fish whether they would or not.
Though the day was large in promise, the results were
meagre ; I hooked but one in seven or eight of the
fish that rose to me. It may have been that the bright
light revealed the artifice to the trout as they ap-
proached the surface, but the day was no brighter than
the day before had been, and on it they had shown
no irritating shyness of the fly. Short rising, besides,
is not confined to days of brilliant sunshine ; it is, at
times, as trying to the anglers patience when the
sky is over-cast and the light is dull and grey. It is
not unknown even in the dusk. According to Mr.
Smurthwaite, it is due to the employment of a fly not
merely of the wrong colour, but of the wrong tone.
Between the lure and the insect it simulates there exists

194

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

a difference patent to the eye
of the trout if to man's in-
ferior organ imperceptible as
that between two Chinamen.
When the trout are rising
short they refuse every fly
the angler offers them. On
the occasion referred to, I
changed my flies repeatedly

without the least effect ; but it may be, though I doubt
it, that, varied as these were, there were among them
none which did not prove offensive to the nice dis-
crimination of the fish. Even a change to the very
smallest flies in my possession failed to induce a change
in the situation.

The angler sometimes fancies that he can trace the
short rise to the superior education of the trout. It is
certain that on water rarely fished the artificial fly
arouses no suspicion ; I have, on a loch on which the
angle was cast for the first time, killed ninety per cent,
of the fish that rose to me. On the other hand, how-
ever, I have been equally successful on water, every
trout in which must have had experience of the dangers
lurking in the feathered lure.

We are inclined to blame ourselves when we fail

LOOSE STRANDS

195

to hook the fish that rise to us. Occasionally, when
fishing with too long a line, we may miss a trout we
should certainly secure were we able to strike with
greater celerity, but as a rule we have no cause for
self-reproach. It is not only the artificial fly that is
missed by the trout. I have watched them rising to
the natural fly, and have been surprised at the fre-
quency with which they failed in their aim, even
when that aim was an
object so large as the
Phryganea grandis.
Time and again I
have seen that insect
still occupying its
position on the sur-
face of the water after
the subsidence of the

commotion caused by a rising fish, and it will scarcely
be maintained that it was indebted for its salvation to
the fortunate possession of a displeasing tone of colour.
There seems to be a great difference of opinion as
to the frequency with which the natural fly is missed.
Mr. Smurthwaite affirms that not once in a thousand
times does the purpose of the trout miscarry ; Mr.
Hodgson declares that it seldom does anything else.

196 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

While neither is strictly accurate, the truth inclines, I
think, to Mr. Hodgson's side.

When the wet-fly fisher has seen the rise, the trout
has either secured the fly or missed it. He should,
therefore, strike at once, and in the direction in which
his rod is moving The trout detects the unreality
of the lure as soon as it is within his lips, and if the
angler delay until the pull is felt, he may delay too
long. While the line is slack he cannot tell with cer-
tainty whether the fly has been seized or not, and the
sooner he ascertains the fact the better. Strike with
what celerity he may, however, many of the fish he
raises will escape him unless he be as phenomenally
skilful as the Irish correspondent of The Fishing
Gazette, who kills every fish he sees rising and many
of those he only rises (sic) to himself What amazing
sport would have been mine had I brought to basket
all the trout I have seen break the surface of the water
during a long day's fishing on some well-stocked High-
land loch ! The angler need not strike violently, though
he may, perhaps, employ a little more force with small
fish than with large ; a heavy fish will hook himself by
his own weight. Whether he strike from the elbow or
from the wrist seems a matter of little moment, but, if
his line be of convenient length, the action of the latter

LOOSE STRANDS 197

joint will be found quite powerful enough to serve his
purpose. It has been said that the movement described
in striking- should be that made in turning the key in a
lock. The method is worse than useless. Since the
effect of simply turning the hand as in the action men-
tioned is to depress the point of the rod, it thwarts
rather than assists the angler in the execution of his
design.

Whether the angler strikes from the reel or not is a
detail determined by circumstances. If his line run
very smoothly, or he be the enviable possessor of a
calm and even temperament, he may safely keep a
finger on the line. Should he, however, lack self-
control, and in moments of excitement tend to lose
his head, he will be wise to leave the line alone and
employ a reel so stiff that it provides him with the
necessary check.

The act of striking is instinctive. The natural im-
pulse of the beginner is to throw up the point of his
rod at sight of a rise, and the action is always much too
energetic ; he strikes from the shoulder, and the result
is generally a catastrophe. If the fish is small, it is
sent hurtlino- througrh the air to fall somewhere in the
dim distance far beyond his ken ; if it is large, he
smashes the top-joint of his rod, or the cast snaps and

198 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

the trout escapes, trailing a yard or two of gut behind
it. When knowledge comes, however, wisdom does
not linger. With years and experience he acquires
command of his emotions and learns, in the school of
adversity, that the straightening of the line is sufficient
to fix the hook in all save the very smallest of fish. So
automatic becomes the lifting of the rod that the angler
is wholly unconscious of the act ; sometimes, indeed,
asserts and sincerely believes that he does not strike at
all. Once, discussing the subject with my gillie, I ex-
pressed the opinion that striking was quite unnecessary,
and gravely assured him that I never struck. His sole
response was a bland smile, in which I was obliged to
join, if a trifle less blandly, when, just at the moment, a
fish was missed and my flies were jerked suddenly into
the boat beside me.

As we know, the trout are unequally distributed
throughout the stream. They exhibit a decided pre-
ference for certain situations, and within these each
occupies a position of his own which he has acquired
and which he holds on the Carlylean principle that
might is right.

'^The good old rule
Sufficetli them, the simple plan.
That they should take who have the power.

And they should keep who can."

LOOSE STRANDS 199

No altruistic sentiment affects their intercourse ;
their philosophy is a frank Egoism. Self-interest,
naked and unashamed, is the law of the water. In the
struggle for place each, like Hal o' the Wynd, fights
for his own hand, and he yields to nothing save superior
force. The most powerful among them seizes the posi-
tion which gives him easiest access to the means of life,
and he defends it jealously against intrusion. He
tolerates no interference with his privileges. Of the
food borne on the stream he seizes all he can, and
leaves to others only what he fails to intercept ; if any-
thing escapes him it is because there is a limit to his
capacity for action, and, possibly, also to his appetite.
Behind him the smaller fish are ranged in order of size,
all as impatient as he of encroachment on the rights
they have usurped. Each is waiting a chance of pro-
motion, and when a vacancy occurs it is filled at once
by the next in succession. No delicate scruples deter
them from the empty seat ; before it has had time to
cool it is in the possession of a new tenant. Should
the angler kill a fish to-day, he will to-morrow find its
place in the possession of another.

The loch yields fewer opportunities than the river
for the study of the habits of the trout. The fish are
not within sight, and what knowledge of the subject we

200 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

possess is based on inference rather than on observa-
tion. Not all the causes which determine the trout's
position in the flowing water are in operation on the
loch, but there is reason to believe that in the latter, as
surely as in the former, he holds a fixed and definite
place — until, driven by the most compelling instinct of
his nature, he leaves it for the stream. How far he
wanders from it in search of food we do not know, but
it is, I think, certain that he returns to it when his
hunger has been appeased, and remains in it con-
tinuously while at rest. To every loch-fisher it must
have occurred to raise and miss a fish, and take him
later in the very same spot. It is, of course, possible
to contend, and the contention is difficult to meet, that
the fish caught on the second visit to the water is not
that originally seen. It is so easy to make a mistake ;
fish of a size are hard to distinguish, and although the
angler may be perfectly satisfied that the trout he has
just consigned to his creel is the very trout he failed to
hook when last he fished the loch, he will rarely be in a
position to produce convincing evidence that he is right.
I have, myself, taken from beneath a stone, two trout
so exactly alike that, had I not had both in actual pos-
session, I should have been absolutely sure they were
the same. On the other hand, I have killed a trout in

LOOSE STRANDS 201

circumstances which preclude all possibility of error. I
rose him on five different occasions with an interval of
several days between On each occasion the sun was
shining brightly, and in the colourless, pellucid water I
had an opportunity of seeing him distinctly as he ap-
proached the fly. He invariably rose in precisely the
same place. So kenspeckle was he and so convincing
the circumstances in which we foregathered, that it
seemed impossible to be mistaken in his identity ; cer-
tainly nothing will persuade me that the shapely three-
pound trout that succumbed to the seductions of a
small March Brown — in Augfust — was not the same
trout that, a month before, had taken and succeeded in
ejecting a little Red and Teal.

Whether the trout in the loch all lie with their heads
in the same direction, is a problem which, although it
seems of small importance, has long concerned the
anofler. It should not be difficult to solve ; examina-
tion of trout in an aquarium should settle it at once.
But even that appears to involve an unnecessary ex-
penditure of energy, for we may safely infer that in the
absence of a stream the trout dispose themselves in any
attitude they please.

In casting, the angler's object is to place his flies
lightly on the water at the very spot desired, and the
14

202 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

method by which he seeks to accomplish it is deter-
mined by the direction of the wind and by the presence
or absence of obstacles to the free play of his line.
When the wind is behind him and there is, in his
vicinity, nothing to interfere with his liberty of action,
he employs the "over-handed" cast. The opposition
of a head wind he overcomes by the use of the " down-
ward cut." When there is a high bank or similar ob-
struction behind him or close at his side, or he has the
misfortune to be placed between two other anglers on
board a boat, he is forced to resort to the *' steeple "
cast. Should he desire to present his flies to a fish
feedingr under overhanging boug^hs, he has recourse to
the "under-handed" cast.

From the task of describing the various methods in
which the fly is thrown I willingly abstain ; it is beset
with difficulties much too formidable for an unskilled
pen like mine. But I have another and a better
reason for abstention ; a reason candour compels me
to disclose. On the part of one who only by accident
succeeds in placing his lure within a foot of the spot
towards which it is his purpose to direct it, it would be
the merest impertinence to offer to others instruction in
the art of casting. Happily that art is one in which
written directions, even when lucidly conveyed, are

LOOSE STRANDS 203

comparatively valueless. The young angler knows
what he desires to do, and the difficulty of learning
how to do it he should not, even without tuition, find
insuperable. His native intelligence will soon enable
him to correct the errors certain to accompany his
initial efforts to cast a skilful line, and earnest applica-
tion will in time make him an adept.

Only on the water will he find the conditions
necessary to the perfection of his art, but he may
usefully begin his education on the lawn. But the
field — and the moment — of his operations must be
chosen with the greatest circumspection. Of the
spectacle of a grown man gravely brandishing his
wand above a waterless expanse of turf there is, to
the uninformed, but one interpretation, and, unless he
would risk his reputation for the possession of a sound
mind, he should shun the observation of his neighbours.
Should he, after practising, detect a subtle change in
the demeanour of his friends ; if, instead of greeting
him with their accustomed frankness, they hold them-
selves aloof, and regarding him askance, whisper mys-
teriously together, he may feel sure that his seclusion
was incomplete and that his sanity has become the theme
of general discussion. The writer is not facetious ; it
has happened to one earnest, if incautious, follower of

204 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

Walton to be currently reported "touched," because
he had been seen apparently endeavouring to raise
imagined trout among the daisies on his washing-green.
Should the novice lack self-confidence, he may pro-
cure the assistance of a friend on whose ability to teach
him he feels he can depend ; or if, with small capacity
for learning, he owns a superfluity of wealth, he may
undergo a course of professional instruction. He need
not put his trust in books ; they are unreliable as princes.
The information he will find in them is confusingly di-
verse, and often hard of comprehension. What, for
example, will he make of the advice to turn his face up
or down the river when it lists the wind to blow in that
direction? With much of that information, too, we
might readily dispense. For instruction in the pro-
cesses necessarily involved in casting, the beginner may
have reason to be grateful, but elaborate directions con-
cerning the grasp of the rod and other details not
essential to success are of no very obvious utility. It
may profit the learner to be told that in essaying a cast
he must be careful to lift his line well into the air, and
that in its backward swing his rod must not be carried
much beyond the vertical, but in an erudite discourse
on style he will discover little that is worth the knowing.
In the casting of the fly, style is as varied as in the

LOOSE STRANDS

205

wieldinor of the ofolf club, and it is doubtful if in a com-
pany of half a dozen expert anglers there will be found
two by whom the rod is handled in precisely similar
fashion. All achieve their purpose, though in achieving
it each displays a manner in some respects peculiarly
his own.

In the maze of conflicting theories the youthful
angler is in danger of becoming hopelessly perplexed.
We are taught by one instructor that casting involves
the employment of considerable force, while a second
begs us to remember that pressing
is as fatal to the success of the
angler as to the success of that
zealous tiller of the soil — the golfer.
Now we are informed that in its
downward swing the rod should be
checked when it makes with the
horizontal an angle of forty-five de-
grees, and again, that it should not
be brought to rest until it is parallel
with the surface of the water. One angler, in the
process of throwing the line, gradually reduces the
speed at which his rod is moving ; another stops his
rod entirely in its downward course, and, after a mo-
mentary pause, drops it to a horizontal position.

206 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

We are advised that, just as the line is about to
complete its forward swing, a check should be given to
its farther progress. If allowed to swing out to its full
extent it falls on the water with alarming splash. That
the unfortunate contingency may be averted, the angler
is instructed to grasp his rod more firmly, or draw it
slightly towards him, or, with his free hand, pull in a
short length of line. The most skilful handler of the
rod I have ever known did none of these things ; on
the contrary, he, when his rod had reached the lowest
point of its descent, gave it a curious little forward
thrust, as if with the object of preventing his line from
being abruptly checked as the cast approached com-
pletion. In my ignorance of mechanics, I am loth to
express an opinion on the subject, but it seems to me
that if the angler desired to bring about the very
accident he fears, he could not do better than follow
the advice I have quoted for his information.

Our teachers still entertain the "exploded idee"
that the angler will fail to accomplish a successful cast
if he begins the forward movement of his rod before the
line is streaming to its full extent behind him. The
mistake is so easily corrected that, even with the
knowledge of the vitality of error, one wonders at its
obstinate persistence.

LOOSE STRANDS 207

When Cotton advised the angler to fish " fine and
far ofif" he spoke with the knowledge of his time.
Could he forsake the shades and return to cast his
angle on the river he loved above all the rest, he would
probably find cause to reconsider his advice. It is in-
applicable to the conditions under which we now pursue
our sport. It is a relic of the days when down-stream
fishing was the common practice and the angler was
compelled to fish far off that he might escape the ob-
servation of his alert and quick-eyed quarry. Our art
has not greatly advanced since Cotton's time — if we
have increased the amount of " trumpery " in use — but
one of the few things we have learned is the unwisdom
of fishing far off when it is possible to fish near. The
ability to cast a long line the angler finds useful on
occasion, but he should reserve its exercise for special
circumstances only. It is not for every-day display.
The disadvantages of a long line are obvious; it cannot
be thrown with accuracy, and it prevents the angler
from striking quickly and effectively. But he must be
careful to avoid the opposite extreme. Though a short
line enables him to strike at once, it is, perhaps, even
more difficult to cast than a long one ; it follows the
rod much too smartly and strikes the water with a
violence certain to excite the apprehension of every

208 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

fish in his vicinity. The length of line he employs
with success is determined by the length of his rod and
by the height at which he is placed above the surface
of the water. The line he commands with ease when
fishing from a high bank passes beyond his control
when he descends to the level of the stream.

Whether the angler employs a split-cane or a green-
heart rod seems a matter of small importance, and, since
the difference between them is chiefly one of price, his
choice is probably determined by his purse. The split-
cane is the rod of the Plutocracy ; its cost places it
beyond the reach of the impecunious. But in this in-
stance the cheap is not necessarily the nasty ; a good
greenheart rod is as serviceable an implement as any
angler need desire. I have fished with one for many
years, and I cannot imagine that from the prohibitively
expensive split-cane I could have derived a greater
satisfaction. It was built for me by Mr. William
Robertson, of Glasgow, and has never given me
occasion for complaint. Its only fault, and one not
inherent in the rod itself but in its relation to the arm
that wields it, is that it is just a trifle heavy. It is
single-handed, but to employ it in comfort and with
some degree of skill I am compelled to bring my left
hand to the assistance of my right. Towards the end

LOOSE STRANDS 209

of a long day I sometimes wish it an ounce or two less
in weight, but now that it has grown familiar I would
not willingly discard it for another ; even for a former
favourite, in the use of which my hands, once deft
enough, have completely lost their cunning.

I write of my rod as "it," but the employment of
the singular number is, perhaps, not wholly justified.
It involves an interesting problem for the casuist.
Since the rod has been evilly entreated and repeatedly
renewed in all its parts — with the exception of the reel-
fittings — it becomes a nice question whether it is still
that originally constructed by the maker. Have I been
in continuous possession of the same rod, or have I
within these years owned more than one ? As, through
all its various mutations, its character has undergone
no change, I am disposed to think of it as having had
a life of unbroken continuity.

The act of casting demands no great expenditure
of energy, but when repeated many times a day it
becomes fatiguing. The angler, therefore, should
avoid a rod he cannot wield with ease, and in the use
of which his endurance may be overtaxed. He may
not, in any circumstances, hope to escape entirely the
suffering which inevitably follows prolonged or unusual
exertion, but he will ache much less acutely if he

210 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

employ a rod the management of which is well within
his stren(jth. But to obtain lightness he need not
sacrifice efficiency. Whatever the weight of the rod,
it should be moderately stiff; if supple and pliant it
will prove a disappointment. It will be found im-
possible to cast with it against the wind, and even in a
favourable wind, its elasticity will seriously interfere
with the success of the angler's efforts to control the
direction of his line. It is, however, in playing a fish
that its defects are most apparent. It places the
angler in an ignominious position ; he does not control
the trout ; it takes charge of him and, for a time, deals
with him at its pleasure. While it is occasionally
necessary that in its first wild dash for liberty, the
trout should have its way, the sooner it is subdued to
the will of its captor the better. To continue trifling
with it long after it should be within the net is to
waste time. The angler never feels more ridiculous
than when being played with by a heavy fish on a
feeble rod, and the consciousness that he is sustaining
a minor part in the amusing comedy, is not conducive
to his self-content.

I was induced, lately, to try a rod some two feet
shorter and several ounces lighter than my own, but in
my unaccustomed hands, it proved a futile weapon.

LOOSE STRANDS 211

The angler to whom it belonged, though a tyro,
handled it with much dexterity, but to me it was
utterly refractory ; my utmost efforts, aided by a fol-
lowing wind, failed to extend the line along the water,
and time and again the flies fell in a tangled heap just
without the boat we occupied. As I had no great
desire to overcome the difficulties presented by its
novelty, I did not persevere. Though, since its flexi-
bility compelled the angler to treat them tenderly,
relatively few fish escaped it, the delay attending their
subjection would, when the water seethed around us,
have been an ordeal too painfully trying to my
patience. I preferred my own more powerful rod
which, if, in my haste, it did cost me an occasional
trout, enabled me to fill the basket with much greater
expedition. To some anglers the mere playing of a
trout is not completely satisfying.

When the trout, though rising freely to the natural
fly, regard with indifference the counterfeits presented
to them by the angler, there may be wisdom in giving
them an opportunity of considering others^ — larger or
smaller or of a different variety. In the absence of
rising fish, however, the angler will derive no advan-
tage from a change of lure. If that on his cast fails to
prove enticing, he has in his possession none likely to

212 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

succeed. Until moved by a desire for surface food,
the trout is not to be drawn from the depths of the
water by any artificial fly no matter how seductive.
It does occasionally happen that the substitution of a
fresh cast for that the angler has been fruitlessly
employing is followed immediately by a stir among the
fish, but the relation between the two is not necessarily
that of cause and effect ; on the contrary, they may be
entirely unrelated and their concurrence accidental.
The angler's tardy success is not due to the superior
fascination of the new fly, but to the fact that he has,
by the merest chance, discarded the old at a moment
coincident with the beginning of a rise. The trout
he takes would have been taken in any case; they
became disposed to feed, and would have accepted the
ineffective flies just as readily as those to which they
have succumbed. Things are seldom what they seem,
and the cautious angler does not jump to a conclusion ;
he is slow to assume that the obvious is certainly
the true.

The practice of staining gut might be discontinued
without prejudice to the success of the angler. Since
the material of which the cast consists is — when good —
transparent and colourless, it is probably more gener-
ally useful in its natural condition than when coloured

LOOSE STRANDS 213

by art. Certainly no one colour will render it a whit
more valuable than it is as it comes from the hands of
the manufacturer. If, however, the angler will have it
disguised he should provide himself with a supply
stained in various hues to suit the varied circumstances
in which he means to employ it. When, for instance,
it is his intention to fish Loch Leven, he should have
it dyed a delicate glaucous-green, but when his purpose
is to cast a fly on the dark waters of a Highland loch,
it should be coloured pale brown or yellow.

There may be reason in staining gut green or
brown, since the trout, if he takes note of it at all, may
regard it as a piece of stray vegetable matter, but what
was in the mind of the angler who first dyed it blue ?
Did he fancy that he was assimilating its colour to that
of the water, or was he under the— in this climate —
erroneous impression that the fish see it against an
azure sky ?

The angler may " work " his flies, or he may draw
them slowly towards him with uninterrupted motion,
or, when fishing up-stream, he may submit them en-
tirely to the influence of the current. It is widely
believed that when the lure is moved through the
water in a series of short jerks the alternate opening
and closing of the hackle gives it a deceptive appear-

214

A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER

ance of life and imparts to it a greater fascination.
There is a reasonableness about the belief that com-
mends it to one's acceptance, but whether in actual
practice the working of the fly favourably affects the
angler's basket is by no means certain ; I have never
been able to persuade myself that it increased the
weight of mine. Stewart, one of the most successful
of wet-fly fishers, advocates the use of a soft hackle in
the dressing of the lure, because, he says, "the water
agitates the feathers and gives them a more life-like
appearance," but, as he also declares that the trout take
the artificial for a dead fly or a fly helplessly caught in
the stream, and that therefore it is absurd of the angler
to attempt by any motion of his hand to impart to his
lures the aspect of vitality, his opinions, like the gods,
are hard to reconcile.

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THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY