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The Whole Outfit

Caught On The Fly

Fugitive Notes Of Sport And
Other Things

Printed for the writer by
THE BRITTON PRINTING COMPANY
Cleveland, Ohio
1908

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ac \GIBHARY of CONGRESS) —
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One hundred and twenty copies

of this book have been printed of
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a o > = i ee ie <a : ete

Presented to

Copyrighted, 1908
By Arthur St. John Newberry

These trifling sketches are
dedicated to

PEHEGDORE ROOSEVELT

as a sincere but painfully inadequate expression
of the honor in which he is held

by the writer

Contents

PAGE
NINE te ee ET ee Bet ast, ag ka wees 1
MME IITICE TNE? VV MUG sie sts ttle kina fans hie cial diabetes gills Bee
SeiressiONs OF aval CNAETIOOtA 2s sale ds oe ee eh eels oes i foal 3°)
mrp SERN ts AW Seek ou cens ava; cin ule ok Kee nema Haye 21—°28
Ct ii © GIOLAUG is. Gale. seed ais gs a's le ain pel h see 29-51
TEU TENG ric hs ante ol t eh alk « lepers 's ohbianae SRR aE 5a 60
einer ANA GICINIG s/3.<9 zie, ass, oo es dea wk es 8 kn ot 61- 62
renee rie POUL ETC AMY cS che wv aiciaty ks 2c. Sk ea ee vce wor edgldiertdee o> ae
ree ee eran Sth te ne che we cee cae oy oo eee te 7b= 81
RC MNSRe ONTSIONIS wt chs as SE Pik © hikes os oe bbe eee 83-97
ae aereiget re AERP ES NEW. viv che Pek cs ok pa weap pede 99-118
Se a OS SST Tr | en re eer 119-122
ee Ne eae INU PUMA PEN 2 ly ies secs utes mw a?s-d ening Sly eens 125-132
EL SETAE 2 Sse ee een SoA AO es Ce a aa 13838-1385
NC tts tre a, Wak, elice gia hs whe, kal kw A Bg lee 137-1438
REE ee WEE ied > oat cuales (cP AA cao whan oo MAN Bee 145-149
pra tre COE MET ELSI. yo sheicie tae vie eS. bse KA ew ee 151-154
EES NS Rl ae ee, Sa ee eee pea a 155-165
DIE ACR cu Ch othe Rtn Lh ah wh oa cis REA he 167-177
Ser ere aT EOS oe. Ar: hrc el Pr teaare a 8 3) cob che Bodegas 179-184
Petes tenon thee lyitiar see ecw ates 4). ha @oe Shae aes 185-189
Metta Dine Crane Po. oe sic. eka ork ot aes. thor 191-202
Bie RTI BEY cnc. dee wich. dik ACs oe cots week ale Vat erge 303-212
PeMeTR CO INEV GREEDY <. .(oc ¢ 44, s «Shela fica gran’ 6, of ale eee 213-243
RSE MMRRNRER TS ACA TOLITRG S <0 5 case kn) o aal dg easel os OEP gis Ro ae tae 245-252
CET PM ASSAD. PRU ede aK PL Sele lad ea eons 253-280
Pre eMC UN CNG MNEAT | aie C54." HRY cae iy wie ge elele Mee wets 281-284
Sayed ial Site POSTHIMEE. 4 Gay aioe h o's edteres Vaceind Bea GR one CaF rear 287-298
Biotin h REASUTORMICITESS 2 Wie) Sistan Vide Wihe shines bteb SN Rae s 299-300

REG EOR IGS: st) Anak ois doc creas te LS as veOEMS00

Pictures

PAGE
Prosbispiece—— Lhe WHOL OUT 806). Sea ee ce el hee oe Title
UE PESTS FRISIAN et a a ee ee Te ED 5
[OSE ESYE OTE chs SNE ane SRO a eM i So 9
RN RAT L Ety he Ain CENA che ala a aie eat Mio state eagle ge, wh Lt
Siterem ee PAUSE eee ee ID Teta hs ee Ye a vn Coie oa wee whee, ol ale eine are 15
RE tee CLO Me Ls MAP eal Soe 3 Sigg «ah 8. wile ou 8 way hang g Vaheabie 8 i
vA eer he ARMA IIT RARE A ERE A iF nce S aca 4/2 mG biog etal geetny Sega 23
SNe eta 1 Ke en one es OPP MY NT dln, eomre saad os Abonshee, of xh Mein 27
tat NEM. Sc Geta oe PTE re tes cts fore Cen a. Sidon) Saya dg GaN De Dees See 31
CEOETIAT I at be Angee ats 22 (1 a ee 39
SCI EE MLE MOOSE Aer cP MRP Ll Ase aly Slt ale we aiob sha, Sek cul chore oes 45
ECE NG OSC ae carte Dre aay che EE oe a tebe Car one OP aP ape wilaaathe oth aeons 55
ESAT Vg Bo RV 1 I os ee rE eA oe YP 65
Photograph by C. C. Bolton.
Peete nbn Eisen TOR at cr. eee ehalt aside 0% ah og Hote RET 67
Photograph by C. C. Bolton.
Darras Oe IR Tres ay nes nc ISIE gy Shs cow ns os ola Sualdiage a evel 71
Photograph by C. C. Bolton.
Eoin ip he el iene COME on Bayi’ Pe eae eg il aa jain. a + psk ov eve ee din wa vores UE
Photograph by S. B. Newberry.
Reet AUOC Ca Tea LUO eS tA eae x eps Net bale Sin, eae EA 79
Photograph by 8S. B. Newberry.
ee RRs Wag. SIN A ye cero ata aN ery ale wate anea Matai @ateys aaa 85
SR MSE Raat PME irate te 1 MCs fale WV Gee tah ha. os Na Wehbe wae Seuehgua ean 93
Psy VS yoo EV. NE GA ee eae Se ae ee a eR a iok e aae 101
PERRO ee es oot Ss Pgh aiuls eRe Yost ahaha eG yw ike hey RNA ee 103
setoe NCU OSCr cd hee ans Weta cn fob 'a. te» ellie avec elietsialiep aiePacalg er ba oh 107
sae Dare hee apa aM Castes be os et sae suaee als tate ala = Soa erated 109
CURT ACTVIS | E 0a R sk Suet i A e gaear Sraror ena Sia ight, Sethe 113
ernip cae op ag PN nto ad ty agri ene 4 Aen ES 115
(CEpyofophin siroig Wel yi(ai io La eee oa PPPOE Lads ilo eee Me te ee 123

OO Mer ie VEIVEb=— oie A fide scale aes Sue the Hats «pe eee tea to lotere 127

Pictures—Continued

PAGE
Caribou; Velveeta sei 70 2. ob cag ts tere Reet ee Othe eee 131
Néwtoundland*G vider yan. ow. crs. hice cen fee DASA. cc ene 139
Penis amar Uptielesios wes tc kes ivin:> Sooke, Soot is OS gaat: se eh Rees rn ae 141
Rontinalis==Mamistee a eit Sin. AGES SRP eG Ae eek ote een 147
ANBigvPulee GOL, AHR OTR Os OR ee ee er 153

Photograph by 8S. B. Newberry.

Sea\(routand Brooke routes sss a. bee pei! teehee ee eee 157
Sea. TroutiamdGrilgew. pie ew tte cide de tee ots Se ee 163
Lake and speckled; Trout... 3. ue We eta he ee) 2 oe 187
Blacktail (Bincks 2) ge lets) ch. ast cosh thes, ap rhan ecte iy Alta 195
Wihitetaih BR wich 8. ee vege o\). = Seat ee ee & eee ee 199
AV Groupetiois. si. eeo 6 St Ae oteetite te O eee a eee 205
Fheysanis (Culbensisie. «aiden kes cesta bhaiers dis Heleke BARI We tid case a ee 209
CatchyatsAlicatordinah tiie asnhhs dae oh. Ae. ee cee ee 215
AvShagk=—Freel. ates a. otaty edi oe + tel eee: Oe 219
As Shark Hookedy:. fs tiene ea ooreiion os lag eee ae ace ee 225
Av Shark=-Landeds)stacike Maids OR sheet ahs Be eae ge ae 231
Spearihe Crayfishy. eigen Bogehe. jak cha eee. cers eee ie 237
Bull: Moose=-1 }:4 4 gho'e5 eae. sel G ies tlae 2 ee eek Ge 249
Our Housenpig! . wade be Hlth gta ek a ae 255
From Fert Fincastle: in aan: 3ek ess eee). cote AB, 257
On Salt Key ti 49050 ee NOeIee LUSe Pech) ee a 259
Three Kingfish; pd 1 ogee pe ee yoihuap a: che Miia 265
Amberjackand Kinptishoial 387 Galas 1.codedens 22g - one 273
Barracudal sith ty: desiates ake eee ee 1 elt. dt ey St ee a 277
BulluMoose==2).. sa.) Gin. em foe dteeeds oaitie. 1.) 5 ee 285
Moutitain; Sheep—iln). jb vier ..hete Goede alee ot 8 aa 291
Mountain Sheep=52)),. ie nadine. ee. Jat. tae ee RE: Qo ee 295
Mountain Sheep—3e 04. .4.- Mila ee Ao Set 297
Fifty. Pound Kingfish. <2) Gilt. ine o>, validly, Se © ee Re 301
Whitetail WBiackese i A err Sh ce cn DR ghd v9.5 year ae oe arr 305

;

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Preamble

ANY of the following notes have appeared from time to
time in ‘Forest and Stream,’’ and I am indebted to that
journal for permission to reproduce them. In order to

cover more fully the ground actually traversed, most of the published
sketches have been expanded, and a number of new chapters have
been added.

The pictures are from photographs by the writer (though the
bulb has often been squeezed by a proxy), except where credit has
been given to others. The frequent appearance of his own image
should be ascribed to a desire for a gauge of size, for comparison,
and not to personal vanity. All of these photographs are repro-
duced without retouching or alteration of any kind. The game and
fish are personal trophies, unless otherwise stated, and the yardstick
appearing with some of the heads will show approximate dimensions.

These notes cover a period of fifteen years or more, during
which length of time almost any one must learn something, so my
conclusions have doubtless been modified from time to time. ‘This
will account for any contradictions or inconsistencies which may
appear in these pages.

I have had rather more outdoor life and sport than most of the
toilers in the great workshop called the United States, so my modest
experiences may be interesting and helpful to some of the less lucky
in this respect. If this should not prove to be the case it has at
least been pleasant to recall them and not bad fun to write them
out. What is stated as fact is scrupulously accurate, but my
opinions are of course of uncertain value. ;

Cleveland, May Ist, 1908.

The Charm Of The Wild

IH AT is the charm of the wild; that
deep seated and powerful craving
which makes us willing and eager to
surrender comforts and refinements,
that in town seem indispensable, to
wear rough clothes, eat coarse food
roma atin: plate. ‘endure cold, heat,
storm, privation and fatigue; work
day after day, for nothing, harder than we ever do for
pay; delight in it all and long to get back to it again
and again?

First, it is different. How tired we all get of our
every-day surroundings, of skyscrapers, elevators and
trolley cars, of paved streets, plumbers and newspapers,
of stenographers and bills. In camp all these vanish
trom memory as if they never had been, and life is
made over again with impressions and purposes, all
new and fresh, that restore our exhausted beings as a
change of crop restores worn out land.

Then it is simple. Modern life has grown intol-
erably complex, burdened with a multitude of artificial
needs, and we toil day and night for Lowell’s “cap and
bells.” How sweet it is to come down to the strict
necessary and cease the never ending struggle for things
of no real importance.

\f
4)

THE CHARM OF THE WILD

Last and greatest, it is free. Civilized man is
fenced in and out by countless barriers of custom and
habit, tied by conventional bonds stronger, tighter and
harder to break than those of the civil, criminal or
moral law. In the wilds these fetters drop off and man
concerns himself with realities and lets appearances
go. How good it is to go for a month without a look-
ing glass, to wear clothes only for warmth, to sit or lie
when and where you please, without caring for the
crease of your trousers or the hang of your coat, to take
food for hunger and rest for fatigue, want what you
really need and have it, do what you want to, where
you want to and when you want to. dh! Que c'est beau
d’etre libre! How good it 1s to be free.

Young Bull Moose—1

Impressions Of A Tenderfoot
Forest and Stream, Dec. 8, 1894.

“TENDERFOOT” I understand to
be one born in the East and who for
the first time treads the slopes of the
Rocky Mountains. I believe that
mere transit on a through express, or
even a stay at Colorado Springs or
Manitou, does not relieve one of the
contemptuous appellation. To lose
this epithet one born east of, say Kansas City, must
leave the paths and the garb in which he has been wont
to walk, and immerse himself in the vast spaces of the
West. It does not seem to matter whether he mines,
ranches, fishes or hunts big game, but personal ex-
perience of ranges, mesas, gulches, sage brush, buttes
and bronchos 1s essential.

Having been born in the State which has suc-
ceeded Virginia in bearing the title of “Mother of
Presidents,” and to which the beautiful but unsatis-
factory buckeye has given its common name, I had only
seen the great West during various business errands,
generally connected with the fruitless attempt to make
the sanguine children of the setting sun carry out con-
tracts to repay Eastern capital, or to find why similar

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

capital, like some of the rivers that flow from the east-
ern slope of the Rockies, seemed to sink into the ground
and be lost, doubtless fertilizing and refreshing the im-
mediate course of flow but never reaching the sea-
board. In this happy summer however, being tem-
porarily free from such cares, | was invited to join a
party to hunt and fish in the Elk Head Mountains,
which lie in the northwestern corner of Colorado, and
now can proudly boast a familiarity with many things
and scenes which are peculiar to the boundless West.
Whether the obnoxious name has really left me is still
not a certainty, but as two big bull elk fell to my rifle,
while my acclimated companions failed to get a single
one, they seemed to believe that I was gaining at least
a slight familiarity with the country.

First on the list of my novel impressions comes
acquaintance with the broncho. He is of mixed de-
scent, on one side coming from the mustang and on the
other from the eastern horse, but the proportions of
blood must vary very greatly; still the type is distinct.
He is generally small, perhaps averaging about eight
hundred pounds, and seems to have no distinctive color
or marking. Ordinarily he is a sleepy and biddable
beast, who travels with his head down and exerts only
as much effort as is absolutely necessary; but this gen-
tleness and quiet simply give an opportunity for the
storage of energy, and, on proper stimulus, this calm

INQ suyAvIG

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

and passive animal expends his accumulated force with
terrific and tumultuous effects.

Among our pack animals was a little pot-bellied
brown horse who was one day plodding along under a
pack of two hundred pounds, and seemed half asleep.
Suddenly, for no reason that I could see, he concluded
to get his pack off. Down went his head; up went his
back; and a fine exhibition of genuine buck-jumping
was begun without notice. When this did not loosen
the well-tied squaw-hitch, he seemed to go absolutely
mad. Screaming like a steam whistle he tore at the
pack with his teeth, dashed against trees, reared,
plunged and rolled, until finally the pack fell from
him. Then, his aim being accomplished, a perfect
calm succeeded, and no objection was made to the re-
placing of the pack or to carrying it afterward.

The broncho is a creature of the wilds, and is equal
to any difficulty which they present. On my first day
we rode forty miles over a range, with no road or path
beyond an occasional game trail. We went through
spruce forests, over fallen timber, up steep and stony
mountain sides and down again, and the orders to me
were: “Leave your rein loose and let your horse go.”
I followed these instructions literally, although when
my broncho was descending slopes of about forty-five
degrees, and jumping over big logs on the down grade,
it seemed reasonably certain that we were both going

Young Bull Elk —7

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

to everlasting smash, and one escape did not seem to
furnish any reason why the next peril should be safely
passed. On such a slope I remember coming to a
couple of fallen trees lying across each other, perhaps
two feet high on the upper side and four or five on the
lower. My black carefully examined the obstacle, and
then coolly leaped it, alighted in a sitting position, slid
about ten feet, brought up and went calmly on. Look-
ing back I saw my brother’s horse go through precisely
the same performance, and as he leaped the pair
seemed to be going directly into eternity.

Nearly all our hunting was done from the saddle,
in spite of the tremendously rough nature of the coun-
try. Several of the horses were the perfection of shoot-
ing ponies, and seemed to actually hold their breath
when the rifle was lifted for a shot. All of them would
stand, provided the long reins were thrown down and
allowed to hang, and it was a matter of only a moment
to dismount. When game was known to be near we
generally left our horses and hunted on foot, returning
to them after success or failure.

Second only in force and novelty to the broncho
impression was that of the country where we camped.
To reach it we had come eighty miles by stage, passing
through a barren land, where only the immediate
valleys of the rivers were fertile, and had ridden forty
miles, all the latter being through sagebrush except

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

while actually crossing the ridges, until we were within
six miles of camp. There we came to the edge of the
so-called “Park country,” a region heavily timbered
with magnificent spruces, the forest being frequently
divided by open glades, varying from fifty feet to a
mile or more in width, covered with grass and flowers
and dotted with single trees or small clumps of timber.
It was a country of running brooks and singing birds,
and especially fitted for game of all kinds. Out of it
rose magnificent mountain peaks of purple-brown trap,
giving grandeur to its beauty. The whole region
seemed to have been laid out by a most skillful land-
scape gardener, on a colossal scale and regardless of
expense, and had an air of finish that seemed incredible
in an absolute wilderness, forty miles from anywhere.
None of this timbered country can be less than nine
thousand feet above the sea, and its fertility, as con-
trasted with the barrenness of the lower country, is
doubtless caused by the accumulation of snow upon the
mountains, whose gradual melting keeps only the up-
per levels moist.

The mule deer (Cervus macrotis) abounds in this
park country, and we rarely saw less than thirty in any
one day. There seemed to be two distinct varieties,
differing decidedly in shape and color.: Among the
glades around our camp we found slender, long-limbed
bucks, decidedly light brown in color, and with the

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

face a nearly uniform mouse gray. In the scrub oak
near the edge of the desert the deer were much larger,
shorter and thicker, lighter and grayer in color, and
with a very light gray patch, almost white, across the
face. Our guides made a distinction between the gray
bucks and the “bald-faced” bucks, and insisted that the
two types always kept at different levels, as we found
them.

Where elk can be found, however, one thinks but
little of deer, and we were chiefly in pursuit of the
greater and rarer game. For the first week after reach-
ing camp, which was early in September, they could
only be found in the dense spruce forest close to the
mountain peaks. Later they seemed to travel more,
and the sound of their trumpet became not uncommon.
When the bull is young, and the call is heard at a dis-
tance, it sounds singularly like a human whistle; heard
closer at hand, or from an older animal, the note is
more harsh and strident. The old bulls bellow in deep
tones not very unlike those of a domestic bull. For-
tune sent me the first shot at an adult male, and re-
warded it with a handsome twelve-point head, with
rather light antlers—the animal being still young. My
great prize came on the last day’s hunt.

Two of us had crossed the ridge and were in the
aspen timber about two miles from camp, when we
heard a young bull call at a considerable distance down

Young Bull Elk—2

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

the mountain. Leaving our horses we started toward
the sound on foot, but after walking a mile or more we
heard the call again on our left and high up the slope.
We then separated, my brother keeping on, and I went
back toward the horses, and had nearly reached them
when suddenly an elk appeared on my right, three
hundred yards up the hill. He was strolling slowly,
parallel with my own course, and occasionally taking
a bite of grass. Instantly I started toward him, keep-
ing behind trees as well as possible, and running as fast
as a defective lung, an elevation of ten thousand feet,
and a pretty steep hill would permit. While running
I saw that this bull was followed by other elk, march-
ing slowly in single file and appearing one by one from
the thick timber. Knowing that the large bull is usu-
ally at the rear end of a procession of this kind, and
having already a better head than the first one had, i
determined to wait and take my chance of a big fellow,
so, entirely out of breath and tremendously excited,
i dropped behind a rock about a hundred and fifty
yards from the line and waited. Eight cows, a calf and
another young bull passed me one by one, and at last a
mighty head bearing a huge pair of antlers appeared
between the aspen trunks, and in a moment the mon-
arch of the herd stepped into a little glade before me
and strolled slowly across it. As his head appeared I
sighted just in front of it, and when the ivory bead of

EEE

Blacktail Buck—z1

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

the Lyman sight showed fairly back of the shoulder
pulled the trigger. The bull did not even start or
flinch. Then I forgot my breathlessness, my excite-
ment and everything else but that elk. In an instant a
second cartridge was in place, a steady aim taken, and
at the shot the great bull dropped to his knees, but rose
at once and continued his steady walk. So he kept on
walking and I kept on shooting until the aspens on the
other side of the glade concealed him. Then I dropped
on the rock and sat and gasped from excitement and ex-
ertion together for at least ten minutes.

When breath came back I walked slowly up the
hill to the point of his vanishing, and only a few yards
beyond found the great elk stone dead and with four
bullets clean through him. The orifice of exit was
scarcely larger than that of entrance, and the balls had
evidently lost but little velocity in passing through
nearly two feet of flesh and bone, showing the great
power of the .45-g0-300 cartridge.

We had no means of weighing or exactly measur-
ing this animal, but estimated his weight at one thou-
sand pounds, or over, his height at the withers over five
feet and the weight of his head and horns at about sev-
enty-five pounds. The horns were very long and re-
markably heavy, having the usual twelve regular
points, and three large and four small reversed points,
so that he could properly be called a nineteen-point

—_—

a ,

IMPRESSIONS OF A TENDERFOOT

head. Having a kodak in camp I was able to get a
good photograph of “the entire outfit,’ which Western
expression corresponds strictly to the Yankee “the
whole kit and caboodle.”

Munising Bay

JN THE south coast of Lake Superior,
forty miles east of Marquette and
just west of the famous ‘Pictured
Rocks,” the shore curves in sharply
making a deep and broad harbor,
across the mouth of which lies Grand
Island. ‘The bay is almost completely
landlocked, gives shelter from all
anil and is well known as a refuge for vessels from
Lake Sapcrior's gales. In size, outline of shores and
character of vegetation on them, it singularly resembles
an Adirondack lake, and is as beautiful as any of them,
peerless Placid perhaps excepted.

Back in the fifties the charcoal iron industry flour-
ished here and quite a town sprang up on the east side;
but the industry ceased to be profitable, the furnaces
were abandoned, the houses deserted one by one, and
for over thirty years no one has lived there but a few
fishermen and the keeper of the government light.
Within the last year, however, parties owning large
tracts of timber lands have determined to develop their
resources; a railroad has been organized and is under
construction; large tanneries, stave and hoop mills, and
other manufactories are being erected; docks, switches,
a bank, stores and dwellings are rapidly taking shape;

MUNISING BAY

a daily paper has been established, a city organized,
and the vigorous tide of life has invaded this once
peaceful region. [I suppose all this is in the line of
progress, and it certainly is for the good of the land
owners, but it is now only a question of time when
much of the peculiar charm must vanish, never to re-
turn.

The Anna River Club, an organization largely
composed of Marquette gentlemen, has been estab-
lished for several years at the south end of the bay, just
where the little Anna River joins it, and has built a
cosy and comfortable log house for their accommoda-
tion and that of the happy mortals who are invited to
partake of their well-known hospitality and share their
peculiar privileges. It was my good fortune to be one
of those favored individuals on the invitation of Mr.
Fayette Brown, of Cleveland, well known as a
thorough business man, expert fisherman and natural-
ist and the best of good fellows, and on one of the
golden days of early September of last year I began
an experience not soon to be forgotten.

The bay is bordered by a belt of shallow water,
exquisitely clear and clean, and deepens very gradually
for about seventy-five yards from shore, where it is ten
or twelve feet to the bottom. Thence it plunges off very
rapidly, reaching a depth of fifty to one hundred feet
within a few rods. Along this ridge or shoulder flour-

Bull Elk—2

MUNISING BAY

ishes a growth of water weeds, rising nearly to the sur-
face and broken into clumps, promontories and de-
pressions in and around which the trout lie. The fish-
erman, anchoring his boat according to the direction
of the wind on one side or the other of the belt of
weeds, lets it drift within good casting distance and
then uses his fly or bait with perfect convenience.

A favorite and fatal method of fishing is to use
rather a large hook, well covered with angle worms and
with a split shot at the base, make a long cast with a
strong fly-rod and then gradually draw in the line
through the rings. When the line tightens a strike is
apt to develop a very big trout and considerable sport
will ensue before he gets near the landing net. Al-
though a fly-fisherman by pre-disposition and inheri-
tance it seemed to me best to follow the local customs;
but, after having messed with worms, strained my rod
and nearly put a hook through my ear, I determined to
catch those trout on the fly or go without. The hated
worms and bullet came off, a leader rigged with a
coachman, Montreal and Parmacheene on No. 4 hooks
took its place, and I began diligent work. Several
spots were tried without success, but finally, near the
mouth of the little river, a place was found where the
weeds were much broken into clumps and there I took
my first trout on the fly. After this I always began
fishing at this point and moved only when nothing de-

MUNISING BAY

veloped, and this was not uncommon, for these trout
were especially freaky and uncertain in their tastes.
Many a time I have cast diligently for hours without
a rise while the surface around me showed no sign.
Suddenly there would be a great splash as a two-
pounder left the water close by and then for an hour
fish would rise all about me, while never a one would
touch the fly. But patient waiting and work, such as
my old friend Fuller of Meacham Lake calls “stick-
to-it-iveness,” would always win in the end, and when
success came it was always abundant.

By far the most successful fly, though I tried about
every usual pattern, was the plain coachman. This
would be selected from the cast by fully four fish out
of five, and they generally seemed to prefer the upper
dropper of my three flies, I suppose because this fly was
more on the surface and moved most naturally. When
trout would not come to the surface at all I sometimes
caught them by making a long cast, letting the flies sink
quite deeply, and then very slowly and jerkily reeling
them in. I saw almost no small fish, rarely taking one
of less than a pound, while the usual size was rather
larger, and fish of two or three pounds, or even more,
are common. They seem to gain a certain size before
venturing out into the open water of the bay. All of
these fish, even the largest I took, which weighed three
and three-quarter pounds and rose fairly, were slim

MUNISING BAY

and shapely, and most magnificently vigorous, instead
of being comparatively heavy and logy, as I have found
most large trout to be in comparison with fish of one
pound or under. Evidently the normal size of the
Lake Superior trout is very large, and he does not begin
to grow thick and heavy until he reaches four or five
pounds at least. Of course the open water, abun-
dance of room and absence of obstructions, give a
great advantage to the rod, and with patience and care
one should land almost every fish hooked, no matter
how heavy and strong.

These big fellows take more than “‘a slight turn of
the wrist” to hook them. One must strike sharp and
hard to’,set the big’ hook deep in them fheny
jaws. When this habit is once formed it is very diff-
cult to get rid of, so I always strike too hard for small
fish. We are all prone to exaggerate the resistance
made by a hooked fish and the time required to com-
pletely subdue him, and a spring balance and stop
watch would change our views as to both particulars.
The strain against the hand is of course magnified very
many times by the leverage of the rod, and the time
consumed is similarly multiplied by the imagination.
I think that a fish can rarely exert a force equal to the
dead pull of his own weight, and that two or three min-
utes for each pound of weight should be the out-
side limit of time necessary to reduce any of the sal-

Whitetail Buck—2

MUNISING BAY

monide to entire subjection. ‘These estimates are of
course only approximate, and I shall try to verify them
by actual tests when the next opportunity comes.

A Tenderfoot In Colorado

Forest and Stream, Nov. 14, 1896.

HIS is an attempt to describe an ex-
pedition after elk, deer and. other
game to the extreme northwest cor-
ner of Colorado. It is not intended
as a manual for experienced sports-
men, or ta take the~ place of. Van
Dyke’s “Still Hunter” and Roose-
velt’s graphic books, nor will the

skilled Western hunter find in it any suggestions by

which he may guide his career. It is a record of the
personal experience of a tenderfoot, who had shot some
deer and caught some trout in less favored regions, and
who writes with the earnest desire, which will doubt-
less prove fruitless, to give his own kind of sportsmen
some idea of the charm of the wild portion of the West-
ern country and of the pleasures which may still be
tound there. A portion of my experiences have been
already published, “Impressions of a Tenderfoot,” For-

est and Stream, December 8, 1894, but I hope that a

more detailed account will not be uninteresting. Should

it prove so, the fault will be in my lack of ability as a

word painter and not in the real charm of the things I

am trying to depict.

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

It was in the fall of 1894, and I was invited to join
a party already established in Routt county, Colorado,
and reported to be camped on the eastern slope of
“Anita” or “Bear’s Ears” Peak in the Elkhead Moun-
tains. My personal outfit, which proved entirely satis-
factory, was about as follows:

One Winchester repeater, model 1886, with Ly-
man sights.

Two hundred cartridges, .45-90-300, solid ball.
(Too many.)

One stout jackknife. One compass.

One suit heavy woolen clothing.

One pair heavy woolen trousers, extra.

Two pairs of heavy shoes, with soft hob-nails.

Lot of heavy and medium weight flannels.

Two heavy sweaters, much more useful than an
overcoat.

Heavy flannel shirts and worsted socks.

Brown slouch hat.

One pair canvas leggings.

Two pairs heavy dogskin gloves for riding.

Camp mattress, with cover and straps to roll.

Two pairs heavy blankets; one pair made into a
sleeping bag.

One small feather pillow.

Cigars, matches, etc.

Bull Elk

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

One canvas war bag, about 2 ft. 6 in. x 4 ft. 6 in.
Catehall:

One possible sack, 1 ft. x 2 ft., for small articles.

There were to be three of us in the field and we
had contracted with Mr. J. W. Baxter, of Glenwood
Springs, Colorado, for the general outfit needed; this
consisted of about the following, and was all furnished
at a fixed and very reasonable price per day:

Mr. Baxter himself as chief guide.

Wallace Baxter, guide and horse-wrangler.

Cale, cook—I do not know his last name.

These men were admirable in their respective de-
partments and were individually a fine lot of fellows.
They were as free and equal as the Declaration of In-
dependence. Ready, able and willing to do the work
they had contracted for, but not considering that they
were in any way inferior to the other American citi-
zens who formed the party of the second part (and
they were exactly right), faithful, untiring, experi-
enced, good-natured, quiet and soft-spoken, not one us-
ing liquor or tobacco, on the whole as good men as
could have been found, if not better than any others.
Cale is worthy of a chapter to himself. A big, burly
fellow, with a great red mustache hanging over his
mouth, white slouch hat on the back of his head,
leather-fringed chapparejos and Mexican spurs. When
he bestrode a broncho, swung a riata in his right hand,

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

held the reins high in his left, cowboy fashion, and sent
his bucking, squealing mount over logs, brush and
rocks, he looked more like a bandit than one of the
peaceful profession. But how he could cook! Shall
I ever forget his blacktail steaks, his elk soup, and last,
but not least, his flapjacks—just the size of the long-
handled frying-pan, and turned over by a toss into the
air. Nothing was ever better, if so good.

But I have got away from the outfit, and must
come back to business again.

Three tents, about ten by eight feet; sheet iron
cook stove, four folding chairs, two camp-stools, table
(this consisted of only the top and cross pieces, the legs
being cut anywhere and driven into the ground until
level). Pots, ‘pans,’ kettles, "etc:;) packed. in) stove.
Knives, forks, plates, cups, etc., for six. One hundred
dollars’ worth of supplies, which we paid for. Pork,
flour, potatoes, canned goods, jellies, spices, caviar,
pickles, beef extract, etc. No whisky; you do not want
iat that altitude-except for medicine. | The-beef ex-
tract is much better.

Twenty-four bronchos, with saddles, pack-saddles,
etc. Of this lot of horses six were constantly in use un-
der saddle, fourteen carried packs and four were extra
horses. No feed is carried. At night the horses are sim-
ply unpacked or unsaddled and turned loose to find
their own food and rest. One of them carries a bell, and

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

the bunch can generally be trusted to stay pretty close
together and not to stray very far away. This trust, in
the latter particular, is not always deserved, and then
the guides have a big job on hand and traveling must
be suspended until the drove is found and driven back
into the corral. These horses are half wild and will
rarely submit to be caught singly; so the first job after
going into camp, when the tents have been pitched and
the fire lighted, is to build an inclosure of brush, limbs,
ropes and other obstacles, into which the herd may be
driven when wanted.

The pack horses when traveling carry about one
hundred and fifty pounds each, sometimes more, and
string out into a long line in Indian file. At the head
of the procession goes the chief guide, leading the way,
with a keen eye for known landmarks and for proba-
bilities of wood, water and grass. After him comes
the pack train, each horse following in the footsteps of
the one preceding and making the same turns and
twists. At the rear comes the horse-wrangler, driving
up the laggards and looking out for accidents, and
only too apt to be surrounded by a blue and glittering
cloud of strong language, which would seem censur-
able to a novice, but is soon realized to be the almost
necessary accompaniment of the position, human and
horse nature being such as they are. At varying posi-
tions in the line are the ‘“‘cook and the crew of the cap-

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

tain’s gig,” helping over difficult places, galloping
ahead after game or delayed in its pursuit, but never
very far from the main body. The train goes at a walk,
and makes no detours for hills or valleys, but crosses
everything as it comes. It will travel about twenty-
five miles a day over rough and trackless country, and
do but little more on a road, if it ever gets to one, which
it does not often do, for there are no roads in this coun-
try except along certain main lines of communication
and very far apart. It is an absolutely wild region, in
which the only paths are those made by the game in
their journeyings for centuries. So over every divide
and along every stream and valley you generally see a
well-trodden and distinct path, often beaten down some
inches below the surface of the ground, and this follows
the easiest course there is to be found. Perhaps there
is no easy course at all, but the trail can be depended
upon to take the best there is to be had.

But this has been a tremendously long preface,
and I fear the personal adventures will be a small tail
to so big a kite; still perhaps the preface may be useful
while the main work will be neither useful nor orna-
mental; in any event let me come back to my story.

From Colorado Springs we, my brother Wolcott
and myself, took the evening train west on’ the Denver
& Rio Grande, and early next morning landed at Wol-
cott, in the canyon of the Eagle River and on the west-

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

ern side of the Continental Divide. Having some hours
to wait for the stage, we got out our fly-rods and
succeeded in extracting a few trout from the beautiful
river; these I dressed and the obliging landlady cooked
them for our dinner. This was my first introduction to
the black-spotted Rocky Mountain trout (Salmo pur-
puratus, Goode), and he is a fine fellow and worth
knowing. Quite different in his habits from the fon-
tinalis, at least in my small experience, both in the parts
of the stream he is found in and the character of his
rise to the fly; but a dashing and vigorous fighter and
very good on the table. We got nothing of any size
here, but afterward, in the canyon of the Yampa below
Steamboat Springs, took plenty of them up to two
pounds in weight, and were sure that longer effort than
we could give would have developed mighty ones from
the magnificent pools of that glorious trout stream.

At noon we climbed into the stage which was to
take us to Steamboat Springs, about eighty miles due
north, and to consume a day and a half in doing it.
The vehicle was what is called a mud wagon—seats
for six, a cotton top, the bottom filled with mail bags
and our own traps until places for feet were hard to
find, and harnessed to two bronchos. Following a
small creek valley we slowly climbed for hours until
the divide between the Eagle and Grand rivers was
surmounted, and then rattled down to the Grand Val-

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

ley at a speed and over roads which seemed to me any-
thing but safe. Realizing my greenness I had self-
control enough to hang on and keep my mouth shut,
while the driver whirled us down the grade and around
curves with a clear drop of a hundred feet (and it
looked like a thousand) on the outer side of the road
and within a few inches of the wheels. I am pretty
sure that fellow knew he had a tenderfoot on board,
and wanted to extract an appeal for more care; if so,
he did not do it, mainly because I realized that we must
all go together, if anybody went, and that he was prob-
ably no more anxious to be smashed than I was. We
crossed the Grand River at the end of this trying grade,
and then followed its course downward for several
miles, over a succession of ups and downs as we crossed
little valleys at right angles to the stream, finally bring-
ing up about six o’clock at a little hotel on a small
lateral creek. I hurried to get my rod together and,
walking some distance up the stream, managed to get
four nice mountain trout before dark, though the last
one was taken after the stars were well out. These
made a capital breakfast next morning, and were a
good preparation for the long and slow climb to the
top of the divide between the Grand and Yampa (or
Bear) river valleys. Once over this summit, we fol-
lowed the Yampa from almost its first beginnings until
at Steamboat Springs it makes a great bend to the west,

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

being then a full-grown river. We were constantly
tempted along its course by glimpses of most entranc-
ing trout holes, growing finer as the stream grew
larger, but had self-control enough to resist temptation
and keep on. This was a great mistake, and I here
want to lay down the general principle that, when a
trout fisherman finds good trout water, his highest duty
is at once to fish that water. Any other course will
bring only sorrow and unavailing remorse to his de-
clining years, and, like Kipling’s ‘““Mugger of the
Ghaut,” he will be always haunted by visions of the
joys that escaped him.

Somewhere about noon, as we were traveling
through Egeria Park, came our first sight of big game,
a series of black points on the sky-line of a ridge a
mile or two off, which the glass showed to be a band of
some dozen antelope. It was hopeless to get near them
in that commanding situation, so we did not try it. The
country along our entire journey was decidedly arid,
having few trees except close to the stream, the low
hills being boulder-strewn and as little cultivable as an
ash pit, but the river was beautiful, the odd buttes of
trap rock were striking, and now and then we caught a
view of rugged and distant mountains to the westward,
which were grand. The air was glorious, the sunshine
superb, and the little bronchos behaved pretty well for
bronchos, so the day’s ride was a pleasure.

Bull Elk—xz

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

Steamboat Springs, which we reached about six
o’clock, lies just west of the main divide of the Rockies,
and we could see the trail along and over the moun-
tains to the eastward by which North Park is reached.
We were too tired to try the famous hot baths of nat-
ural spring water, and a rather poor supper and very
hard beds were most welcome. A very large and fine
elk head hung in the hotel office, but the horns did not
look just right in color and, after some inquiry, I found
that they had been picked up in the woods, stained to
about the proper color, and fitted to the scalp of a cow
elk. JI was told that preparing heads for sale in this
manner was a regular and profitable business, espe-
cially since elk with fine heads were so much more
rarely shot of late years.

At Steamboat Springs Baxter met us, bringing
saddle horses for ourselves and a couple of pack horses
for the luggage, and we started at six o’clock the next
morning on our forty-mile ride to camp. ‘That ride is
one of the most pleasant and one of the most painful
of my memories. Until toward noon we occasionally
followed what might by extreme courtesy be called a
road, and might in places be traveled by wheeled vehi-
cles without great danger; then we took to the woods,
to game trails, to fallen timber, to precipitous hillsides
covered with boulders, logs and brush, and to all sorts
of places which, to my ignorance, were absolutely im-

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

passable to horses. Riding, as I had understood it, was
out of the question, the only things to do were to let
your reins loose, hang to the high pommel, balance as
well as possible and pray. All these I did as well as
several other things, but no ground seemed to make any
difference to our bronchos. They climbed, jumped
and slid with perfect success and apparent unconcern,
doing as many impossible things and as easily as a trick
bicycle rider. All this could not be done without fa-
tigue to the rider, especially if, as in my own case, he
had not touched a saddle for two years, and about the
middle of the afternoon I was ready to sit down,—no, I
had had sitting enough and to spare—to lie down and
rest. But there was no hotel in that wilderness, the
only supper and bed to be had were at the camp, and
I had to bear it, though past grinning. Now the region
was really mountainous, the higher ridges clothed with
timber and the stream valleys luxuriantly green, even
the lower ridges were covered with scrub oak and we
frequently saw deer. About four we came out into
California Park, an open, sagebrush-covered oval,
about ten miles by five, through which the Elkhead
Creek flows. Here antelope were abundant, and we
must have seen a hundred while crossing the park. On
its northerly side we came to a wall of timber, abruptly
bordering the desert plain, and beyond it could see the
double summit of the peak to which we were bound.

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

I have not any very definite recollection of that last
six miles through the trees. They were rough, tangled
and tedious, and I was too tired to talk or think. When
at last the welcome tents showed white through the
trees and the journey was over I was almost too tired to
know that rest was possible. If any man thinks me a
weakling, let him try thirteen hours in the saddle and
forty miles over mountains and then send me his re-
vised opinion.

Camp Buckhorn, as we named it, was pitched on
the edge of a glade about two hundred yards in diam-
eter and of irregular shape, traversed by a tiny moun-
tain brook and surrounded by magnificent red spruces,
some of them three feet through and over one hundred
feet high. To the west the ground rose on a rapid slope
for a mile or so, from which there soared the twin sum-
mits of “Bear’s Ears,” a precipitous mass of purple
brown trap, with only a few cedars clinging to its crev-
ices. The peak is supposed to be ten thousand five hun-
dred feet in altitude, and our camp was somewhere
near a thousand feet below the top. All around the
peak was forest, regions of spruce alternating with the
more open aspen trees, and all permeated by a maze of
open glades, or “parks,” of all sizes and shapes, and
connected more or less. The air, rarefied by our near
approach to heaven and perfumed with the fragrance
of evergreens, was a constant cocktail; and the sun,

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

through that clear atmosphere, had a radiant glory
which made one want to shout and sing. I found no
disagreeable symptoms result from the great altitude,
except that one couldn’t stop breathing, say to whistle
a bar, without having to gasp a little to catch up with
his supply of oxygen. The stimulating air made one
feel equal to any exertion, but experience showed that
uphill work must be taken slowly to avoid extreme,
though temporary, exhaustion.

A good supper and the heavy and dreamless sleep
of fatigue made another man of me next morning.
Baxter himself was assigned to take charge of the ten-
derfoot and insure him a shot. There was an inch or so
of snow on the ground when we started, though it did
not lie there long. Following the stream downward
for half a mile, we turned to the west, climbing the
mountain through a succession of beautiful little parks.
Not a mile from the camp we came on the first game, a
blacktail doe and fawn cropping the grass at the edge
of a little glade. The breeze blew from them to us, for
one must hunt up wind, and we stood for two or three
minutes and watched the pretty things at not over fifty
yards off, and the clearness of the air made them seem
much nearer. I do not shoot does myself, and even a
less scrupulous hunter would have found it hard to
pull trigger at that family party; so, after having gazed
our fill, we started them with a shout, not a shot, and

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

they bounded off none the worse for us. We kept on
into a heavy spruce forest, and I lost all sense of direc-
tion, and followed blindly in the guide’s footprints.
Soon he began to seem interested, but said nothing,
which was one of his habits, till he beckoned me up,
pointed to the left and said, ‘““There’s an elk. Shoot it.”
I could not make out anything that looked like an ani-
mal in that chaos of tree trunks and fallen logs, all gray
and brown, but strained my eyes in the indicated direc-
tion and finally made out that a grayish-brown ridge,
just showing over a fallen tree, was the back of a cow
elk, and that a dark knot just beyond was an eye turned
full on us. The rifle went to my shoulder; I took one
step to the left for a clearer view; the ridge and knot
vanished; there was a tremendous crash in the timber,
and I had missed my first chance. How I did mentally
kick myself all the way back, for we saw no more elk,
nothing but blacktail does and fawns, and that day’s
hunt was a failure. It was some consolation, however,
to find that the others had done no better.

The next day the guides took care of the other two
hunters, and I only tramped round near the camp, try-
ing to catch some trout out of the little stream, which
falls below prevented, as I afterward discovered.
Within half a mile of home I saw a dozen or more
deer, all does and fawns, for the bucks were lower
down, as we found later. The day after was one of

Ee—ISoopyy 11"g uno x

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

great experience. Baxter and I traveled over nearly
our former course and struck the trail of quite a band
of elk. I was sent off to one side, leaving my horse with
the guide, while he followed the trail. Presently came
the crash among the trees, and a whole band of elk
passed me at about a hundred yards off, giving no
chance for a fair shot. I determined not to let them
go without an effort, and started to follow the trail,
which was very distinct, and led me down the mountain
for a mile or so through dense forest. This ended at a
little brook at the foot of the slope, bordered by a wide
park, at the other side of which I made out a solitary
cow elk. There was no cover for a stalk, and I had
to try the shot, though the distance was fully six hun-
dred yards, and I made a clean miss. Now, with all
the confidence of a greenhorn, I determined not to
again climb the mountain, but to follow the little
stream until it intersected that on which our camp was
located, as I knew it must, and then follow the latter
home. This was well planned, but I did not know that
the two streams ran nearly parallel, divided by a ridge,
and came together five or six miles below the camp; so
I started down the valley. It was a delightful walk
through a succession of parks, but began after an hour
or so to seem pretty long, and I anxiously looked out
for the home stream. Suddenly, from among some fal-
len timber to the left and above my trail, there sprang

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

to his feet a splendid buck aroused from his day sleep,
and stood looking straight at me. In an instant the
rifle was swung into position, and at the shot the buck
simply let go everything and dropped in his tracks.
It did not take long to cover the eighty yards of hill
that lay between us, and I found him stone dead, with
the bullet mark just between his eyes. It took some
time to bleed him and tie a white handkerchief in a
conspicuous place to find him by, and, when I had got
started again and finally found the stream sought for,
daylight had nearly gone and a strange country was all
around me. It was evident that to get to camp in the
dark was practically impossible, so reconciling myself
to the inevitable I picked out a knoll where there was
a supply of fallen aspen timber and prepared for a soli-
tary camp. The first requisite was a fire, and I found
only two matches in my box. These must be made to
do the work. So I got together a lot of deadwood,
carefully cut shavings and arranged the pile, lighted
the first match with the greatest care, and made a suc-
cess at the first try.

Soon there was a fine crackling fire, and it was
good company as I perched on a pile of brush and be-
gan to figure things out. Here we were a long way
from camp, but on the right stream, and able to get
home when daylight came again. Good. There was
no supper, but a couple of cigars were still on hand and

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

the buck would make a good breakfast, after which I
was sure camp could be reached all right. Good again.
There was abundance of fuel, and a big pile was socn
gathered, a lot of bushes cut and piled for a bed and
into a mound to keep off the wind, and I settled down
for the night. The sun went down and the stars came
out, and there is no denying that it was lonesome, and
that there seemed to be a great deal of space all around
me. One could not help thinking that his proper place
was in civilization, and what a fool he had been to
travel two thousand miles just to get lost in the Rock-
ies; but the thing was done, there was no help for it,
and one must just make the best of it. The hours
crawled along, and the fire made me drowsy, so that
somewhere about eleven o’clock I was at least three-
quarters, possibly entirely, asleep. A little distance up
hill from me ran a deep-trodden game trail, and sud-
denly I was started broad awake by a loud “Woof”
from that direction. Nothing could be distinctly made
out, but a big black mass a few yards away gave an-
other “Woof” and then made off into the shadows.
Did I investigate him? Not much! I hugged my
rifle and my fire, and was only too glad to give him
the rest of the State, and thankful that the grizzly did
not need me also.

It was only a little while after this that I heard a
rifle shot far up the valley and answered it; before long

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

there was another and it was again answered, but when
the third came, now not more than a mile away, my
hammer clicked idly for the cartridges were out. This
was the lonesomest thing of all, but it was not long be-
fore my friends got within shouting distance, and Bax-
ter and Percy arrived with horses and took me back to
camp, which we reached somewhere about two in the
morning.

It might only be tedious to describe the succeeding
days, though they were far from tedious to us, being
most delightful and successful, both with deer and
antelope, though we were soon met with the difficulty
that we had all the venison we could use and that kill-
ing any more meant useless slaughter. So, though the
deer fairly forced themselves on our notice, we stopped
killing them and devoted ourselves to the greater and
rarer game. We were not lucky in striking elk for
several days. Finally Wallace, Wolcott and I had
climbed the mountain and were circling the peak when
we heard a bull whistle below us and not far away.
Instantly we were off our horses, Jet the reins trail on
the ground and started on foot toward the sound, finally
coming to the edge of a little park, when I heard Wal-
lace give a sudden low call. Just in front of me was
an opening like a port-hole through the last trees, and
through this I suddenly saw, standing still in the mid-
dle of the glade, and under the full light of the sun,

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

the most magnificent thing I had ever beheld. Im-
agine an animal with all the grace and beauty of a deer,
and five or six times as big. He had heard a strange
noise and was standing at attention, every muscle tense,
and his head lifted until his splendid antlers seemed,
allowing for excitement, to touch the sky. I did not
stop long to admire, and my rifle boomed the instant
the white bead showed against his shoulder. The
smoke hung in the foliage so as to conceal everything
in front, and I heard a second shot as I dashed through
it. ‘Chere was the elk in full run straight away from
us, with our dog Queen close at his heels; but before I
could shoot again there was another shot close beside
me, and the great bull came down on his haunches, the
ball having struck the spine and paralyzed the hind-
quarters. The dog leaped at his throat, and he struck
at her with his forefeet and antlers. I do not know ex-
actly how we got there, but just as we arrived the
splendid head went down and the grand animal was
dead, my first shot having struck just back of the shoul-
der and gone clear through both lungs. That was a
great moment; and, by the way, the very best seat in the
world is the flank of a bull elk which you have just
killed yourself, and the first one is much better than
the second.

I have already told of the much larger head which
fortune sent to me at the very end of our vacation, and

A TENDERFOOT IN COLORADO

will not try to give further details of our experiences,
though I might go on indefinitely with tales of our
later doings. How we chased the antelope over the
plain, which is rather barren amusement; how I
stalked a big buck, and he saw me through a hill and a
grove of aspens, spoke contemptuously of me in ante-
lope language, and cut his stick. How some bear hunt-
ers camped below us without advertising their pres-
ence, turned their yellow burros into the timber, and I
took one for an elk, shot it, and had to pay for it. How
the bronchos bucked when we came to break camp and
of the means taken to subdue them. How we went
down into canyons so steep that the horses had to sit
down and slide, and how we climbed out again. How
we fished the Yampa at Steamboat and got back to
civilization. But all these details I spare the unfortu-
nate reader, only urging him to go and try it all for
himself.

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My Best Catch

#1 IS now more than twenty years since
the first trout rose to my fly, and I am
indebted to fontinalis and his family
for more unmixed joy than I can
credit to almost any other one source.
He has given me many a delightful
day, many a pleasant remembrance,
and has fully earned my heartfelt af-
fection. But the pleasantest recollections are not of
the days when trout would rise to every cast and at any
fly, and one must stop fishing from sheer shame at such
slaughter, but rather of the times when it took many
casts and much care to stir a fish, when finally one
would rise short and settle back, when one must go
further down stream or sit behind the bushes, waiting
for him to forget his fright, and, finally, when the care-
fully planted fly would bring him up in earnest, when
the tip would quiver in response to the quick strike, and
the final reward would be earned only by much pa-
tience and care.

John Stuart Mill, if I remember my college course
aright, said that the true value of anything depended
upon two elements, viz.: “Value in use and difficulty of
attainment.”’ Good as the trout is on the table, his great-
est charm to me is his shyness, uncertainty and caprici-

MY BEST CATCH

ousness. If one could at any time catch all the trout
he wanted, if the few days of glorious success were not
separated by many of hard work and small results,
would any of us care much for trout fishing? J think
not.

But now I have to tell of an ideal day and an ideal
catch—one of those red-letter days which are the hope
of youth and the happy recollection of age. Such
comes but rarely, and fortunately so, for its frequent
repetition would deprive the sport of its chief charm.
This day, which in results far surpassed all my feeble
efforts in the past and which, I sadly admit, will prob-
ably far exceed any that I can reasonably hope for in
the future, brought far the best catch of trout I have
ever made, far the best I have ever seen, and one that,
with all due modesty, I offer as the champion score
made in reasonably civilized waters, under similar con-
ditions, within the last few years, and within equal
time. If anyone has done better within these limita-
tions I congratulate him most heartily, and only hope
that he may be moved to publish his experience and let
me read the story.

Toward the end of August the big trout gather to-
gether from the waters of Munising Bay and the ad-
jacent parts of Lake Superior, and assemble near the
mouth of the Anna River, probably for the purpose of
spawning in the stream. They are in large numbers

E—asoopy Wg

MY BEST CATCH

and of large average size, but are the most freaky, un-
certain and capricious fish that it has been my lot to see.
One who fishes for them must make up his mind to un-
limited patience, and to regular and unremitting at-
tendance, for he may be perfectly certain that, if he
abandon the effort for a single day, perhaps even a
single hour, those abominable trout will select that par-
ticular time for gratifying their appetites, and will
then be ready for another long spell of fasting and re-
ject his best and most skillfully presented lures.

During three years I spent my vacations at Munis-
ing, and most of the time in tempting these particular
trout. Many good catches I have had, with many
more days when the most diligent effort brought little
or no success. This year also brought me to those
waters and several days were spent in the same
way, with barely tolerable results. My companions
had become openly doubtful and disgusted, and I my-
self had begun to fear that the rapid growth of the new
City of Munising had driven the trout from their usual
haunts, at least to a great extent.

August twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth were days
of bright sun, a strong northerly wind, and very poor
fishing. Our party had arranged to spend Thursday in
an excursion down the new railroad, proposing to fish a
certain alleged lake somewhere on the line, of which
no one seemed to know very much. I was to go with

MY BEST CATCH

them, so, early on the morning of August twenty-sixth,
put my second best rod into the boat, left my landing
net at home, and rowed my wife and boy three miles to
the city, where our party assembled. The wind had
changed over night and was now a fresh breeze from
the south, and the day was cloudy and threatening. All
the way down I mentally discussed the advisability of
abandoning a place where I was sure there was fish,
to go wandering after strange lakes that nobody knew
anything about, and finally told the party that they
could go without me, and I would try the Anna again.
I was derided and hooted at, but stuck to my resolution,
and just at eight o’clock, solitary and alone, dropped
anchor and let the boat drift toward my favorite spot.
During previous days the trout seemed to greatly
favor the dark Montreal fly, so I had two of these flies
on my six-foot leader, backed by forty yards of No. F
juster-finish silk line, and a seven-ounce split-bamboo
rod—not my best one, but a nicely finished cheap rod
with a good action. I anchored in shallow water quite
near shore, and the ground within reach was tried
thoroughly without result. Then twenty feet of anchor
line were paid out, and the same process and results
repeated. ‘Twenty feet more brought my boat within
fifty feet of two patches of weeds, with a channel be-
tween, and about six feet of water around them. The
flies dropped just at the edge of the channel and were

MY BEST CATCH

drawn a foot or two, when there was a mighty rush and
splash, a flash of gold, crimson and silver, a quick jerk
of the right hand, the indescribable jar that tells of a
well-set hook, and the rod was bending double under
the rush of a splendid trout. The reel screamed to his
first wild efforts for liberty, but rod and hand were
working together in harmony, and the runs soon be-
came shorter, the pressure less, then there were short
dashes under the boat and away which were easily
checked, and finally the great trout lay on his side
completely exhausted. He was slowly brought along-
side, the hook seen to be well fixed, the leader carefully
grasped in the left hand, and a quick lift brought him
into the boat—over two and a half pounds, and a beau-
tiful and perfect specimen.

The line was again lengthened, and the flies
dropped near the old spot. Another rush and strike
instantly followed, and ten minutes of hard work pro-
duced the twin brother of the first one. He was duly
landed and admired, another cast was made and an-
other huge fellow hooked, and so for nearly two hours
big fish rose at practically every cast, were hooked,
played and landed. Every trout took the fly with a
rush, was well and deeply hooked, and not a fish was
lost, nor a rise missed.

A little before ten o’clock I was just about to re-
cover my line for another cast, and the rod was well

MY BEST CATCH

back over my shoulder, when the biggest fish of the day
rose with a tremendous surge. Instinctively my hand
went back and the strike told, but the poor rod gave a
startling crack. The fish fought splendidly, but was
played and landed without great difficulty, and a care-
ful examination of the rod disclosed no break, but I
knew that something was very wrong. This, however,
was the last really big fish taken, and the rod still
struck, played and landed a number of smaller fish, but
just at eleven a half-pound fish rose awkwardly, and at
the strike my second joint snapped short close to the
ferrule of the butt. By this time I was pretty well ex-
hausted and not sorry for good reason to rest, so pulled
in the half-pounder “endways” with the line, landed,
and started for a rod repairer and something to eat. It
was well into the afternoon before the damage was
repaired and fishing resumed, and then the rise was
over, and J took only a half dozen or so small fish.

Just as I was about to give up three boats appeared
around the end of the pier, rowing frantically toward
me, which proved to contain the rest of my party.
They had found no fish and come home in disgust, had
seen my catch at the boat house, where they were left,
and were wildly eager for a share of my luck. Then
the laugh was on my side, and it seemed my duty to
make it real pleasant for them.

I selected out and gave away nine of the little fish

MY BEST CATCH

and took home the rest of the catch, weighing, measur-
ing and photographing them after they had been sev-
eral hours out of the water, and the total left then
proved to be as follows: One fish, weight three and a
quarter pounds; three fish, two and _ three-quarter
pounds each; one fish, two and a quarter pounds; one
fish, two pounds; two fish, one and a half pounds each;
two fish, one pound each; two fish, three-quarters of a
pound each; ten fish, averaging one-half pound each.
Total, twenty-two fish, weighing twenty-five pounds.
It may be interesting to know that only two of these
trout took the tail fly, while twenty-nine took the drop-
per, though the two flies were exactly similar.

Now, looking back on this eventful day I almost
regret it. Never can I reasonably hope to do so well
again, and all my future laurels will be blighted under
the shadow of the past and greater triumph. Yet I
would not repeat the day if I could. Such things
should not be made too common, and in fact my suc-
cess was too easy and too great. Fortune poured me out
her sweets until I was cloyed with them, and I fear the
edge of my appetite is permanently blunted. Alas!
that man should be so made that only pursuit gives
pleasure and attainment brings satiety.

Surgery And Medicine

A VILLANELLE.
By a Patient.

}O CURE my undetermined ills
Successive doctors emulate.
They do not fail to send their bills.

As every new incumbent wills
They diet, drug and operate,
To cure my undetermined ills.

}

Tras a,
om) If! "a

They come, and hope my bosom thrills;
They go, and I am desolate;
They do not fail to send their bills.

Diet and dosing, purges, pills,
mu tail at their ‘respective date;
To cure my undetermined ills.

The druggist each prescription fills
And charges an excessive rate.
They do not fail to send their bills.

Nurses attend, in caps and frills,
At wages more than adequate,
To cure my undetermined ills.

“SURGERY AND MEDICINE”

Experts, renowned for various skills,
The task abandon soon or late,
They do not fail to send their bills.

And, by the cemetery hills,

The sad-faced undertakers wait
To cure my undetermined ills,
They will not fail to send their bills.

November, 1808.

cylin Hl i

iting,

An Ohio Trout Stream

WHE State of Ohio is thriving, prosper-
# ous, a good place for work and not
bad for amusement; but its warm
summers, gently flowing streams, allu-
vial soil and generally flat surface are
not congenial to the speckled trout,
and I think none are naturally num-
bered among its inhabitants. In the
north and west, however, there is a limestone region,
with the subterranean streams and great cold springs
characteristic of such a geological formation, and here
it has been found possible to colonize and maintain that
darling of all good fishermen. Near the village of
Castalia there rises a gently rounded knoll of moderate
height, down the side of which hurries a brook of con-
siderable volume. On climbing the slope one finds the
summit occupied by a crater, plunging to great depth
in the centre, and filled to the brim with blue pellucid
water which overflows through a break in the rim.
This “blue hole,” as it is called, is a great limestone
spring, fed by never-failing underground channels and
furnishing a copious and regular supply: of water at
the nearly uniform temperature of fifty degrees, sum-
mer and winter alike. After a rapid flow of about five
miles the stream bustles into Lake Erie near Venice

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

Station, and its briskness and brevity do not admit of
great change in its temperature from source to mouth
at any season, so that it is admirably adapted for a home
for trout, being, I think, about the only stream in Ohio
suitable for fontinalis. The whole stream is owned by
two clubs, has been fully stocked and carefully pre-
served, and fairly swarms with trout, chiefly fontinalis,
though a few fario and irideus were introduced a
number of years ago. These two latter quickly grow to
great size, and then never take the fly, devour heca-
tombs of their smaller kindred and are an unmitigated
pest, which the most vigorous efforts fail to entirely
remove. A brown trout was lately taken out of this
stream, that weighed thirteen pounds and contained
seven fontinalis up to eleven inches long, and doubt-
less many such sharks are still watching and preying
there. Where waters are already occupied by our own
delightful trout, introduction of the less attractive vari-
eties can do no possible good, in fact is practically cer-
tain to do much harm, so they should only be placed in
streams too warm and sluggish to suit fontinalis, being
often well adapted to such environments.

The brook has a steady and brisk current and the
water is surprisingly clear, although the whole course
is through rich, alluvial soil, nearly all under cultiva-
tion. Its bed is scooped into hollows and ridges and a
thick moss, the home of countless crustacea, covers

I—YI0LAG ViIJVISVT)

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

every prominence and gives the fish a rich feeding
ground. Under overhanging masses of moss, or be-
neath artificial shelters of plank, big trout le in wait
for wandering minnow or drifting fly. The novice is
enraptured at first sight of the stream, with its entranc-
ing ripples and pools, abundance of hiding holes, and
the dark forms that flash from cover to cover, and is
prone to think that a promenade along the edge and a
little easy swinging of his rod will quickly fill his
basket. After tramping a mile or two, whipping indus-
triously without a single rise, though the surface is
furrowed far in advance by darting fish, he begins to
learn that these trout are educated and not to be taken
except by the use/of the) sreatest skill and carey We
then he goes well away from the edge, walks down to
an undisturbed spot, creeps toward the bank, keeping
entirely out of sight of the water, stops twenty feet
from it, swings off forty feet of line in the air and
drops his flies on the barely visible surface, he will find
the problem solved, for in this and in no other way can
Castalia trout be taken. One must apply the English
rule of “fine and far off” and couple it with the fur-
ther maxim, “keep out of sight.” This latter rule is
of vital importance on all waters that are much fished
and it seems to me that sufficient stress has not been laid
upon it in most works on angling. Of course in wide
waters a long cast is all that is necessary; but in small

€—YOOLT D1IIDISDI)

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

streams, whipped by many rods, success can only be ob-
tained by accurate and delicate casting, joined to
much such precautions in approach as one would use
in stalking big game. It is also very important that the
first cast in a new spot be delivered with delicacy and
in the right place, so that a big and cautious trout may
not be put on his guard by any preliminary disturb-
ance; and this seems nearly as important as accuracy
and care in the first shot at big game. I remember once
in a very wild country to have had a good trout rise
boldly to seven successive casts, miss the flies every time
and be hooked on the eighth; but usually there is a bold
first rise, a half-hearted second one, possibly a boil of
the waters at the third cast, and then blankness and
desolation. If one will go away and sit down for a
few minutes, then creep cautiously back and very care-
fully drop the flies in the old spot, he is more than
iikely to have another handsome rise and hook the fish,
provided, of course, it has not been scared enough to
run clear away.

Through the hospitality of some members I have
been several times permitted to enjoy the privileges of
these waters and have had most delightful sport after
the necessary methods had been learned through sad
experience, finding, as one always does, that prizes are
valuable in the exact ratio of the effort needed to ob-
tain them, and that one of the wily and experienced

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

nobles of this stream was a more valued trophy than
many of the bold and careless denizens of wilderness
waters, where appetite and inexperience bring trout
to any lure, no matter how unskilfully offered, there
is no difficulty in hooking fish, and the only effort re-
quired is to properly play them.

Castalia fish are not usually early risers, at least
they will not often take the fly until the sun has been
up for some time. In summer diligent fishing for
hours before breakfast will very rarely result in a de-
cent catch, while at eight or nine o’clock every trout
will be ready for business. Until hot weather comes,
the middle of the day is the most favorable time, and in
March and April very few will be taken except on
bright days and during the warmest hours. My last
visit was made toward the end of March, and the trout
were then very sluggish, never rising clear of the wa-
ter, and showing little energy when hooked. The fish
were evidently feeding on small crustacea and mollusks
found in the moss, and my best success was at a point
where there was a wide expanse of this growth covered
by water not more than six inches deep. Sharp fur-
rows of the surface betrayed the presence of good-sized
fish, so I went well back from the water, sat down and
smoked a cigarette while the pool quieted, and then
wormed my cautious way to twenty feet from the edge,
lay flat so as just to glimpse the water through the

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

grass stubble, gathered forty feet of line in the air, and
dropped the cast well out. A wake like that of a steam-
boat rushed toward the flies and as it reached them the
rod went back sharply, the line tightened and the hook
set, and after a little gentle play I was surprised to find
two trout fast, each fourteen inches long, but in such
poor condition that they weighed only a little over
twelve ounces each, while trout of that length in fine
condition should weigh nearly a pound and a quarter,
which these would doubtless have done a month later.
On the table the flesh of these trout proved soft, pur-
plish pink and very deficient in flavor, and I have con-
cluded that fishing so early in the season is hardly
worth while.

Both the clubs maintain large hatcheries, and are
constantly adding to the stock of small fry in the brook;
doubtless most of these find their way down the de-
vouring maws of their larger relatives but the supply
in the stream is kept up to a high point. Artificial
plank shelters, each about ten feet square, are fixed
here and there for the convenience of the trout, and
frequent foot bridges greatly promote that of the fisher-
men. ‘The two clubs in the past have had disagree-
ments as to their respective water rights and how far
each could use its own property without injuring the
other, which culminated in a law suit that finally
reached the Supreme Court, ending as usual in a deci-

Castalia Brook—3

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

sion giving each party a part of what it claimed; but
this is ancient history, and now the clubs live together
in harmony, there being abundance of fish and sport
for all. The upper club owns the big spring and about
a mile of the stream, but has dredged a long channel,
curving back and forth on itself, so as to make several
miles more of artificial water, in all of which fish
swarm. ‘The membership of this society is large, so
that there are apt to be several rods at work on every
day all through the season; the foolish and reckless
minority of the trout are soon caught, and the majority
become educated to an amazing extent, so that by the
first of July it is nearly impossible to get any to rise
during the day. Some are then caught by a large fly,
with a split shot on the leader, run down the swift wa-
ter, but much of the fishing is done at night, when good
catches are often made. ‘There is a certain weirdness
about fly fishing in the dark, casting by faith, striking
by sound, and keeping out of the brook if you are
lucky, which is novel and interesting at first, but this
seemed to quickly pall after I had twice or thrice un-
tangled a snarled leader by the light of a pocket lamp.
The lower club has, I think, but twenty-five mem-
bers and owns several miles of stream, so the fishing is
much less continuous and the trout do not reach such a
painful degree of knowledge and caution; still they are
by no means inexperienced, and one can only make a

AN OHIO TROUT STREAM

decent catch by using great caution and patience and
considerable skill. The members of both organiza-
tions are very hospitable and generous, and give many
a pleasant day to those not fortunate enough to be stock-
holders.

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AWO HUNDRED miles northwest of
Detroit, about half way between Lakes

Huron and Michigan, and almost ex-
actly on the watershed between them,
the town of Grayling stands, on light,
sandy soil of no value for agriculture,
and surrounded by miles of stumps,
all that the axe and saw have left of
once splendid forests of white pine. Through the town
itself flow the headwaters of the Ausable, “the river
of the sands,” on their way to Lake Huron; and a few
miles to the west and north the Manistee begins its
course to Lake Michigan. At one point the rivers are
scarcely more than a mile apart, being separated only
by a low, sandy ridge. These streams, like nearly all in
that vicinity, are the original home of the Michigan
grayling, and a few survivors of that beautiful species
still linger there, though logs have torn through their
spawning beds, and intruding fontinalis, having worked
their own way in from other waters, and irideus, un-
wisely introduced by man into the Ausable, have har-
ried and persecuted their more timid and delicate pre-
decessors. My guides say that today the eastward river

ON THE MANISTEE

contains few grayling, many speckled trout, and great
numbers of rainbows, which monopolize the best water
to the exclusion of their more delicate and attractive
associates. Big, coarse, fighting with fury when hooked
but almost worthless when on the table, they take the
place and the food of their betters, to the disgust of all
right-minded anglers. ‘They are a little better than
pickerel, but not much. This is hearsay evidence, but
I have no doubt it is true.

The westward stream, more fortunate, contains
no rainbows, and a good many grayling, though the
speckled trout predominate. Visiting it in August, 1901,
we took trout and grayling in about equal numbers and
size, often alternately from the same pool or riffle.
Going there in June, 1902, and fishing the upper waters
only, four of us took in four days one hundred and fifty
good-sized trout, and not a single grayling. I fancy
that the spawning beds are lower down the river, and
that thymallus had not yet ascended after their spring
nuptials to the part of the stream where we were
camped.

The Manistee has a steady and moderately rapid
current, flowing over clean white sand; no rapids, but
an alternation of pools and shallows. The best trout-
ing was on its course through a large tract of cedar

swamp, where the trees had all been killed by fire
or flood, and lined the water’s edges with a mass of

S
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ON THE MANISTEE

fallen trunks and tops. Among these the flies must be
deftly placed, using a rather long line; and a hooked
fish must be hauled away from danger, if possible, be-
fore he finds out what the trouble is, and begins to
run. When he will not come, as is not infrequently
the case, things happen, and happen fast. More
than once I stopped a pound fish, in his first mad rush
toward a submerged cedar top, by sheer strength of
rod, line and leader, and more than once I did not; but
the six-ounce rod, and the little No. 10 fluttering flies
did good work all through, and not a fish was lost by
failure of tackle.

One must camp to fish either river to good advan-
tage, and guides and camp outfits can be had in Gray-
ling, though arrangements should be made well in ad-
vance.

On these rivers the fish, when boated, are put into
« box under the angler’s seat, which communicates
freely with the river. Those not needed for immediate
use are kept alive in a fish crate of slats, so that they
are in perfect condition to take home; that is, if one be
a resident of Michigan. The law prohibits the taking
of fish or game out of the State.

In a recent, handsomely bound and elaborately il-
lustrated book, entitled “The Speckled Trout,” the
writer tells of an alleged actual experience. The sharp
strike is followed by a furious rush down stream, the

Trout and Grayling

ON THE MANISTEE

reel shrieks fiercely, the fisherman’s heart leaps with
joy and fear, and the long and fierce struggle finally
ends in the landing of a twelve-inch monster. Now this
is fiction pure and simple. A plump twelve-inch fon-
tinalis will weigh three-quarters of a pound, and no
such fish ever drew line from a reel unless the fisher-
man wilfully let him do it, or was too clumsy or igno-
rant to prevent it. We are all prone to exaggerate the
vigor of our finny prizes, partly from the weakness of
human nature and partly from the powerful leverage
given to the fish by the length of the rod. A little pull-
ing against a spring balance will teach us a good deal
on this point and bring our notions down toward ac-
curacy; but such exaggerated fine writing as that of
which the substance precedes this paragraph cannot be
too severely censured. The spring of a properly han-
dled rod will conquer any pound trout, and often one
much exceeding that weight, without an inch of line
being yielded from the reel. Any increase in the length
of line between fisherman and fish is materially to the
advantage of the latter, adding greatly to his chance of
escape. No more line should be given than is abso-
lutely necessary, and the trout should be reeled up as
fast as may safely be to within twenty or thirty feet,
when he can be allowed to exhaust himself with the
minimum risk of loss.

Trout are by no means always found in swift
80

ON THE MANISTEE

water. A deep still pool under the bank, shadowed by
overhanging trees and spiked with snags and brush, 1s
a favorite resort for the big fat fellows that you want
most. Never mind if your first cast produces only a
chub. The big trout often lie in the same water and
will be stirred to action if you keep the flies playing.
In August seek a deep still log-dotted corner, where a
draw on shore shows the probability of an underwater
cold spring, put your flies over it in the early morning
or toward sunset and you are more than likely to take
big fish after big fish. From such a hole on the Manis-
tee I have caught trout and grayling in about equal
numbers, and the biggest taken on the whole trip.

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Various Notions

OME years ago a lengthy discussion
was carried on in Outing as to
whether trout “leaped on a slack
line.’ The question did not seem
happily stated, but was explained to
ask whether trout, in the struggle to
escape, would jump straight out of
the water, when not drawn to the sur-

face by the pull of the rod. Although such an action
is not common I have repeatedly seen it occur, the fish
going straight up like a bass and turning over and over
in the fall, and this has happened with special fre-
quency among the large and lusty trout of Lake Super-
ior and Northern Canada. Black bass almost always
leap repeatedly, but now and then one will come to the
net without breaking the water at all. According to
my experience trout occasionally leap and bass occas-
ionally do not.

I recently saw an article in which the writer, evi-
dently an experienced and skilled fisherman, laid down
the general law that multiplying reels were inadmis-
sible in fly fishing. It would have been interesting to
know his reasons for such a positive statement but un-
fortunately they were not given. The use of the reel
after a fish is hooked is of course to prevent his getting

VARIOUS NOTIONS

slack line and, other things being equal, the reel which
will handle line most rapidly would seem to be prefer-
able. That the multiplier excels the plain winch in this
respect does not need any proof, and in all other re-
spects I have found it greatly superior. The modern
rubber and brass, steel pivot, multiplying reel is light,
strong and handy, and to my thinking the ideal equip-
ment for a trout rod. I have used nothing else for
many years, except when trying somebody else’s outfit,
and then came back to my own swift working reel with
the greatest relief and comfort. A modern large mul-
tiplier, such as is always used for tarpon, tuna and the
other great oceanic fish, might be found preferable to
the single action for salmon fishing also, if the con-
servatism of salmon fishermen would allow them to
give it a fair trial.

Springy rod and yielding reel are meant to co-
operate with the hand and arm of the fisherman in
keeping the connection between man and fish constantly
taut, under such strain as the tackle can easily endure.
When the terrified quarry dashes away the elastic tip
prevents any sudden shock and, should the rush be vio-
lent enough to break gut or tear out hook, the released
reel lets him go, under a constant strain, until his fury
and fear are somewhat abated. No fish will continue
to run indefinitely against a steady pull. He gets a lit-
tle tired, stops to think it out with his poor ichthyologi-

Peto

VARIOUS NOTIONS

cal brain, the reel begins to recover line and he is half
way back before the idea gets through his head. Each
rush is shorter than the preceding until the big fellow
is brought, exhausted and helpless, to gaff or net by a
line that he could snap instantly if rigidly held. With
all fish the rule is the same. Keep your line taut, yield
when you must and no more than you can help, and re-
cover line as often and as rapidly as you can. The fish
really plays and exhausts himself and should be per-
mitted to do so without being at any time held so hard
as to risk tearing out hook or snapping gut. Some-
times of course a dash for brush or weeds makes it
necessary to throw your hand back, let the rod take the
full strain and stop your fish or break your tackle. ‘The
tip rattles across your fingers, there is a moment of
breathless suspense, then the great trout rolls up ex-
hausted, or, alas! there is a sharp rending crack, a butt
broken at the ferrule, a leader fast in the brush, an-
other big fish gone and an excusably emphatic angler
left in the ruins.

To be successful in angling one must know the
haunts and habits of the fish, what bait, natural or ar-
tificial, is likely to be attractive, must have the tackle
and the skill to present the lure without causing alarm
and so that it will be taken, and the art to gradually
subdue the struggling prey, never using too much force
and never too little. Each kind of fishing has its pe-

VARIOUS NOTIONS

culiar charm and requires its peculiar knowledge and
skill, but human nature is so constituted that each of us
is apt to consider his specialty to stand far above the
rest, and to look with a shade of contempt on those de-
voted to other methods and objects. ‘The almost san-
guinary conflict between the dry fly and wet fly schools
of anglers is a marked case in point. The chalk streams
of England are distinguished by very clear water and
languid current and around them has developed the
dry fly method of fishing for trout. This consists of the
use of very fine tackle with a single small floating fly,
searching for a rising fish, and casting the fly upstream
so that it will float over his nose. ‘These methods are
admirably adapted to that water and undoubtedly far
more successful there, and on other streams possessing
similar characteristics, than any other mode of casting
the fly. The devotees of this special sport first grew to
think it the best way to take trout, and at last came to
the broad generalization that their beloved method
was the only proper one and to be used under all cir-
cumstances. One who uses what has come to be called
in contradistinction the ‘‘wet fly” method they con-
temptuously describe as a “chuck and chance it” angler,
and one who prefers to fish down or across stream is
considered at least a heretic and almost an atheist. In
our swift American trout waters the upstream cast is
generally of little use, as the rapid current slacks your

VARIOUS NOTIONS

line so quickly that effective striking is almost impos-
sible, and a rise cannot be so accurately located that a
fly can be floated over it with effect. To cast down or
across the current is the only practical method over
most of their courses, but, should still pools or gently
flowing reaches be encountered, the chalk stream
method will often be found most effective.

It is traditional among salmon fishermen that the
tip should be lowered when a fish leaps and raised
again after he strikes the water, the alleged effect being
to slack the leader and so prevent the hook being torn
out, or the gut broken, by the salmon’s weight falling
across a taut line. This principle and practice is vig-
crously attacked by Mr. Wells in his admirable book
‘The American Salmon Fisherman,” in which he ex-
presses the decided opinion, backing it by very effec-
tive argument, that, when one has out a long line in a
swift current, dropping the tip at a leap cannot possibly
affect the strain on the leader in time to be of any ser-
vice. He goes on to say that, after very careful and ex-
tended experiments with both methods, he has found at
least no more fish escape when the tension is kept up
than when the tip is dropped, and that now, when a
silvery salmon shoots into the atmosphere, he only
looks on and admires.

If the traditional method is correct with salmon it
would also seem the proper one to follow in the case of

VARIOUS NOTIONS

any leaping fish; bass, trout, tarpon, tuna and all the
acrobatic tribe; but I think it has never been even sug-
gested except for salmon. As the cardinal rule for suc-
cess is “keep your line taut” any course that violates this
principle should be sustained by the best of theoretical
argument and verified by long and careful practical
tests. My own experience with salmon has been rather
limited, but with them and other fish I have never
dropped my tip at a leap, and certainly have not lost an
undue proportion of hooked fish. In fact it is my habit,
when a fish leaps near me, on a short line which can be
kept clear of the water, to raise my point as he comes
up and lower it as he falls, thus keeping the line always
taut. With a long line out I believe it advisable to
hold on steadily and trust to the spring of the rod and
the hold of the hook, when a fish goes into the air. Of
course the leap is a very sudden and fierce effort, gives
the greatest possible strain and jerk that the fish is cap-
able of, and is likely to break tackle or tear out the
hook if anything can, but it is at least very doubtful
whether dropping the tip and slackening the line will
not always do more harm than good.

An eminent American, formerly President of the
United States and famous for many admirable quali-
ties, has recently published a book of’ fishing and
shooting sketches, which must appeal to every sports-
man by the good sense, apt language and true and

VARIOUS NOTIONS

kindly spirit which mark it throughout. Never-
theless even Mr. Cleveland is not entirely free from
prejudice in favor of his particular ways of fishing,
nor is he always absolutely correct in his statements
concerning other methods less familiar to himself. Ap-
parently he has met and heard some bigoted fly fisher-
men, intolerant of anything but fly fishing and abusive
toward the devotees of bait in any form, and the re-
membrance of these unwise and aggressive persons
rankles a little. Hence this very reasonable and cau-
tious writer is led to assert it to be absolutely prepos-
terous that the fly can be effectively cast by the motion
of the forearm alone, the whole upper arm to the el-
bow being strapped to the side. Now any experienced
fly fisherman knows that this so-called feat presents no
real difficulty, and has seen done, and done himself,
practically the same thing. In fact it is my custom
when fishing from a boat, where casts of great length
are not necessary and when the wind is not high, to rest
the right elbow on my knee and cast mainly with the
wrist alone, thus saving considerable fatigue. This re-
quires no particular skill and is certainly no cause for
boasting, being perfectly easy to accomplish. For very
long casts, or against or across a high wind, one is prone
to use the whole arm, backed by a thrust of the shoul-
der, for the vigorous stroke which is then essential to
put the flies out with a straight line; but I think we

VARIOUS NOTIONS

should all do better casting by depending mainly on
the sharp stroke of the wrist, using the forearm but
little, the upper arm much less and the body not at all.

Rifles range from the huge four bore, taking an
ounce of powder and a round ball of a quarter of a
pound, able to rake an elephant from stem to stern and
stop him in full charge by sheer striking power, down
to the tiny twenty-two caliber, fit only for birds and
small game. The comparative power of rifles of all
calibers has recently been greatly increased by the per-
tection of high explosive smokeless powders, with the
accompanying increased strength given by nickel steel
barrels. Of course the all-around rifle, suitable for any
game, does not exist, and the weapon must be propor-
tioned to the animal it is to be used against. Too large
a gun burdens the man with its weight and bruises him
with its kick; but too small a gun tortures without kill-
ing, and may be insufficient to stop the charge of dan-
gerous game, so that the hunter risks injury or even
death. Hence one must be sure to have his weapon big
and powerful enough.

The repeating rifle has been brought to a high de-
gree of excellence in America, and its use is here prac-
tically universal. The later models, high power,
smokeless powder, take down, are most admirable
weapons, light, powerful, accurate, low in cost, and,
even in quite moderate caliber, fully equal to any game

VARIOUS NOTIONS

found in North America except possibly the grisly
and polar bear. The patterns being standardized any
broken or worn parts can be replaced easily, cheaply
and quickly. These guns come in a great variety of
bores, taking ammunition of widely varying power.
My favorite is the Winchester thirty-three smokeless,
which has given me admirable service against deer
from the moose down. Such a gun complete with Ly-
man sights costs about twenty-two dollars.

English sportsmen, on the contrary, are addicted
to the double express rifle, using bores and weights of
powder and lead that seem to us absurdly large for
most game. Mr. Kirby, in his admirable book “In
Haunts of Wild Game,” speaks of shooting bush buck
and smaller antelope with bullets varying from five
hundred and ninety grains to two and one-half ounces.
Against animals of such size we of the Western Hemis-
phere would use a soft nose ball, not exceeding two
hundred grains, and would I think show quite as good
results.

Mr. Kirby, and even that king of sportsmen, Sir
Samuel Baker, condemn the repeating magazine rifle
in the most unqualified way, on the theoretical ground
that the balance must alter as the ammunition is ex-
pended, but I have not been able to find from their
books that either of them ever made a practical trial
of the arm. To condemn a weapon on a priori grounds,

Kinghsh

VARIOUS NOTIONS

without any actual test, is more than likely to lead one
into gross error. According to my own experience,
which I feel sure is that of many thousand riflemen,
this theoretical objection to the repeating rifle is abso-
lutely imaginary.

English sporting journals rarely if ever mention
American rifles, but celebrate the hand-made double
express, costing from fifteen to fifty pounds sterling,
for all kinds of shooting and in all calibers. Whether
this is caused by pure British bullheadedness and con-
servatism, or is due to subsidization by local gunmak-
ers, would be difficult to determine. Of course our re-
peating arms are not intended for elephant, rhinoceros,
or hippopotamus, and might possibly be unequal to the
gaur and African buffalo; but for any lesser game they
would doubtless be quite sufficient. To use a double
rifled cannon with a two-ounce projectile against ante-
lope and deer of two or three hundred pounds would,
in this country, be considered ludicrous. The lighter
guns are certainly coming into use, even by the con-
servative English, as Mr. Selous reports excellent suc-
cess against elephants with a forty-five express, using
a hardened ball of about six hundred grains, in fact he
practically recommends that nothing larger be carried,
at least except in very special cases.

A repeating rifle renders it possible to pump half
a dozen shots in the general direction of the game,

VARIOUS NOTIONS

should the sportsman be sufficiently hasty and excit-
able, but the blame for such foolishness is not on the
gun but on the man behind it. One well-aimed shot at
standing game is worth a dozen fluky ones at a running
mark, no matter what kind of rifle is delivering them.

All fishermen carry in their books many flies that
they very rarely use; but nearly all have one or more
favorite flies, which they are never without, and which
are likely to go on the leader for the first trial cast. I
have fished over most of the Adirondacks, in the Lake
Superior country, and in Northern Ontario and Que-
bec, during the last twenty years, and have also had one
season in Northern Colorado on the western slope of
the Rockies. The black spotted trout of the latter re-
gion I found to differ sharply in its habits, and in its
taste for flies, from any eastern fish I have tried; but
our beloved fontinalis has generally shown himself a
gentleman of rather uniform tastes, and, in my experi-
ence, had a strong preference for flies of certain pat-
terns, viz:

First: The Dark Montreal, claret body, dark-
brown wing, mottled with black, is by far the most suc-
cessful fly I have used. It seems equally good in the
small sizes—8 and 10—on eastern streams and for
rather small trout—and in sizes 3 and 4, with the three
and four pounders of the rock fishing on the northern
shores of Lake Superior. It seems good at all times of

VARIOUS NOTIONS

day and all days. Nearly every tackle-maker seems to
have his own fancy as to the color and shape of a “Mon-
treal,”’ but the lighter colored ones have never done
good work for me.

Second: The Abbey. This has proved a very kill-
ing fly in the Adirondacks, both early and late in the
season, using only the small sizes. The large sizes of
this pattern did not seem to attract the big Superior
trout at all.

Third: Red Ant. Very like the Abbey in general
effect, and almost as good. I have tried this in the
small sizes only.

Fourth: A number of. patterns, all occasionally,
perhaps frequently successful, and to about the same
degree. Grizzly King, Brown Hackle, Coachman,
Alder, Professor and Silver Doctor.

Fifth: The Parmacheene Belle. I have had
rather infrequent success with this fly, in small sizes and
for casting. In trolling a large fly of this pattern I
have taken many speckled and lake trout, and found it
much the best fly for that method of fishing.

Sixth: I always carry some “Black Ant” and
“White Miller’ in medium sizes. Occasionally they
have taken trout when nothing else was tempting, but I
use them but rarely in eastern waters. The Black Ant
was about the only fly the black spotted Colorado trout

VARIOUS NOTIONS

would take, during my own experience with that fish-
ing.

Seventh: One well known fly I have tried very
many times, have only rarely taken a fish on it, and
never a really good one, “The Scarlet Ibis.”

—_

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Fields And Pastures New

Y FIRST trout was caught in a New
# Hampshire brook, over thirty years
ago, and my first quail and duck were
shot in Ohio several years before.
Scarcely a year since has passed with-
out my getting an outing, long or
short, near or far, as circumstances
permitted; and it has been my privi-
lege and pleasure to catch trout in the Alleghenies, Adi-
rondacks, around Lake Superior and in the Rockies,
and to shoot white tail and black tail deer, elk and ante-
lope, as well as smaller game, in these and other dis-
tricts. J had, however, never shot or even seen moose
or caribou and longed for new game and a new coun-
try, which were found as told hereafter.

I.—TEMAGAMI.

In northern Ontario, about half way between To-
ronto and the southern end of Hudson’s Bay, and about
two hundred miles east of Lake Superior, lies the
“Temagami Forest Preserve,” part of the great wilder-
ness which extends indefinitely northward. Its only
roads are Indian trails; its only houses Indian cabins
and posts of the Hudson Bay Company and these are
very scarce; and the few Indians and whites who per-
manently make their home there practically depend on

oe OS

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

the only local staple, fur, the sable and mink skins ob-
tained being especially dark, fine and valuable. Each
Indian has his trapping range, often very extensive,
and his rights are respected by others, and pass to his
children by inheritance. Trespass is very rare and is
a grave crime, which custom permits to be prevented
or punished by any means found necessary.

Here the ancient backbone of the continent, the
Laurentian mountains, has been planed by glaciers
and gnawed by weather and time, until it has become
rolling or hilly country, ridged and ragged with rocks,
dotted with countless lakes, and covered in large part
by splendid forests of white and red pine, which so far
have been spared the ax. Through the tangled swamps
and boggy lakes splash and stalk the magnificent
moose. The black bear and lucivee roam the forests
and the mink and martin are many. Ruffed grouse are
numerous and ridiculously tame, and the scarcer and
more solitary spruce grouse is often met with. Big
black bass, pike and doré, the latter being the pike
perch and locally known as pickerel, abound in the
lower lakes and larger streams and, above the high ©
falls impassable to these, the speckled trout have taken
refuge and thrive and increase abundantly. —Temagamr
itself, most beautiful of lakes, with its multitude of
channels and arms extending for hundreds of miles and
studded with numerous islands, abounds in lake trout

100

1uvs vue J a IYTALY POO) V

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

and whitefish which grow to great size. The serpent
in this earthly paradise is the scourge of black flies,
midges and mosquitoes, which appear about the first of
June, make the summer months almost intolerable, and
practically disappear by the middle of August. In the
month of May the fishing is at its best and the flies have
not arrived, and with September comes the shooting
season and the flies are gone, so the tender-skinned
Yankee had better visit the country in May or Septem-
ber, and avoid the months between. A few of the pests
appear at the end of May and a few linger to the first
days of September, so a provision of fly dope and veils
is expedient.

This wilderness is reached from Lake ‘Temiskam-
ing either by the Montreal or Metabetchouan Rivers,
the sole means of travel being canoes. ‘The camp and
personal outfit, tents, blankets, supplies for the journey
and all luxuries, must be taken from civilization,
though flour, meal, sugar and such supplies can gener-
ally be obtained at the Hudson Bay Company’s post at
Bear Island. As everything must be carried over nu-
merous portages, some of which are a mile or more in
length and quite rough, the importance of going light
is manifest and at the best travel must be pretty slow.
A canoe and guide should be provided for each of the
party, and an extra guide with canoe to carry supplies,
cook and attend to camp, leaving the “sports,” as those

102

IU SVM] —asoopy [Ng

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

visiting the country for pleasure seem to be invariably
called, and their personal guides, free to get away from
camp in the morning or come in late at night, without
the domestic economies being upset thereby.

To avoid payment of duties, supplies of all kinds
should be purchased in Canada, at Toronto or Mon-
treal as may be convenient, and furnished in sacks con-
venient for portaging. ‘They can be checked as per-
sonal baggage. Michie & Company, grocers of To-
ronto, make a specialty of supplying tourists and have
given me complete satisfaction. Sleeping bags, tents
and camp and personal outfit I have found could best
be obtained from New York dealers. ‘Take the usual
trout fly equipment, a light steel rod with spinners and
spoons, and two hundred feet of No. 20 annealed cop-
per wire for deep trolling. For moose I have found
the new .33 caliber Winchester “take down” quite suffi-
ciently powerful and very handy, while the lightness
of both gun and cartridges is a great advantage. A
light .22 caliber rifle or target pistol will be found use-
ful for grouse or to give a finish to one of the big Tem-
agami lake trout, if you are lucky enough to hook him.
Guides vary as human nature always does. Mine were
excellent woodsmen and excellent fellows, though
sometimes rather slow, and did their very best to get
me good sport. Others that I saw and heard of were

104

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

inefficient, and as usual in such cases sulky in propor-
tion.

The regular rates for guides are two dollars per
day and twenty-five cents per day for each canoe. Tents
and blankets can also be rented if arrangements are
made in advance. The ice goes out of the lakes from
April 20 to May 1; but vegetation hurries forward to
get its work done during the short summer, and the
leaves can be almost seen to grow. Light snow and
freezing nights may be expected early in October and
pretty heavy snow is probable by the end of that month.
One is always likely to meet cool or even cold weather,
and the clothing and outfit should be provided accord-
ingly. I went in by way of Toronto and Mattawa, met
my guides at Temiskaming, and went by steamer up
the lake; but a railroad was then being built from
North Bay to Lake Temiskaming, which is now in
operation and gives a much better route, saving several
days’ paddling and portaging.

My first trip here was in the fall of 1900, when I
stayed only a few days, spied out the land, caught a lot
of very fine bass and my son missed an unexpected
moose. The following spring my wife and I started in
at Haileybury, went up the Montreal and through
Lady Evelyn and Sucker Gut lakes, and up a river
which meets the extreme end of the latter, to which we
gave the name “Lemabin.” After passing three large

105

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

falls we found wonderful trout fishing; in fact, the
trout were so numerous that an hour’s fishing per day
would furnish all that could possibly be used, and fish-
ing had to stop. Thence we went down through Tem-
agami and out by the Metabetchouan, a canoe trip of
over two hundred miles in all, taking three weeks and
full of delights.

In the fall of that year I went back hoping to get
a moose, but went in several wrong directions, struck
bad weather, was taken ill, and was too weak to trail
the only moose I saw, after shooting him through the
neck. My guides followed and finished him, but his
head was barely worth mounting. This was outside
the Temagami forest preserve in which shooting was
not then permitted. The prohibition was removed the
year after, and another trip provided me with a really
fine specimen, having a maximum spread of fifty-five
and one-half inches, with very regular and beautiful
antlers. This moose was evidently still young, and his
horns seemed light for the great size of the animal. I
measured him with great care and found his dimensions
to be: Nose to tail, ten feet one inch; girth, eight feet
three inches; hind leg to ridge of back, six feet; height
at shoulder (estimated) six feet nine inches.

Visitors to this country will find it wise to comply
strictly with the requirements of the local laws, which
are in no way unreasonable. The authorities maintain

106

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FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

a surprisingly efficient system of inspection, and the
punishment inflicted on a detected offender is very se-
vere. One can have plenty of sport legally, be safe
from penalties and, best of all, enjoy the approval of
his own conscience.

II.—NEWFOUNDLAND..

During the last trip to Temagami I met some New
York gentlemen, who had been caribou hunting in
Newfoundland the year before, and they were good
enough to give me a full account of their experience,
with names and addresses of their guides, routes and
sources of supply and, in fact, all the detailed informa-
tion that one has usually to laboriously, tediously and
expensively acquire for himself. I at once began cor-
respondence, and succeeded as I thought in making all
necessary arrangements, and our party of four left
Cleveland on August twenty-fourth. Four days’ steady
travel, by way of Boston, Plant line steamer to Hawkes-
bury, Cape Breton, rail to North Sydney, the steamer
Bruce to Port au Basques, and the Newfoundland rail-
way, would bring us to Grand Lake, where guides,
boats and supplies were to be. The actual trip did not
work out quite according to schedule, on account of
some delay in the arrival of articles ordered shipped
from New York, not quite time enough having been
allowed.

. Newfoundland is roughly triangular, the sides be-
ing about three hundred and fifty miles each, and much

108

ae Se

Caribou Stag—

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

indented with bays and long narrow fiords. St. John’s
lies on the extreme southeastern corner, and Port au
Basques on the southwestern. <A total population of
about one hundred and forty thousand, of which St.
John’s has forty thousand and about all the remainder
live on or near the coast, make a laborious and precari-
ous living by and on the product of the seal, cod, and
herring fisheries, which are almost the only productive
industries. The climate is too boreal and the soil too
barren to admit of much agriculture, and there is little
timber fit for anything but pulp and firewood, but, in
scenic beauty and as a home for game and fish, few if
any lands surpass or even equal it. The lower levels
are like the Temagami country, though the rivers arc
finer, the hills higher and the whole landscape on a
grander scale. The elevated plateaus, which make up
a large part of the interior and are called “barrens,”
are unlike any country I have ever seen, and must re-
semble the Scotch moors, though with much more
woodland. They are a series of rocky ridges and
knolls, often a hundred feet or more high, and
a mile or more apart, divided by valleys con-
taining streams, lakes and marshes, and dotted here
and there with patches of densely growing spruces and
balsams. Much of the higher land is covered with a
growth of dwarf spruce and juniper, rarely exceeding
three feet in height, and matted and tangled beyond

IIo

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

description. It is too thick to walk through and not
quite thick enough to walk on, and would be practical-
ly impassable for civilized man, were it not for the car-
ibou paths, which radiate in every direction and are
beaten down by centuries of use.

The caribou moss, “sphagnum” I think, forms a
soft mass of a foot or more in depth, and holds water
like a sponge. Everything below the ridges was soak-
ing wet, and one’s feet were in the water most of the
time; a good stock of waterproof foot gear is therefore
necessary for comfort. Boots are too noisy for stalk-
ing, and moccasins are difficult to keep at all dry, so a
lumberman’s overshoe, or rubber moccasin with leather
tops, would seem to be indicated and I shall try them
this fall.

The Newfoundland railway, a well-constructed
narrow gauge line, runs from Port au Basques to St.
John’s, curving northward to about the center of the
island and making a line of five hundred and forty
miles in total length. An express train, with parlor and
dining car, is run in each direction three times a week,
with a mixed train on alternate days. In summer the
express starts on time and is rarely very late; while the
mixed train is likely to turn up anywhere from two to
twenty-four hours after schedule time. In winter,
which begins about October 15 and lasts until May, I
understand that it is not unusual for trains to be run

Vel

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

three months apart and to be four months late in arriv-
ing, but this is beyond my personal experience.

The harbor of Port au Basques is a small basin,
entered from the sea through a cleft or canyon and sur-
rounded by rocky ridges, sparsely mottled with scrub-
by vegetation and irregularly placed whitewashed
cabins. One is reminded of pictures of Iceland
and Greenland, but the railroad soon passes into a more
attractive country, crosses or skirts several magnificent
salmon rivers, and after a run of about one hundred
miles, comes down to the splendid salt water fiord
called “Bay of Islands,” fifty miles long by a mile or
two wide, and bordered by stately hills which are near-
ly worthy of the name of mountains. Into the head of
this bay flows the Humber river, a glorious salmon
stream of large size, flowing between lofty hills, precipi-
tous cliffs, and all that is picturesque in landscape. As-
cending this river it first widens out into Deer lake, and
then contracts again into the upper Humber, into which
flows the Junction river, the outlet of Grand lake and
another superb salmon stream. The two log cabins
which form Grand Lake Station are just west of the
latter river, and there is a fine salmon pool immediately
below the bridge. Grand lake, about seventy miles
long and one to three miles wide, stretches off to the
southwest, bordered by rapid slopes rising to the great
upper barrens, a thousand feet above, promontories of

II2

Caribou Stag—2

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

which make picturesque headlands, down which flow a
series of dashing streams.

The journey down Grand lake is made in dories,
and parties can leave the lake and climb to the barrens
at any one of several points, being practically sure of
good shooting anywhere. We went down the lake some
thirty or forty miles, and made the climb and journey
over the barrens to our main camp very easily in one
day. ‘That is, it was easy for us, but how our guides
climbed that fierce hill, and tramped across the scrub
under their huge packs, was a wonder to me. They
were thoroughly skilled woodsmen, keen sportsmen,
willing, prompt and highly efficient; in fact, the best
guides I have ever had, and were well satisfied to re-
ceive a dollar and a half a day each, which also paid
the hire of two dories.

Caribou hunting here is real deer stalking, the
game being often found and its size and value deter-
mined with a powerful field glass at a mile or two away,
and then approached with due regard for the wind and
cover. The large stags are always quite light in color,
showing, especially on the neck, a great deal of white,
which increases as the season grows later, while the
does, yearlings, calves, and young stags are much
darker, often showing a good deal of black. A dis-
tant white spot is always worthy of careful examina-
tion and, if it prove to be a deer, his value as a trophy

114

Caribou Stag—3

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

can be often pretty well determined by his color,
long before his antlers can be seen. Many of the
does bear horns, though these are always small; but
I saw no does, which had calves with them, that
bore antlers, and think it possible that they are worn
only by does that are barren that year, and hence can
apply to the growth of horns the strength that nursing
a calf would otherwise consume. ‘The coat is very
thick even in summer and, with the heavy body, makes
the hornless does and calves look much like Jersey cat-
tle in figure, though the coloration is black, gray and
white instead of fawn, any reddish or brownish hue be-
ing unusual and slight. A large stag will weigh nearly
or quite five hundred pounds, and is therefore about
twice the size of our deer, and half that of our elk.
They seemed to me notably unsuspecting and easy of
approach, far more so than any other of the cervidae,
so that with reasonable care there was little difficulty in
getting within good range; and, like the elk, they cer-
tainly succumbed more quickly to wounds of the same
gravity than the Virginia deer.

In the early part of September the stags are begin-
ning to shed the velvet, the biggest doing so first, my
guides say. Does and fawns could occasionally be seen
in the open all through the day; but most of the deer
then pass the day in the woods, coming out when the
sun is low and going back in the morning, so the shoot-

116

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

ing is best done in the evening and at sunrise. One can
get through the marshy valleys with ease, through the
scrub or “bushes” with difficulty, and through the
woods scarcely at all, so the game must be caught in the
open. My guide and I sat on a little knoll one evening,
watching the deer come out of the woods and wander
over the marshes, when a yearling walked up within
thirty yards of us, and refused to go away for some fif-
teen minutes, though we stood in plain sight and pelted
him with stones. He was a beautiful light iron gray
and, as he stared and pranced in excitement, was a
charming sight.

It is well known that the Newfoundland caribou
have particularly heavy and fine antlers, many having
two large brow paddles, which often interlock, instead
of one paddle and a single spike as seems to be generally
the case in Maine and New Brunswick. Our two
licenses entitled us to six heads, which we got in a very
few days, and all were good specimens. My best head
had thirty-six points, each antler measuring three feet
two inches around the curve, and with a maximum
spread of two feet eight inches, the horns being of good
weight and very uniform. One of my companions got
a much heavier and finer head, though the two horns
were less alike. Two of our party were college boys,
neither of whom had ever shot a deer, and they both
got good heads.

117

FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW

Shortage of supplies compelled us to get back to
the railroad, and, after this deficiency was remedied,
we went about ten miles up the lake and camped by a
river flowing into it. It was high noon and a bright day
when we arrived, but I got out a light trout rod and
began casting over a pool in front of the camp, using
No. 8 trout flies. After taking two or three nice trout
and a one-pound salmon, my flies swept into an eddy,
sank a little and stopped dead. I struck and put quite
a pull on and nothing happened, so said to my guide,
“That’s queer, but it don’t feel like a rock somehow.”
Just then there was a convulsion and a big, silvery,
speckled fish shot out a good two feet. I eased him
down, he rested a few seconds, made a short circle and
jumped again. So he kept it up, never offering to run,
but going out of the water just twenty times and getting
half way out on the twenty-first, but finally was tired
out and landed. He was my first salmon of any size,
and a big fish for my tackle, though he only weighed
six pounds. Next year I shall go properly equipped,
fish systematically, and hope for something bigger.

Taken all together, in ease of access, beauty, va-
riety and number of fish and game, and interest of the
sport, Newfoundland equals if it does not surpass any
country I have visited.

Grilse On A Trout Rod

ARGE salmon begin to run up the
rivers of Newfoundland toward the
end of June, and the best fishing
comes early in July, while the time to
shoot caribou is after September first.
Few of us are able to make two such
long trips in one year, and fewer still
can devote a whole summer to sport,

so that it seemed as if we must either take the caribou

and regret the salmon, or be satisfied with the salmon
and dispense with the deer.

In September of last year I had a very successful
trip after caribou, but was filled with longing to fish
those superb rivers when their chief glory was on hand
for business, so this year planned to reach the island
about the middle of August, put in the first two weeks
in fishing, and go up to the barrens about the time when
the deer were cleaning their horns, so getting a fair
sample of each sport.

It was late on August twentieth when we reached
the Junction river, and early next morning we began
whipping that splendid stream, but to our’ great disap-
pointment three days’ hard work yielded only a few trout
and one small grilse; so we broke camp and went up
Grand lake, ten miles to Hind’s brook. Here we found

II9Q

GRILSE ON A TROUT ROD

the water very low and no fish of any kind, so broke
camp again, rowed to the Sandy Lake river, and went
up that stream five or six miles to the first rapid with-
out seeing a fish. JI had my trout rod mounted and cast
in every likely place with no rises, so, while the guides
were getting ready to haul the dories up the rapid,
I walked up the stream a few yards and cast again. As
the flies circled over an eddy there was a tremendous
rush and a gleam of silver, but no touch on the flies.
Of course, J should have put on a stronger leader and
a salmon fly and waited at least five minutes before
casting again, but was too ignorant and too eager for
this and cast again and again. That salmon rose six
times and then went down in disgust and stayed down.

I ordered the guides to find a good place and make
camp, and our whole party proceeded to string them-
selves along that rapid and whip the water. I put a
small salmon fly on my light trout leader, went up to
the head of the rapid and cast some distance above the
first break. Instantly there was a convulsion in the
water, a tremendous drag on the line, a leap into the
air, and that fish started down the rapid, leaping every
few feet, with myself splashing and scrambling
through water and over rocks in his wake, while the
reel screamed and the little rod bent almost to the
breaking point. He bounded gaily past one of my com-
panions, who cast wildly after him, seeing only the fish

I20

GRILSE ON A TROUT ROD

and paying no attention to the man in tow. Him I ob-
jurgated with what breath I could spare and continued
my wild career, until my locomotive paused in the big
pool below. There he circled, jumping every now and
then, while I wound in line and got my breath, and at
‘last drew him slowly toward my guide who stood ready
to gaff. For some incomprehensible reason that guide,
as the line came close to him, took hold of it; there was
a little jerk against his hand, the light leader snapped
and my fish was gone.

Such a situation makes one realize how imperfect
and inadequate are words for the complete expression
of thought, but I did my poor best to be equal to the
occasion. My line wasn’t touched again during the
whole trip, so perhaps all was said that was really
necessary.

There are four rapids on this stream below the foot
of Deer lake, and there were plenty of salmon in all
of them. No large fish took our flies, only grilse run-
ning from three to five pounds, so after the first day we
put up the salmon rods and used only our six-ounce
trout rods, with one No. 8 salmon fly, double hook—
the Newfoundland rivers being so clear that a large fly
is of no use. What sport we did have! We would lose
at least two fish out of every three hooked, so we had
all the fun and did not kill more fish than could be
used, which is the perfection of fishing to my notion.

I2I

GRILSE ON A TROUT ROD

Black bassP Pooh! Speckled trout? Stuff!
Rainbow trout? Bosh! Graylinge Fiddle! I have
caught them all over and over again, and, good though
they are, they don’t for an instant compare with the
acrobatic grilse. ‘The salmon is the king of fish, and to
take grilse on a trout rod is as good sport as this world
has to give.

I22

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Caribou in Velvet

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After Cartbou Again

FTER more than a week of grilse fish-
ing on the Sandy Lake river we
started back to Grand lake, intending

| to go down it about thirty miles to the

Narrows and back to our shooting

ground of last year; but two guides,

whom I sent to the station for sup-
plies and letters, on their return re-
ported that another party had started for the Narrows
the day before. So we rowed down the big lake only
about fifteen miles to a trail descending from the bar-

rens, at a place called Harry’s Hill and marked by a

very prominent rocky headland bearing the name of

Old Harry. This trail is excessively steep, and we

camped below intending to make the climb in the

morning. While supper was getting ready one of the
guides shouted from the beach, “Caribou,” and we all
piled down there in a hurry. On a bold bare promon-
tory five or six hundred feet above us stood a splendid
stag, head up and antlers displayed to the best advan-
tage, and posed there long enough to let us get the
glasses and admire his fine horns, when.he was joined
by a doe and strolled out of our sight.

In the early morning the guides all loaded up with
huge packs and we tackled the hill, and it was a hard

125

AFTER CARIBOU AGAIN

climb though much shorter than the grade at the Nar-
rows; the trail, however, was plain and quite clear of
fallen timber and very well beaten through the scrub.
which covers the upper part of the slope. After cross-
ing a high ridge of bare red rock, and passing a little
pond, near the shore of which were several caribou,
none having good horns, we camped in a grove, trav-
ersed by a rapid little stream, in which, by shifting a
lot of boulders, we formed a bath tub, having a constant
and copious supply of ice water.

East of us lay a succession of rocky ridges, scrub
covered slopes, and little lakes and ponds bordered by
small trees, an ideal country for deer, and from this
camp and one a few miles east of it we hunted for a
week, getting nine good stags, all that our three licenses
permitted. None of the heads were remarkable for
Newfoundland, though in Maine or New Brunswick
they would have been considered very fine. The fact
is that we were a little too early, August twenty-eighth
to September fifth, and the weather was too warm to be
very favorable, for the deer came out of the woods late
and went back just after sunrise. The antlers of all our
stags were perfectly formed and of full size, but still in
the velvet, though this could be readily peeled off
leaving the horns in fine condition, and their necks were
already white and shaggy, early as it was.

Northeast of Harry’s Hill is a wide expanse of

126

Caribou in Velvet—2

AFTER CARIBOU AGAIN

woodland and marsh at a somewhat lower level and
extending to Hind’s lake several miles away. ‘The
numerous streams and ponds abounded in trout, and
wild geese, which are reported to breed there, were
quite common; but there seemed to be very few cari-
bou except on the barrens and in the patches of wood-
land bordering on them and dotting the low places.
Here they were plentiful, though big stags with fine
heads were scarce as usual. Does with one or more
fawns were plenty and J found that my suggestion, that
only the barren does might wear horns, did not always
hold good, which shows the risk of generalizing from
limited observation. The biggest and finest stag seen
I ran across after my limit had been killed, so had to
be satisfied with creeping up near him, counting the
points of his splendid antlers, giving him a start and
watching him run. The flesh of these stags was ex-
cellent venison and the kidneys and livers, fried in their
own fat or boiled with a few onions, were especially de-
licious.

My first stag was intercepted on his way back to
the woods at daybreak, so it was only necessary to get
into his line of march, wait until he came within a hun-
dred yards and put the bullet where it would do the
most good, at my leisure. He flinched sharply at the
shot, but wheeled and went off at full gallop. The
second bullet was over him, but the third, aimed at the

128

AFTER CARIBOU AGAIN

toot of the tail, caught him close to that spot and made
him sit down in a hurry. The first ball had struck just
back of the shoulders and gone clean through the center
of both lungs, of course giving a mortal wound, but did
not prevent his making very fast time for about a hun-
dred yards and without any apparent difficulty.

My second success was more interesting; Fred and
I had tramped the bushes for several miles, and about
concluded that all the stags had gone back to the woods
and that we might as well go home, but before turning
back I climbed a ridge and carefully swept the coun-
try with my glass, particularly examining every one of
the numerous light colored rocks which dotted every
slope. A quadrant of the circle was covered without
finding anything, but, when the glasses settled on a
boulder half a mile due south, it suddenly changed
into a good stag lying down, the bushes behind him
having prevented his horns from showing to the eye.
The wind was favorable, so we had only to consider
the cover, and a thirty minutes’ crawl and creep through
the bushes brought us behind a big stone within a hun-
dred yards of the unsuspecting deer. He never knew
we were near him until I had counted his points, de-
cided that it was better to take his head and not have
to tramp that awful scrub any more, taken a careful
sight and fired. The bullet struck the shoulder, cut
the spine, the stag made a great lurch to one side and

129

AFTER CARIBOU AGAIN

struggled for a minute or two, but never got to his feet
and was dead when [ reached him. In both of these
cases I was surprised at the loud and distinct sound
made by the stroke of the thirty-three Winchester ball,
which was sharp and clear as that made by a base hit
and very like it.

Having now all the heads coming to me I asked
Fred to take out one of the party who had as yet seen
no stag worth shooting, and Fred said, “I'll get him
his deer if hell walk.” They left camp ecarlyeiem:
morning, with a couple of blankets and a little grub,
and were back the following noon with three good
heads, having seen over two hundred caribou. ‘They
had tramped straight south until about noon, dropped
the pack in a clump of bushes and hunted until dark,
going at least ten miles away from the baggage and
shooting the three stags at widely separated points.
Fred had then gone back in the dusk straight to where
the pack had been left, and in the morning found the
way again to each of the three deer, one after another.
The country is all pretty much alike, with no particular
landmarks, and so covered with patches of scrub that
one cannot hold anywhere near a straight course. The
guide must keep such a mental record as to certainly
find his way back to any point, follow the easiest path
there is, circle difficulties, watch where he puts his foot
at every step to avoid a fall, and at the same time see

130

Caribou in Velvet—3

AFTER CARIBOU AGAIN

any deer, still or moving, standing or lying, around the
whole horizon. To do all this without a fault requires
woodcraft of the highest class, and such skill is a never
ceasing wonder to the inexperienced.

These three stags filled our permitted number, so
we broke camp and packed everything to Grand lake
the next day, got to the railway the following after-
noon, and shifted the baggage, changed to civilized
garb, and took the train for home the day after.

The total expense of our trip, including three
licenses at fifty dollars each, the hire of five men and
two dories for a month, supplies for the whole party,
traveling expenses of every kind for sixteen hundred
miles and back again, and all incidentals except per-
sonal outfit, was about two hundred and seventy-five
dollars apiece for an outing of thirty-five days. For
this we got nine stags, about forty salmon, abundance
of trout, some ducks and ptarmigan, fine appetites and
sound sleep with the health and strength they bring,
and thirty days crowded full of the best kind of fun.
In what other way could anyone get so much for so
little

Some Black Bass

N Summit County, Ohio, the Cuya-
hoga river cuts down through the
carboniferous conglomerate, making
a gorge of about three miles long,
through which the stream rushes in a
succession of rapids, pools and falls.
In my boyhood a good many small
mouth bass resided in this water, and

their pursuit was the principal occupation of our sum-
mers. Of course we had not attained to the skill neces-
sary for fly fishing, nor was the necessary tackle there-
for within the reach of our meagre pockets, so we got
along with a bamboo pole, fitted with homemade
guides, borrowed reels, and a can of live and lively
chubs. Before long we got to know every inch of the
fishable part, and every stone on the bottom. ‘There
were certain refuges which always held a bass, a new
occupant coming in to take the place of his captured
predecessor within a few days at most.

The chub was hooked lightly through the lip and
allowed to run down the current. When a strike came
the bass would sail away, carrying the bait crosswise in
his mouth and, after going a few yards, stop, turn the
chub head first and start to swallow it. An immediate
strike would simply pull the bait away, never hooking

133

SOME BLACK BASS

the bass. At the first touch we dropped the tip, yielded
line smoothly from the reel till the fish stopped, waited
a few seconds more and then yanked. Two or three
good bass, two pounds or so each, were a remarkably
large day’s catch. Big mouths are found in the small
lakes draining into the Cuyahoga, but were very rarely
caught in the swift stream.

The reefs about the islands toward the western end
of Lake Erie were famous bass ground thirty years
ago, and a good many linger there yet, in spite of
pounds and gill nets. The fishing is done in the open
lake, often in a heavy roll, and the tackle used has to be
strong and rather coarse. A two-ounce sinker was made
fast at the end of the line, above which were from two
to four hooks carrying four-inch minnows and very
large flies, usually two of each. The boat was kept in
motion and the sinker dragged along or near the bot-
tom. Sometimes you struck a school, and for a while,
short or long, were kept busy, often getting two or three
big fellows on at once, when there was lots of disturb-
ance. Most times you bumped your sinker along the
bottom for hours without a touch. I have fished all
day for a couple of bass, and have taken forty in a
morning. These fish would average from a pound and
a half to two pounds, anything over three pounds be-
ing very large. May was the best time of year, but
there was another run of fish in October.

134

SOME BLACK BASS

The upper waters of the Ottawa, with its tribu-
tary lakes and streams, is the real stamping ground of
micropterus, and there they are larger, stronger and
more frequent than anywhere else that I know about.
Some of these lakes, deep in the wilderness, are prac-
tically never fished and so contain just as many bass as
can be supported. They grow very large and are tre-
mendously strong and fierce; one of the big fellows on
a light rod will keep you busy for a good while and
teach you something new about rushes and jumps.
These splendid warriors in dusky mail won’t give in
till they have to and, when you lift one into the boat,
he hasn’t a flop left in him. They are so strong that
they are slow to die in the air. When the day’s catch
has been unduly large I have often put back the live-
liest ones, after they had lain in the boat for an hour or
so, usually in more or less water, and seen them gradu-
ally move a little more and more, flap fins and tail
faintly, then more strongly, straighten up and fall back
on the side, finally sailing off all right. You can hook
a bass, fight him to a finish, take him off and put him
back in the lake, being sure that it won’t hurt him a
bit; in fact, I think he rather likes it.

Personally I don’t like the bass on the table, the
musky flavor being disagreeable to me, nor do I think
him beautiful. But he is a real fighter, half battleship
and half bulldog, and must be respected and admired
even if you do not love him.

135

On Guides

BOMFORT in camp, success in sport,
i] and often safety and life itself, de-
pend on having skilled and willing
guides. ‘They pitch the tents, make
the beds, cook and do all the other
work—and the amount of labor in-
volved in the simple housekeeping of
a camp is surprising—paddle the
canoes, carry the packs, find the good ground and the
game, direct the stalk and trail the wounded quarry,
lead the way through forest, thicket, fog, storm and
darkness back to camp or bivouac; in fact, without
their constant help and guidance, the wilderness would
be impossible to us dwellers in the cities. The high
specialization of civilized life tends to make each man
a cog or lever in a great machine, doing certain limited
work only, and depending on the co-operation of a
multitude of others to produce anything complete and
finished. The guide, depending on himself alone to
meet all the varying emergencies of life, becomes a
type of the all-around man, able to do anything in his
own field, and developing remarkable ability in over-
coming difficulties by simple methods and extraordi-
nary skill in doing well a great variety of things.

Life in the real wilderness seems to tend to make

137

ON GUIDES

men honest, simple, efficient and trustworthy, and near-
ly all the many guides I have known have been fully
worthy of all these adjectives; but guides are human
and no more able to resist continued temptation than
most of us; so that one is only too apt to find those that
hang around the great hotels develop the servile vices,
do as little work as possible for the largest price obtain-
able and spend their earnings on whiskey and cards.
Such men are worse than useless and, if one has reason
to suspect that he has one in the party, the only thing
to do is to get rid of that man at once, no matter what
the trouble and cost. Better lose a week’s time, or even
abandon your trip, than find yourself deep in the wilds
with a guide who cannot be depended upon.

Some guides have skill in woodcraft that is simply
amazing. I remember once starting out from camp to
find a spring that ought to have been, and possibly was,
in a valley half a mile off, pushing my way through
thick brush and over rotten ground, full of holes, for
several hundred yards, and then discovering that my
only pair of eye glasses had been lost in transit. Care-
ful search along my back track failed to show them,
and I got back into camp, hot and disgusted, sure that
my eyes would not be of much use for the rest of the
trip, and said as much to the guides who sat around the
fire. Nobody said anything to speak of, and I did not
even notice one of the Indians slip quietly away a little

138

Newfoundland Guide

ON GUIDES

after; but in about ten minutes he appeared again and
without a word handed me the lost glasses. Now to
find the proverbial needle in the hay stack would not
have been half so difficult as to track me through that
brush and pick that little thing out of its hiding place,
but neither Steve nor his companions seemed to think
the feat at all remarkable.

Guides take great pride in their thorough knowl-
edge of the woods and skill in woodcraft, are very pa-
tient with the tenderfoot who doesn’t pretend to be
anything else, but most contemptuous of sportsman or
guide who pretends to know how, but shows ignorance
or incapacity on trial. On my last Newfoundland trip
one of the guides, a great boaster, lost his way and had
to climb a tree to put himself straight, and the others
ridiculed him unmercifully, and will doubtless keep
him reminded of it as long as he lives. To get good
work from guides, or for that matter from any other
assistants, it has always seemed to me the best method
to give them general directions, let them do the thing
in their own way without interference, and hold them
responsible for results. Make your bargain in ad-
vance, expect and see that you get good service and,
after the work is all done and paid for, if the boys have
done well and you feel like being generous, make them
a free gift of what you think right. The tipping sys-
tem, or extra pay for work that comes within the scope

140

Temagami Guides

ON GUIDES

of regular duty, is likely to be most unsatisfactory. It
is also a mistake for the sportsman to do guides’ work,
except in case of emergency; they will let him do all
of their work he wants to and think the less of him for
doing it.

A guide will highly appreciate skill on the part of
the sportsman with rod, gun or rifle, and is apt to es-
teem him in proportion to the amount displayed. Hav-
ing fished several times last summer at Cascade lake
with a type of the good class of guides, and having cast
the fly with some skill and success, he said with en-
thusiasm to some friends of mine who went there later,
“Mr. Newberry is a fine fisherman and a fine man,”
which was as cordial a testimonial as one is likely to
receive.

It has always seemed to me a mistake to let a guide
carry a gun or rod; there is plenty for them to do in
assisting you, and one rod or rifle can secure all the fish
or game needed, so why deplete the wilderness without
necessity and to your own disadvantage. In big game
shooting especially, if your guide carries a rifle, it is
more than likely that he, and not you, will get the
shots.

One is constantly surprised at the handiness of his
guides under adverse circumstances. I remember once
in the Temagami country starting with two guides to
get to a little lake over a four-mile portage. The trail

142

ON GUIDES

was very rough, the luggage too heavy to take in one
trip, it began to rain very hard, and the dusk caught us
two-thirds over the carry, with half the stuff two miles
back and rain coming down in sheets. The boys
dropped packs where they stood and started back for
the other loads, while I took refuge under a balsam, lit
a cigar and waited more than an hour for them to re-
turn. It was completely dark when their steps were
heard again, and raining as when Noah made his fa-
mous voyage. One of the boys grabbed a bucket and
the other an axe and disappeared into the wet dark,
coming back in a minute or two with some birch bark,
dead wood and a pail of water. In ten minutes a good
fire was blazing just in front of a spread tent fly, and
Steve started his cooking, while Will pitched the tent,
cut balsam brush, shaking off the drops and giving it
a hasty dry over the fire, made my bed, unrolled the
blankets from their waterproof cover, and in an hour
I was snug in dry blankets, with a good supper inside
of me, and lulled gently to sleep by the rain and wind.

143

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Trout I Have Met

HE Eastern brook trout, Sa/velinus
fontinalis, red _ spotted, graceful,
swift, bold and yet shy, pink fleshed
and dainty, was my earliest love and
still remains first in my affection and
esteem. ‘This fish is at his best in the
cold and highly oxygenated water of
rushing mountain streams and, though

he tolerates warmer and stiller water up to a certain
point, such an environment detracts greatly from his
strength and spirit. With the coming of summer he
vanishes from the main streams and seeks spring holes,
the depths of lakes, and any other refuge from the
warmth that he dislikes so much. Under favorable
conditions this trout is the perfection of a game fish,
while under different circumstances he may become
heavy, sluggish, and little better than a chub.

All fish seem to manifest such a variation in char-
acter and conduct according to their environment. The
rainbow trout, Sa/mo trideus, when taken in the cold
water of the Yellowstone, is said to be dull and heavy,
showing little spirit. In the Ausable river of Michi-
gan, in the summer, they are very strong and fierce, but
did not seem to me especially good on the table. In
fact I formed rather an unfavorable opinion of this

145

TROUT I HAVE MET

trout, based of course on limited experience, until a
recent summer, when I met him in favorable sur-
roundings. ‘The west branch of the Ausable river of
New York, passing through Wilmington Notch, drops
eight hundred feet or so in about ten miles, and is rocky,
shaded, clear, almost if not quite perfection. The
stream still contains a remnant of the native fontinalis,
and has been also stocked with irideus and fario. It is
furiously fished by the natives in the spring and early
summer and by July about all the fontinalis seem to
have disappeared. In the swift water of the gorge,
however, there linger a good many rainbows of good
size, and these I had the pleasure of visiting through
August of that year.

This time, place and water seemed to exactly suit
these fish, and better fly fishing I have never had, not
even with grilse. They were very shy, so that one had
to cast a long line and keep out of sight, would rarely
rise a second time, unless one waited five minutes or so
before casting again, as he would for salmon; would
often rise short and settle back without touching the
fly, always so when the sun was on the water. But,
when the conditions were right, when a big fellow did °
come and did really mean it, when the strike told and
the hook set, then look out for squalls. He would dance
on his tail, stand on his head, change ends like a bron-
cho, leap three feet clear and ten feet along, swim up

146

994 STUD YJ —SUDUNUOT

SERA 9

TROUT I HAVE MET

falls and dash down them, head for every rock and
snag in sight, in fact exhaust the category of fishy pyro-
technics. Each of these rainbows would take as long
to kill, and fight at least as hard, as a speckled trout of
twice his size. They were brave and bounding beau-
ties beyond question.

The brown trout, Salmo fario, I did not find in the
gorge at all, but took several good ones in the pools be-
low. They were very shy and cautious, rarely rising
until after sundown, and their play was long and
strong, but heavy, slow and not exciting. Both these
brown and rainbow trout were good on the table,
though inferior to the speckled trout. Their flesh grew
soft noticeably soon, those caught in the morning being
often quite pulpy when dressed at dark, but a little salt
and a night on the ice made them all right.

Salmo purpuratus, the Rocky Mountain or cut-
throat trout, I took in abundance in the mountain
streams of Colorado, mainly in the Yampa river.
They are closely allied to the rainbow and seem to me
very like him, in the water and on the table, but none
that I caught approached the New York rainbows in
strength or activity. My fishing was done in August
and September and they may well have been livelier
early in the season—certainly they were less shy than
jontinalis, for I repeatedly saw a good-sized fellow
swing lazily up from the depths of a pool and take the

148

TROUT I HAVE MET

fly in plain sight of me as I stood on the open bank with-
out cover. These fish did not then lie in the swift water,
but were in the pools near the edge of rapids. At the
bottom of one such still pool I could plainly see two or
three hundred trout, but no amount of casting over the
surface would stir them. So I let my flies sink deep and
could see a trout start up slowly, rise gently for a foot or
so, suck in the fly and turn back, when a twitch hooked
him. Three or four taken in this way exhausted the
vein and no more would stir.

_ For all these trout I used a light leader and No. 10
flies) Abbey, Professor and Montreal for irideus, and
black ant for purpuratus. Small flies are handy to cast
and will hold firmly enough if the rod is managed well.
Bigger flies of course have a stronger hold, but cannot
be cast so accurately, splash more when they strike, are
harder to set, and I think will not generally produce so
full a creel.

Cascade Lake

" pty ON WEL atte Hs
oo oe PGi bee jee ee

Grilse And Other Fish

N A recent issue of Forest and
Stream, Mr. Brown comments on my
little sketch of “Grilse on a Trout
Rod” in such a kindly and sympa-
thetic way as to take any sting out of
his very courteously expressed sugges-
tion, that my reference to trout, bass,
and other fish may be hasty and inac-

curate in substance and unkind in form, and that fur-

ther experience would modify my opinion and lead me
to express it more gently. Differences of opinion must
arise on such matters, and they are too often stated

without Mr. Brown’s charm of manner and feeling. I

am certain that the gentleman is a true fisherman, and

a good one, and, in the name of our sainted Izaak Wal-

ton, I tender him the right hand of fellowship.

The true fisherman reverences and admires all the
finny tribe, sees good in them all, and earnestly seeks
the company of those he may find. He will revel with
salmon, rejoice with trout, be delighted with bass,
and pleased with pike, and, if denied the fairer
and nobler of the race, can take comfort even in catfish.
He will fish wherever and whenever possible and be
happy in doing so; but he may and must have prefer-
ences, and take greater proportionate joy as his quarry

151

GRILSE AND OTHER FISH

displays more and more of the dashing qualities which
the title “game” denotes. John Stuart Mill says that
the price of any commodity is fixed by a combination
of the two factors “value in use and difficulty of attain-
ment,” and in matters of sport the latter element greatly
predominates, for certainly the fact that fish and game
are good on the table has but a very small part in creat-
ing the strong passion that all sportsmen feel for their
pursuit. Hope, uncertainty, surprise, and the full ex-
ercise of all powers of mind and body in the struggle
for success, are surely the main causes for the never
failing charm of angling; fish are esteemed in the rela-
tive proportion in which each variety brings these pas-
sions and these powers into keen and energetic action,
and I know of no form of sport that does this so com-
pletely as fly-fishing.

The value of any fisherman’s opinion as to the
relative merit of the various forms of his cherished
sport must depend on the extent and variety of his ex-
perience, and I see no way of proving that my own has
any worth except that of modestly stating what I have
seen and done. I am a fisherman by inheritance and
family tradition, with a personal experience of over
forty years, during the last thirty of which I have been
devoted to the artificial fly; not that I despise or feel
myself in any way superior to brothers of the angle
who are addicted to other forms of the lure, but that

152

ayid 1G V

GRILSE AND OTHER FISH

the fly suits me best. I have taken thousands of speck-
led trout, from fingerlings up to four pounds, in New
England, the Alleghanies, the Adirondacks, the Rock-
ies, Ontario, Quebec, and elsewhere; have caught pur-
puratus in Colorado, irideus in the West and in Michi-
gan, grayling in the Ausable and Manistee, and small-
mouth bass in countless places, best and largest in the
wild waters around the upper Ottawa. I have trolled
for bluefish outside of Sandy Hook, and caught them,
together with Spanish mackerel and “sea trout,” so-
called, on light tackle in Florida; and last and best of
all, have taken grilse in Newfoundland. Large salmon
are as yet unknown to my personal experience, but, if
all goes as planned, there will be a story to tell about
them next summer.

All this finny prey I esteem and delight in and
hope to meet again and again, and do not love the
others less because I love the salmon more. Each has
its merits and its peculiar charm, but the salmon has the
merits and charms of all the rest and in a higher de-
gree. He is bold and brave as a bass and, like him,
ieaps and surges; wary and wily as a trout and, like
him, dashes and runs; graceful and gay as a grayling,
fierce as a bluefish, and more beautiful than either.
They are the nobles of Piscia and he is its King.

154

Disappointment
Forest and Stream, August 19, 1905.

HAVE always longed to catch a big
salmon, our delightful experience
with Newfoundland grilse in August
of last year much intensifying the de-
sire, and was assured that plenty of
them could be got in the same waters
about July first. So the rather elab-
orate preparations necessary for such

a trip were promptly begun; guides were engaged;

routes and rates decided on and transportation secured ;
supplies ordered from one firm to meet us at

one point, and fishing tackle from another firm at an-
other point, and my son and [I left Cleveland late in

June full of hope and confidence. In fact, some extra

salt was ordered, so that the surplus salmon not used in
camp could be salted and smoked, and we could fish

with clear consciences, certain that none of our catch
would be wasted.

All the preliminaries went so smoothly that we
might well have known that fortune had a bad turn in
store for us at the last. Trains were on time; sleeping
car berths were to be had at the last moment and usu-
ally the last berths; tackle arrived at Port au Basques

155

DISAPPOINTMENT

on time and all right. Fred met us at St. Georges, re-
porting the other guides waiting at Deer lake, and all
the supplies turned up at the last station, as did trunks
and other baggage, without mishap. Then came the
reverse of the medal. I had planned the year before to
fish the Willow Steady pools on the upper Humber,
where my guides had the greatest sport in the previous
season. Now there were still great masses of snow and
ice on the north slope of the Central mountains, the
Humber was in full flood, making a through route to
the headwaters, and there were no fish in the pools
at all.

We decided to try Sandy Lake river, where there
was such good sport with grilse last fall, and got to the
first rapid after two days’ delay. The water there was
at least three feet higher than in the previous August,
the river unrecognizable, and absolutely no salmon to
be found though trout fairly swarmed. ‘Two more
wasted days brought us back to Flat Bay river on the
western side of the island, a fine salmon stream and or-
dinarily most productive, but now very low, with only
a thin sheet of water purling through a waste of bowl-
ders, and so clear that every stone and fish in it was as
plain to our sight as we doubtless were to the latter.
There are two fine pools just above the railway bridge,
one beneath it, and two or three more in the half mile
down to tide water, and these we flogged industriously,

156

: i
ra |

Sea Trout and Brook Trout

DISAPPOINTMENT

getting to the water in the early dawn, taking a long
rest through the bright hours, and then swinging the
rods again until dark, with nothing to show for it all
but a few grilse, a good deal bruised from climbing
over rocks, and an occasional sea trout.

In the lowermost pool were clearly visible ten or a
dozen salmon, running from ten to thirty pounds in
weight, and every now and then one of the big fellows
would roll out on the surface, just to taunt us. Now
and again capricious fancy, or perhaps a change of fly,
would make one rise to a cast, make a great surge in
the water, fill us with hope and then settle back without
atouch. So it went for three days until even my guides
—good sportsmen and law-abiding citizens—began to
drop into lurid language and express unhallowed
wishes for dynamite or a net; but we kept our tempers
pretty well, flogged away with the big rods, fought flies
day and night, and hoped for better things to come.

Now we had an experience of the courtesy of Eng-
lish officers and gentlemen. Our two rods were more
than sufficient for this lower river, and it is not custom-
ary to intrude on a previously established party, but
two or three officers from a gunboat then at St. Georges
came down and camped on the lower pools, flailing
them night and day. We were told they would only
stay for a day or two, so kept away from those pools;
but I strolled down, met one of the party and told him

158

DISAPPOINTMENT

that we were in camp at the bridge and had been fishing
those pools for three days, but would leave them alone
until their party was gone. They expressed regret to
have interfered with us and said they were leaving next
morning. That afternoon, while I was waiting at the
pools above the bridge for the sun to drop a little fur-
ther, one of this party appeared and promptly caught
a grilse out of the pool I was watching. I walked over
there and politely suggested that it was not quite fair,
after we had left them the best pools, for them to also
fish the small and inferior remnant of water in front of
our camp, and this officer declared he had misunder-
stood the matter, apologized and departed, taking with
him the only fish I saw that night. The cap sheaf was
put on, however, when the other two men appeared
early the next afternoon and thrashed those same pools
all over again, to a running accompaniment of curses
from my guides, in which I felt rather inclined to join.

This party left the next day, having taken three
large salmon and a lot of grilse from our pet lower pool,
and we put in a week more hard work over this and the
Red pools, some three miles up the river, without get-
ting hold of a single salmon above five pounds. Then we
both grew so sick, tired and disgusted that we would
not have stayed a day longer for all the fish in New-
foundland, gave it up, scored the trip a failure and
came home. All the way down fishermen fairly

159

DISAPPOINTMENT

swarmed, every available pool, on any river visible
from the train, being occupied by one or more men
wielding big rods, according to general report with
small success.

‘Fishing with the fly” carries two meanings, one
patent to the general public and another which comes
home with particular force to those who have pursued
Salmo salar in his haunts. The lordly salmon selects
for his visits to fresh water the season and the country
in which the insect plague is at its worst, and how bad
this is only experience will teach. Certainly the hordes
of flies that swarmed about us, and made ordinary com-
fort attainable only by constant thought and precaution,
was far beyond my experience or imagination, large as
both of these already were. During the daylight hours,
from five in the morning to eight at night in the north-
ern summer, the black fly swarmed, with a thirst for
gore that made their personal safety a matter of indif-
ference and a persistence that made nets of any kind
nearly useless; coming in millions, creeping like a ser-
pent, biting like a bulldog and entirely indifferent to
being squashed. The cold nights of the north have
caused the mosquito to pretty well abandon the noc-
turnal habits which he displays in softer climates, and
to carry on his pernicious activity regardless of day-
light. Among the trees and bushes they swarm beyond
estimating, but the strong winds that generally blow all

160

DISAPPOINTMENT

day keep them pretty well away from open and exposed
spots, so that a refuge can generally be found where
they are not beyond endurance. They are active until
about nine at night, and start in again with the first
light of morning, when they are at their very worst. A
faint idea of their numbers will be given by the fact
that I once killed twenty-six by a single slap on my
guide’s back as he sat by a salmon pool.

It is difficult to make it clear how great an annoy-
ance the constant plague is. By keeping all exposed
parts well smeared with dope, renewed at intervals of
not more than an hour (we two used nearly a pint of
oil of citronella in eighteen days), and using a little
tent of mosquito netting, well tucked in, to cover the
head and hands at night, one can escape being badly
bitten, but the brutes give you no rest; dressing, wash-
ing, bathing, or anything else that exposes the body is
difficult to effect without suffering acutely, and it re-
quires a great deal of very good sport to make up for
the constant discomfort caused by these wretched
pests. When Moses induced Jehovah to send a plague
of flies upon Egypt he showed an expert knowledge of
the infinitely disagreeable.

In the Sandy Lake stream we found abundance of
bright-colored and active brook trout, so many, in fact,
that catching them was soon not amusing; but during
the first two days on Flat Bay brook saw no trout at all.

161

DISAPPOINTMENT

The third morning a handsome silvery fish took my
salmon fly, and the trout rod took half a dozen more
from the same pool, and after that we generally got
several every morning, which, I suppose, had run in
from salt water the night before. These were the famed
“sea trout,” concerning whose identity with fontinalis
there has been so much controversy. Naturalists, I
think, are now agreed that these are only the common
brook trout gone to sea, and that, after a short stay in
fresh water, they resume the usual appearance of that
fish, but the differences, both in shape and color, are so
great that it is difficult at first to accept this view, cor-
rect as it probably is.

These fresh run fish were deepest in the center of
the body, tapering decidedly toward tail and head, the
latter being triangular with upper and lower lines near-
ly straight and muzzle acute. The back was dark sea-
green without vermiculations or spots, though the dor-
sal and caudal bore some lighter mottling. The sides
showed some greenish shading toward the top, the rest
of the fish being bright silver and the fins streaked with
sea-green. Usually there was no red tinge of any kind,
though a few specimens showed two or three very faint
pinkish spots. The two trout shown in the first photo-
graph were taken at the Red Rock pools, some four
miles up stream, on the same morning, and were of ex-
actly the same length, one being a sea trout and the

162

Sea Trout and Grilse

DISAPPOINTMENT

other a typical brook trout. The former had doubt-
less been in the river for some days and was decidedly
darker than the fresh run specimens taken lower down,
was seventeen and one-half inches long and weighed
two pounds and six ounces. The latter was seventeen
and one-half inches long, weighed two pounds and two
ounces, had the body elongated, the head elliptical with
upper and lower lines strongly curved, and the muzzle
rounded. Back, dark greenish-brown, with prominent
vermicular markings in lighter shade, sides light
brownish-gold with a great number of vivid carmine
and pink spots, belly silvery. Fins edged with white
and balance red with dark streaks. The whole body
was suffused with a strong purplish glow fading to pink
on the belly. This fish had evidently not been in the
salt water that year, if ever.

The second photograph shows the same sea trout
with a grilse caught the same morning. Unfortunate-
ly, the latter was unusually long and gaunt, and there-
fore much less like the trout in shape than most grilse,
but the coloration of the two fish was very similar.
Curiously enough all these sea trout acted like salmon,
taking the fly under water, not one making a clean rise
or more than a mere break on the surface. The one
figured made no splash at all and lay so quiet that I
thought the fly was on a stick and started my guide into
the pool to clear it, when it seemed that the line was

164

DISAPPOINTMENT

moving very slowly up stream. At first I thought this
only the illusion which, when you have been looking
steadily at moving water, makes any fixed object seem
to move in the opposite direction; but in a moment or
two a sudden rush removed any doubt, and it was a
good ten minutes before he came to net. The flesh,
both of the fresh run sea trout and salmon, was deci-
dedly hard, tough and springy under the teeth, so much
so as to make them quite inferior for the table to either
the brook trout or to the grilse taken late in August of
the previous year.

165

pics tat a
OS el ian ot hee od

Some Failures

N TALES of sport one is apt to dwell
on his successes and to pass over the
times when fortune had been adverse,
so that the hearer, if trusting and
credulous, as all hearers ought to be,
must think that the sportsman, once
in the wilderness, is certain to find
game quickly and easily and sure to

kill it when found; so the first experience of a novice

in the field, with its long tramps, days of hard work
without seeing game and incomprehensible misses, is
dreadfully disappointing. The best of us often work
very hard and long without getting a chance, and fail
to improve the chance when it comes; yet there is pleas-
ure in hard work well done even without reward, and
in retrospect both success and failure are pleasant.

Some of the times when my opportunities were not

properly improved are now to be told of.

SOME FAILURES

BEAR.

In the country about Lake Temagami black bear
are quite plentiful and the Indian trappers bring in
many skins every year, but they say that bears are very
rarely seen even where they are most numerous, and
that practically all they get are trapped before being
shot. ‘The Ojibways surround the hunting of ‘““mokwa”’
with ceremonies of a quasi-religious character, one of
which is that the skull must be hung by running water,
and I saw at least forty skulls of bear hanging on small
trees at one point of the Lemabin river, so there must
be a good many about. The only black bear I ever
shot at was on the edge of the Montreal river, a little
way below the Mattawabika falls, the last name
meaning “‘the rocky meeting place of the waters.” We
were traveling up the river in our birches against wind
and current when this bear appeared on the bank, dis-
appeared again, came back and finally climbed out on
a “sweeper,” as dead trees extending out over the water
are called. He was a very big and black fellow and
showed up finely. My rifle was in its case and the case
packed in my war bag, but was finally dragged out,
put together and loaded, with one eye on the bear as he
came and went, evidently seeing us and being very un-
easy but retained by some irresistible attraction, which
afterward proved to be the carcass of a moose caught
in some drift wood. A birch canoe yields to every rip-

168

SOME FAILURES

ple of water or breath of wind and the bead of my
front sight danced wildly about, so I had to pull when
it swung somewhere near his shoulder. At the report
the bear went into the river with a great splash, the
guides sang out, “You’ve got him,” and for a moment
everybody was jubilant. The next instant a black stern
vanished into the bush, throwing a fountain of chips,
grass and leaves behind its frantic clawings, and that
was the last we saw of that bear. A bullet mark in a
cedar trunk showed that I had overshot an inch or so,
which, let us hope, was due to the wabbling of the
canoe, and not to buck fever, if one can use that term
in a wider sense than it literally has. The next time I
will land on the opposite bank, creep up through the
bushes, take a steady rest and get my bear, but that next
time hasn’t come yet.

s
i
.
1

‘

ae eens

ANTELOPE.

California Park, an irregular oval, of about ten
miles by five, covered with thickly growing sage brush
and broken up by ridges, knolls and draws, and abound-
ing in antelope which, as our cook used to say, “pass

169

SOME FAILURES

their time in gettin’ scared and pullin’ their freight,”
lies just below the southern slope of Bear’s Ears peak
in northwestern Colorado, and probably has not
changed in any particular since we hunted there in
1894. There was then no difficulty in finding a band of
from twenty to fifty at any time, but considerable in
getting near enough for a successful shot; for the ante-
lope has wonderful sight and, long before we had seen
them, had ‘“‘counted the buttons on our coats and made
up their minds where to run to next,” as a western au-
thority puts it. Percy and I put in a whole morning
chasing those elusive beasts, who delighted in running
past us at four or five hundred yards and tempting us
to waste cartridges, a practice which had earned them
the name of “the ammunition maker’s friend.”’ Finally,
by making a long trip to a distant ridge, leaving our
horses, crawling to the top and peeping through the
sage, we did get sight of a good band without scaring
them; so made a long detour and crawled some hun-
dred yards through a dry creek bed and to the top of a
little knoll, which I estimated to be about three hun-
dred yards from the game. It did not seem possible to
get nearer and Percy gave me the first chance, so I
hoisted the Lyman sight to what would be somewhere
near proper for the range and took a steady shot at the
neck of the biggest buck. He staggered but did not
fall and we made out through the glasses that his left

170

SOME FAILURES

fore leg was broken close below the body. Ina moment
the band started off to the right with the broken legged
one making good speed along with them. Percy ran
like an antelope, and there is nothing faster, along a
ridge and over a hill, and in a moment two booms of
his big rifle, a double express taking one hundred and
seventy-five grains of powder and six hundred and fifty
of lead, came back to me. He missed clean with both
barrels. Meanwhile another band, which had been in
a draw below and close to us and not seen at all, circled
the knoll I was on and scurried up the opposite hill,
giving a lovely chance at about seventy-five yards. Last
of all was a splendid buck with big and beautiful horns.
I took a dead aim at the shoulder and fired with no ef-
fect; a second shot with equally careful aim was just as
fruitful, and two more were exactly as effective as the
first two. After the band had vanished over the hill,
almost running over Percy and his empty gun, I took
account of stock and realized that I had been shooting
at seventy-five yards, with sights set for three hundred.
Comment is inadequate.

Timid and cautious as he usually is the antelope
sometimes succumbs to his curiosity at a suddenly ap-
pearing or unrecognized object. As we crossed a ridge
after breaking camp and came out from behind a little
fringe of scrub oak, there stood a fine buck within a
hundred and fifty yards and staring fixedly at us. My

171

SOME FAILURES

brother snatched his rifle from the sheath, jumped from
his horse, and fired two shots before he got the range,
but the third ball went clean through the middle of the
buck just back of the shoulder. He gave the unmistak-
able shudder which marks a hit and rushed down the
hill into a maze of scrub filling a little gulch. Our dog
soon routed him out of that and the pair ran like the
wind for more than half a mile, when the buck turned
to bay, fighting off the dog most vigorously while we
were coming up, and only falling when we were quite
close. The body lay in a perfect lake of blood, which
had poured from the double opening through the
center of both lungs made by the forty-five caliber bul-
let. The wound would have brought down an elk with-
in two minutes and a deer in five or less, but that ante-
lope endured it for at least twenty before falling.

Just as we got back to the horses after our fiasco
with the antelope Percy called my attention to what at
first seemed a string of horses, trotting across the park
diagonally toward our right and a mile or so away.

172

SOME FAILURES

The glass showed them to be a band of five cow elk,
with a good stag at the rear of the line and herding his
wives along. Percy set off his broncho at a furious run,
up and down hill through the stiff sage, leaping water-
courses and rocks, and evidently bound to break his
neck or cut off those elk. Such riding over such ground
is not much to my fancy, but I had to keep up with the
procession, so put my heels into my black, yelled to en-
courage him, and away we both went at a fearful pace
over the worst ground possible, taking a diagonal aim
to intersect the course of the game. A mile or so of
such rough riding brought us to a knoll about two hun-
dred yards from the elk and we could evidently get no
nearer, so jumped off our horses and opened fire. As
the first ball struck close to them the band changed
their long swinging trot to a wild gallop and kept this
up till clear out of range, while our big rifles roared
and the bullets knocked up the dust behind, before, be-
yond and between them, in fact about everywhere but
in the right place. The man who can certainly bring
down running game at from two to three hundred
yards is more common in books than in the field, I
think, at all events neither of us could do it that day.

When the echoes quieted down a little we turned
to remount, and there were our two horses, with trail-
ing reins, two hundred yards off and making at a steady
amble for camp, six or seven miles away. I was per-

173

SOME FAILURES

fectly helpless in such an emergency, and should have
had to let the horses go and walk to camp; but Percy,
a very strong man and a determined sort of a fellow,
dropped his gun and ran, shouted, and I fear swore a
little, until somehow or other he managed to check
those abominable beasts and came back leading them
both, thus saving us from a long and hard tramp home.

CARIBOU.

On the first trip to Newfoundland I made the in-
excusable blunder of taking a new rifle into the field
without careful examination of the sights,and of start-
ing out for the first morning’s hunt without testing it.
We ran on to a huge stag, with splendid spreading ant-
lers and a brilliant white neck, within a mile or so of
camp and he gave me a standing broadside shot at
about a hundred and fifty yards. The bullet went three
feet too low, cutting the long grass only half way be-
tween us. The stag jumped off a few feet and stood
again and of course the error was over-corrected and
the second shot too high; the next too low, the fourth
too high again and, becoming weary of the racket, the

174

SOME FAILURES

deer skipped out unhurt. Examination and test showed
a high Lyman front sight with a low buckhorn rear
sight, and that it was necessary to put up the rear sight
three notches to anywhere near equalize the two. Even
then I could not seem to shoot uniformly with it, doubt-
less because my failing eyes could not see the rear sight
distinctly and so get the bead into the right place every
time.

Before the next trip I put a Lyman rear sight on
this gun, and it shot perfectly afterward, but then there
were no gunmakers handy, so we had to adjust the
sights as well as possible and go out with a weapon I
could not be sure of. Three days’search did not develop
any good head, so we moved camp several miles into
an undisturbed region where caribou were very plenty.
The first day out we saw a big-bodied fellow standing
on the sky line of a hill at least a mile away, so far off
that even the glass would not show his head, but his size
showed that he was a good stag. Having worked our
way through the bushes to the edge of a little pond at
the foot of the hill we saw a young stag lying down on a
small ridge close to us, in such a position that he could
not be passed without giving him our wind and prob-
ably frightening both. As we sat on a ledge to consider
matters there was a sudden clatter up the hill, and the
big deer came scurrying down a sort of trail that went
up the breast of the ridge between two knolls. As he

175

SOME FAILURES

passed about a hundred yards off my guide shouted
and the stag stopped dead. I took careful aim at his
shoulder, but shot low and broke his right foreleg well
above the knee. Up the trail he galloped on three legs,
while I fired three more shots without result and, feel-
ing in my pocket for more shells, was horrified to find
that there was just one left, the cartridges not having
been shifted when my coat was changed on starting out.
The stag had not seen us and did not know where to
run to and there was just a chance of saving him with
that one bullet, so we scurried round the lower hill,
keeping just below the crest and watching him through
the bushes. It was pathetic to see the poor beast, in his
pain and perplexity, swinging that shattered leg and
hobbling first in one direction and then in another, till
finally he lay down near a big rock at the crest. We
kept on our circle until the rock was between us and
him, and then crawled up the hill most cautiously,
watching the points of his horns, ready to shoot if he
jumped, and making a study of every foot of progress.
Our silent moccasins made no sound to alarm him, and
I first worked up within fifty yards, then to twenty, and
at last lay on one side of the rock within twenty feet of
the stag on the other. Then my feet came noiselessly
under me and [ stood up ready to shoot. The poor
fellow rolled a terrified eye at me and scrambled to his

170

SOME FAILURES

feet, but of course at that distance one could not miss
and he dropped with my last bullet through his heart.

One with sympathies at all sensitive needs either
the spur of necessity, or the excitement that only in-
experience can bring, to make him eager to kill any-
thing so beautiful and harmless as a deer and blind him
to the suffering he causes. Now that I have good heads
of most of our cervidae, conscience has begun to trouble
me and the brutal side of the sport is growing too prom-
inent for comfort, so my last big game shooting has
probably been done. Fish are not so sensitive, appeal
less to our sympathies, and it is not such dreadfully
hard work to get them, so their pursuit is better suited
to the middle-aged and conscientious, to the first of
which categories I certainly belong and, let us hope, to
the last also.

i. or ri
¢ a) ng

Fish And Game Hogs

HE primal need of living things is a
supply of food which must be ob-
| tained from other living things, so the
chase, first of occupations, is a funda-
"| mental instinct. Joy in pursuit and
| passion for slaughter appear even
among the fishes and reach an appall-
ing development among the carnivora.
It became the chief delight of primitive man and sav-
age, and civilization has only begun to exert a restrain-
ing influence on these basic yearnings. The enormous
bags of driven game made by royalty, the battues of
pheasants in English preserves, the slaughter of our pas-
senger pigeons in their nesting places, the extermination
of the buffalo, all bear witness to the present strength
of these primeval instincts, and the rapid disappear-
ance of fish and game shows their destructive power.
The first game laws had for their purpose to pre-
serve game for a favored class only, prohibiting all
others from taking it, even on lands cultivated by them-
selves, and providing the most cruel penalties for any
violation of their provisions. The need of food, nat-
ural love of sport, and charm of the forbidden, all com-
bined to make the peasantry a class of poachers, and,
still worse, to arouse a hatred and contempt for such

179

FISH AND GAME HOGS

statutes, still surviving as an obstacle to the enforcement
of our present humane and public spirited laws for the
protection of game and fish, which only long time and
laborious education can entirely remove. There is rea-
son to hope that the public will be brought to see the
wisdom of these laws and to insist on their enforce-
ment, before there are no game and fish left to protect,
the change in general feeling and conduct over most of
the country, during the last few years, being already
marked.

However, sportsmen generally are coming to be
governed by rules which have only the sanction of pub-
lic opinion, the penalty of the violation of which is
only the general condemnation of gentlemen and good
fellows. NNo man worthy of the honored name of
sportsman will now shoot a sitting game bird, or
butcher a swimming deer, whether forbidden by law
or not, and the killing of fish or game out of season is
coming to be condemned with almost equal severity.
To limit one’s bag to reasonable size is now both ad-
vocated as a rule and followed as a practice, and those
who refuse to be governed by any such restraint have
come to be designated by the contemptuous and oppro-
brious epithet which heads this chapter.

One who kills more than a reasonable amount of
game, finned, furred or feathered, blunts his own en-
joyment by satiety, cuts off the generations to come,

180

FISH AND GAME HOGS

from which he and others might have sport, develops
in himself that joy in limitless slaughter seen in the
wolf and the savage, rejoices in death and destruction
without reason or justification and sinks back toward
the brute from which man has so slowly and painfully
raised himself. Man must eat, and give death to others
that he may do so, and he may properly rejoice in try-
ing to the utmost limit both mind and body in the pur-
suit of his quarry; but, as the human race rises to higher
planes of development, pity and mercy modify our
beast inheritance of cruelty, and reason limits passion
and appetite, so that now we feel that unnecessary and
malicious slaughter is the mark of devils and not of
men.

The rule of moderation in sport must be first based
on the economic motive of preventing the diminution
of game and the consequent destruction of a valuable
provision for the future. Moral or sentimental reasons
give an additional sanction, like the satisfaction
that one gets from personal honesty, which is added to
the actual gain which that quality seems to bring in the
long run. Whether a given bag causes an unreasonable
lessening of future generations must depend on the cir-
cumstances of each particular case. There:are lakes in
Northern Canada into which a line does not fall more
than once a year, stocked with bass or trout up to the
limit that the waters can support, and kept down only

181

FISH AND GAME HOGS

by cannibalism among themselves. There to catch off
a lot of the big fellows merely gives more little ones a
chance to reach maturity. On such waters restraint
from economic reasons alone is insufficient, and one
must call on other principles, such as unwillingness to
take life without good and sufficient cause, hatred of
waste, pity and mercy, to control one’s conduct. ‘The
fact that a convenient lumbercamp or Indian village
enables one to dispose of a large bag, without waste,
might in the northern wilderness be entirely sufficient
to justify the taking of such an amount of fish or game
as could never be approved in a more settled region.
Unrestrained fishing would quickly deplete our fresh
waters, which are of limited extent, while it might have
no effect whatever in diminishing the swarming multi-
tudes of the ocean. One who has seen the myriads of
the Florida reef, preying on each other and so making
room for the survivors to swim, realizes that in the
ocean all that man can do in the way of destruction is as
nothing to nature’s other forces of slaughter. What
fish one takes are only so many less to eat smaller fish,
and be in turn eaten by bigger ones. One may there
allow himself say a single day in which to catch as
many big, carnivorous, rapacious destroyers as he can,
whether he can use all the catch or not, and may do it
again if a fleet of spongers, or a railway construction
gang, are near enough so that the fish will not be

182

FISH AND GAME HOGS

wasted. Except in such an abnormal case I have always
governed my own conduct, even in the wildest country,
by the rule of taking no more game or fish than my
party could reasonably use, and have found this method
of regulating the bag, easy, simple, and satisfactory,
while in more settled country my limit is always put
far short of that allowable in the wilds. In big game
shooting some waste is unavoidable, for a very few
good heads are accompanied by an amount of meat that
no ordinary party can possibly consume.

The late editor of one of our magazines, devoted
to sport, was so strongly in favor of game preservation
as to have, at times, gone beyond the bounds of good
sense in his ideas and of good manners in their expres-
sion. By unassisted wisdom he determined just how
many of each particular kind of game or fish one man
should take in one day, announcing his decision, ex
cathedra, without allowance for different conditions or
circumstances, evidently feeling and almost saying that
any question of his dictum was blasphemy and any vio-
lation of his order a crime. Such ill-regulated think-
ing and writing is to be deplored, both as a painful ex-
hibition of unrestrained passion, and as checking the
growing tendency toward reason and moderation in
sport through, often, by denunciation for which there is
no sufficient cause, arousing antagonism and resent-

183

FISH AND GAME HOGS

ment. Fortunately this gentleman’s journalistic
tivity has now ceased.

184

Other Fish On The Fly

HE delicacy of the appliances used,
the convenience of having everything
needed immediately accessible, the
stimulating shock to the nerves when
a great fish bursts out of quiet water,
the freedom from the necessity of
hunting for bait, keeping it alive in
transport and use, and handling what

is likely to be wet, slimy, squashy and otherwise dis-
gusting, are all very strong reasons for preferring fly
fishing to the use of bait; but mv own very great pref-
erence for the former comes, J think, chiefly from the
fact that there is so much room for improving one’s
ability in the art and gradual progress toward perfec-
tion, which is of course never reached. Fish may often
be taken with the fly at times and places where no other
method will be nearly so effective, or perhaps success-
ful at all, so the acquirement of this talent is likely to
much extend the true fisherman’s opportunities for
happiness.

The salmonidae are so far the usual object pur-
sued in fly fishing that the term has become associated
with them, and one generally thinks of this form of
sport as referring to trout or salmon only. Nearly all
fish of predatory and active habit may, however, be

)

———
————
.

;
vim

i
FY

185

OTHER FISH ON THE FLY

taken with the artificial fly, if time and place be favor-
able, and very good fun may be had with fly tackle,
where the sa/monidae do not exist, if the fisherman will
make a study of local conditions. We have all heard
that black bass will take the fly, but few of us, I think,
have often seen them do so; in my own experience bass
would not often rise at all and, even when they could
be induced to do it, much greater success was obtained
by trolling with the flies or, still better, a small, bright
spinner with a red fly attached to it. With this rig one
can have as good bass fishing in the wild and unfished
lakes of the Temagami country as could possibly be
wished for, and these bass were a revelation to me of
how big a fight a bass could put up. On Bear Lake 1
began by putting out two light rods, one armed with a
small cyclone spinner and red fly and the other with a
white casting spoon, and inside of two minutes had a
three pounder on each rod at the same time. Of course
there was nothing to do but to wedge one rod between
my knees and attend to the other, but both fish proved
to be well hooked and, after the first was landed, the
second was still there and was boated in his turn. [
used only one rod after that and it would in an hour
supply all the fish we could possibly use in a day, so
our fishing each day was short.

In the early spring small lake trout have occa-
sionally risen to my flies when casting for fontinalis,

186

PSRs VaR
See edhe Say

csr)

Lake and Speckled Trout

OTHER FISH ON THE FLY

and been supposed to be the latter until the forked tail
showed the difference, but this degenerate member of a
noble family is apt to stick to the depths at most times.
Toward the end of September they come onto the shal-
lows and offer pretty good sport to light trolling tackle,
but at best they are rather sluggish fish and fight more
like a pike than a trout. In ‘Temagami they abound
and on account of their large size and great numbers
fishing for them is fairly amusing, especially as the
Indians at Bear Island are always glad of any that can
be spared, and so one can catch a good many without
pricks of conscience.

Pike will occasionally take the fly. I have caught
only small ones in that way myself, but saw a twelve-
pounder taken on a large scarlet ibis at Meacham Lake
last spring. Walleyed pike have taken the fly for me
in the rapids of the upper Ottawa, but the spinner was
much more attractive to them. Yellow perch prefer
the minnow or other bait, but I have seen them strike at
flies and be caught on them. Spotted weakfish, small
bluefish and Spanish mackerel can be caught in great
numbers in Biscayne Bay and other Florida waters on
mullet bait, spoon or artificial minnow, and the fly will
take them sometimes. Doubtless persistent trial would
prove that many salt water fish could be caught in the
latter way also.

The beautiful and active white bass of the great

188

OTHER FISH ON THE FLY

lakes will rise boldly to the fly and give excellent sport,
at favorable places and times. ‘They seem to always
travel in schools and to actively compete among them-
selves for anything that looks like food. Any good-
sized, noticeable fly seems to be effective, the plain or
1oyal coachman on a number four hook having given
me the best results. To get good fly fishing for white
bass one should find a place where the water is clear
and moving in a current and try for them there in July
or August. An ideal place is at the trestle work open-
ings in the great embankment of the Lake Shore rail-
way crossing Sandusky bay. Here the local fishermen
gather in the summer days and I have often tried my
flies against their bait and found the fly beat the bait
many times over. If two or more flies are rigged on
the leader the first bass that strikes will tow the other
flies around and pretty certainly catch for you another
bass on each. When the water happens to be really
clear, which unfortunately is seldom, the white bass
can be seen dashing back and forth like a school of
mackerel, and one can take as many as he will permit
himself to. With their silvery scales crossed by a few
narrow purple lines they are very handsome to the eye,
and will be found, without the scales, equally satisfac-
tory on the table. :

Peed ‘gt MLN wa ey

NO abe EY i

Various Small Game

WESTERN TEXAS.

OME interests in El Paso caused me to
spend several weeks in that city for a
number of successive years around
eighteen hundred and ninety and I
always managed to work in some
shooting in the intervals of business.
This western part of the State, ex-
tending eastward to beyond the Pecos

river, is an arid wilderness, and to eastern eyes seems

at first view absolutely incapable of supporting life of
any kind. The valleys are broad plains, dotted with
greasewood, cactus and stunted yucca, bordered by bare
and rugged masses of mountain many miles off, and
with a dry stream bed near the center fringed with

thorny mesquite and tornillo. The sun glares out of a

cloudless sky, little whirlwinds carry pillars of dust
over the plain, and the country seems to all deserve

the name given to a part of the great cattle trail from

El Paso north, “Jornada del Muerte,” the Passage of

Death.

Later one learns what wonders have been accom-
plished by irrigation, and how a constant artificial sup-
ply of water will make this apparently barren soil yield
crops which, in quality and quantity, far exceed any

IQI

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

that the most fertile eastern soil can produce, but still
cone must realize that the available water is very lim-
ited in quantity, that it can be supplied only to a part
of the low lands immediately surrounding the streams,
and that nine-tenths or more of the country must always
remain desert. At noon everything is blank and bleak
under the pitiless hard light, but in the evening and
morning the barren mountains become rich masses of
color and shadow, at night the stars blaze with a bril-
liance and splendor never known in the north, and one
comes to feel that even the desert has its peculiar and
powerful charm.

Through the city of El Paso runs the channel of
the Rio Grande river, a stream with many peculiari-
ties. Its great length and prominence as the southern
boundary of the United States for many hundred miles,
during the days of classes in geography made me think
of it as comparable in size and importance to the Mis-
sissippi or Ohio, and it was rather a shock to find it just
about so wide that an active boy could chuck a stone
over it, and knee deep at most. It is smaller at El Paso
than five hundred miles further up—evaporation and
irrigation drawing on its waters and there being prac-
tically no inflow after leaving the mountain country,
and is higher in early summer, when the snows on the
mountains melt, than at any other time. Of late irriga-

192

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

tion has increased so that all the flow is absorbed and
to see any water in the channel at El Paso is unusual.
Mountain sheep are not uncommon in the Sacra-
mento mountains and other ranges, and I once saw four
brought in, of which two were rams with very fair
heads. Black tail deer, bear and wolves are also re-
ported to be rather plenty; but I could never during
my stay spend the time necessary for an expedition after
such big game, and hunted only the small feather and
fur. The valley quail, with its beautiful plumage of
blue, cinnamon and slate and its dainty black head tuft,
abounds along the river bottom and would give most
excellent sport were it not for its abominable propensity
tor running. It is useless to walk after these birds, for
they will travel a good deal faster than you can, and
when a flock is located one must run up at once, trusting
that the flock will rise and scatter when they settle, after
which they will lie even more closely than the northern
quail. When kicked up they fly rapidly and one must
shoot straight and use fine shot, for a wounded bird is
practically sure to run, hide and be lost, and only those
kiltedweare saved:. Over the Sierra Blanca east of
El Paso, where the railway passes at an elevation of
something above six thousand feet, the mountain quail
takes the place of its cousin, being the same in size and
habits, but clothed in slate-color, brown and white, and
with a crest like that of a blue jay or cardinal gros-

193

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

beak. The common wild dove feeds in great numbers
in the big tracts of wild sunflower found all over the
low lands, gives really very good shooting and large
bags, and is liked on the table by those who care for
the flavor of the pigeon, of whom I am not one. Ifa
flock is driven out of a sunflower bed the birds will gen-
erally return one by one and furnish very pretty wing
shots.

The Texas cotton tail rabbit is a pygmy, a full
grown one seldom exceeding nine inches from nose to
tail. The flesh is very white and delicate, all the
chicken pies, salads and curries of that country being
made from rabbit as a matter of course, and being most
excellent. The little bunnies dodge about among the
greasewood and mesquite and afford capital snap
shooting as they dash from one cover to another. The
big blacktailed jack rabbit is also abundant, but seems
to be shot only to protect the crops and never eaten.
To knock over a jack crossing you at full speed one
must allow at least six feet at fifty yards range, besides
considering his up and down orbit also, so such shots
are not so easy as one thinks. I lugged my first jack, ten
pounds at least, some two miles under a hot sun, only
to be laughed at when he was shown up.

Wild geese and ducks are said to be plenty along
the Rio Grande at certain seasons, but they did not
come my way.

1G4

Blacktail Buckh—2

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

LAKE ERIE MARSHES.

Extending from Sandusky Bay westward the
shores of Lake Erie and its bays are often bordered by
extensive marshes, and these form a halting place for
great flocks of migrating waterfowl, which feed on the
wild celery and stay for some little time before starting
on again. Most of these marshes are controlled by pri-
vate shooting clubs which have put up comfortable
houses and maintain an elaborate plant of men, boats
and other necessaries for the shooting, as well as a force
of keepers, wardens and lawyers, to keep off trespassers
and carry on the continual legal fight which 1s essential
to preserve any rights at all to their own property.

Fall duck shooting always involves a lot of hard
work and a good deal of exposure, but these clubs have
eliminated the disagreeables as far as possible, and one
does his shooting with all the modern improvements
and with surprising comfort. The boats used are small,
double ended and flat bottomed, and the sportsman sits
facing forward near the center, with his guns in racks
on each side and his box of shells under the seat. The
punter stands erect in the stern and manipulates a ten-
foot pole with a paddle blade, in the use of which these
men are very expert. Narrow and winding channels
twist through the reeds and rushes, opening out here
and there into little ponds or sloughs, and in the very
early dawn each boat will disappear into one of these,

106

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

pole, shove and drag until a satisfactory place is
reached, and then build a blind, put out decoys and, if
all goes well, accumulate a fine bag. The punter shoves
the boat, makes the blind, arranges the decoys, and
wades through the mud after the game, so the hunter
generally has only to keep warm over his boat stove
and shoot straight. A shift of wind, however, may
change the level of water a foot or two and, should such
a drop catch him well back in the swamp, he must get
out the best way he can, perhaps wading for miles
through fathomless mud and dragging his boat at that.
It is impossible to realize what hard work such a tramp
is until you try it. Each leg sinks to or above the knee
at every step, and it takes all one’s strength to pull it
out, and twenty steps would make it necessary for me
to stop and puff.

Swans and wild geese generally keep to the open
water and do not come near the marshes; canvas backs,
red heads and blue bills also prefer the open, but can
be decoyed to the points facing the wider water or to
the scattered reedy islets which are farthest out. Teal,
mallard, widgeon and others go deeper into the swamp,
as do coots, gallinules, rail and other waders. On ac-
count of the long shots, the strength of the birds them-
selves, and the number of cripples which must be
stopped or lost, this sport is a great consumer of cart-
ridges. At the end of a week I usually find that from

197

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

four to five shells have been expended for each duck
actually bagged, while in quail shooting one bird for
each two shells was a fairly good average result.

NORTH CAROLINA MOUNTAINS.

In 1887 a severe accidental injury made it neces-
sary for me to give up work for more than a year and
spend the winter in a comparatively mild climate, and
by the doctor’s orders most of this time was spent
among the southern mountains around Asheville. This
country contains bear, deer and wild turkeys, though
not in great numbers, and the mountaineers, who are
very reluctant to do real work that pays, will take un-
heard of trouble after game, so do not leave much large
game for the visitor. Fortunately these people gener-
ally have neither the skill nor the guns necessary for
wing shooting, so the quail do not greatly suffer from
them and their pursuit was my principal amusement
during this enforced vacation. Quail are very numer-
ous in the cultivated fields along the narrow valleys and
one’s first shot is generally in the open; but they are apt
to fly at once to the brush and forest covered hillsides,
after which one has strictly snap shooting at single
birds, in which for some unknown reason I can do bet-
ter than in the more open style. Certainly if you catch
a bird’s line through the thickets, toss up the gun and
shoot without conscious aim, and then find your bird
stone dead when you peep around the corner, the grati-

198

Whitetail Buck—3

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

fication is far more keen than that given by an easier
shot.

The open season then extended from October to
April. In the fall the coveys often contained up to
thirty birds and occasionally we found packs of nearly
a hundred, several coveys having evidently joined to-
gether. The birds were then quite tame and their
flights short and a daily bag of thirty or forty per gun
was not unusually large. Later in the season the coveys
were thinned out, the birds much stronger and more
wary,—their flights often being half a mile or more—
and a dozen or fifteen birds to a gun was a good day’s
result. Starting a covey and taking toll from it on one
day we could be pretty sure to find the survivors in
about the same place on coming back there the week
after, a brood evidently sticking pretty closely to the
neighborhood where it was born.

All through the south good saddle horses can be
had for hire at very reasonable rates, so we used to start
out in the saddle, ride five to ten miles, put up or hitch
the horses, shoot in that neighborhood and then ride
home; but we grew lazier with experience and would
first ride from place to place, dismounting and hunting
likely fields; then we came to following the dogs on
horseback, dismounting only when the birds were
found, and finally tried on several occasions to shoot
from the horses’ backs, this last experiment being indif-

200

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

ferently successful, not that the horses minded it much,
but one’s movements were too much hampered for good
shooting. The quail were not alarmed by the horses so
as to rise at first, but would scramble along through the
grass for some distance, being in plain sight all the
time, which IJ have never seen when on foot.

COAST OF MASSACHUSETTS.

In the fall the scoters and other sea ducks migrate
southward, following the general line of the coast and
crossing from headland to headland, and every year
some of us would try to get away from college duties at
Cambridge for a day or two with the “coots,” our
favorite ground being at Manomet point, a bold head-
land some miles south of Plymouth. The hunters get
out long before dawn and anchor their dories about a
hundred yards apart and in a line extending straight
out to sea for a mile or more, later arrivals often form-
ing a second and even a third line to the southward, the
lines being about two hundred yards apart. The flocks
come down from the north flying close to the surface of
the water, and seem to often take the boats for rocks and
come right over them, when you must wait till the birds
have passed and shoot from behind, for experts say that
shot will glance from their feathers if it strikes them
head on. Only too often, however, a flock will take the
alarm, swing out to sea and circle the further boat well
out of shot.

201

VARIOUS SMALL GAME

These birds are very hard shelled and need a
mighty blow to bring them down. I used a number
eight bore, with five drams of powder and an ounce
and a half of number one shot, and it was none too pow-
erful. Plenty of times, especially when a big loon came
down with the ducks, one would hear the shot strike as
if he had shot a barn, but the big fellow would give a
little jerk and go sublimely on, or possibly set his wings
and strike the water a mile away and far out of reach.
The ducks are very dark in flesh, strong and fishy and
of little use on the table to a cultivated taste, but the
sport is amusing and the natives are glad to use the
game.

The Florida Keys

ROM Miami to Key West and beyond
extends a shallow sea dotted with
small and large islets. Toward the
north and west these are little but
mud, mangroves and mosquitoes, but
toward the east and south they often
show white beaches of coral sand and
sometimes a little soil capable of culti-

vation, while cocoanut palms are not infrequent. The

belt of isles is from ten to forty miles in width, and
around the inner ones stretch wide sounds of shallow
water and broad flats of sand or mud barely covered by
the tide. Between the outer keys are frequent channels
called creeks, through which the tide ebbs and flows,
and beyond the outer line on the east coast is a belt of
shoal water from three to five miles wide extending to
the Florida Reef, from which the bottom plunges
downward rapidly to the channel of the great Gulf

Stream. On the west coast the water is shoal all

through the Bay of Florida, deepening gradually to-

ward the Gulf of Mexico. The whole region naturally
divides itself into two districts, the “east coast” and

“west coast,” as they are commonly distinguished, the

territory between the keys being rather similar to and

generally included with the latter. These two districts

203

THE FLORIDA KEYS

differ considerably in the character of their waters and
the inhabitants thereof, the east coast being washed by
water of crystal clearness, peopled by the Spanish
mackerel, kingfish, barracuda, amberjack, and others
that more rarely appear on the western shore, while the
waters of the west coast are more cloudy, and inhabited
by the great rays, the sawfish, the sheepshead and the
drums, gray and red. The tarpon frequents both coasts,
but appears earlier and is, I think, more numerous on
the west side, while sharks are common everywhere.
The eastern fish and fishing have been most fully
and carefully described by Mr. W. H. Gregg in his ad-
mirable work, ‘“‘When, Where and How to Catch Fish
cn the East Coast of Florida,” and Mr. Chaser.
Holder, in his fascinating volume, “The Big Game
Fishes of the United States,” has written most exhaust-
ively and lovingly of the principal tenants of both dis-
tricts. Anyone contemplating a fishing trip to Florida
will find these two books give abundant information as
well as the keenest pleasure. My own experience is
limited to a little fishing near Miami a year or two ago,
and a month’s cruise of very recent date; in which last
I saw and fished most of the country, but at an unfavor-
able season and with unusually bad weather. Still we
succeeded in taking forty species in all, including most
of the principal fishes of both coasts, with the unfortu-
nate exception of the tarpon, for which we were far

204

A Grouper

THE FLORIDA KEYS

too early, having started our cruise in the middle of
January and ended it half way through the following
month.

To get the best results the northern fisherman
might leave Miami about the middle of March,
spend two weeks on the east coast, and reach Marco or
Punta Rassa about April 1, by which time he ought
to find tarpon. Doing this he is not likely to meet
with many “northers,” which put an end to all
fishing while they blow, and still will be early enough
to escape any great heat and the worst of the flies, which
last are present in places favorable for them at all sea-
sons, but are not very bad until spring, when the west
coast is said to be almost intolerable, and even the more
favored east is not free from the scourge.

In part from my own limited experience, but
mainly from the evidence of my guides, I think there is
really nothing especially desirable in the way of rod-
fishing in the west except for the tarpon; but, should the
fisherman succumb to the attractions of the chase with
the spear, as he is likely to do after the first trial, this
district is the better for it.

In the excessively clear waters of the east, fish have
every opportunity to see the angler and his line, and
they do not fail to make the most of them. As a conse-
quence nearly all are extremely shy and madden one
by the calmest indifference to the most seductive baits.

206

THE FLORIDA KEYS

To obtain success one must get his bait to the fish
while himself at a considerable distance, and this
must be done either by trolling or by making a long
cast or letting the sinker run down with the tide, and
the bait lie on the bottom until a fish strikes. Of course
a running sinker must be used, so that the lightest nibble
can be felt. If these fish were surface feeders, one
could have ideal sport with the fly, and I understand
that this has been successfully tried by one or two
anglers when fishing in shallow waters. There seem to
be few large flies in the country, and the fish live on
minnows or crustaceans, so the fly is not offered to them
as a fly, but as a strange, moving, and therefore living,
object, which is presented and snatched away until a
rush is made at it and the unwise investigator is hooked
in consequence. Mr. Dimmock, whom I met at Marco,
and who has done wonders with the camera and with
the spear, tells me that he has had excellent sport with
channel bass and small tarpon by using the fly in this
manner.

In the channels between the keys fishing is greatly
dependent on the state of the tide, as fish seem to travel
back and forth with the currents while feeding, and
when the tide is running strongly it is very difficult to
feel the delicate nibble, which is usually all that is
given. Slack water and the hour or so preceding and
following it is the favorable period, and if fish are not

207

THE FLORIDA KEYS

taken then you had better try some other place. On the
outer reef this is not so much the case, and one can often
find success at any stage of the tide. Florida fish are,
however, very freaky and uncertain, like most other
fish, and often choose their time for biting and for re-
fusing to do so without apparent reason; but patience
and diligence will bring success in the South as in the
North.

As most of these fish are bottom feeders, a pretty
heavy sinker is usually necessary for still-fishing, and
this dead weight is of course a nuisance in fishing and
a great hindrance and disadvantage in playing a fish
when hooked. In the channels and shoal water one can
generally use moderately light tackle, though it is al-
ways possible that you may hook something large
enough to endanger your rig. On the reef to use light
tackle is to court disaster, as you are practically certain
to strike a monster that even the heaviest rig will barely
save. At Alligator Reef my companion had his line
broken twice, and twice had the full two hundred yards
carried away by some irresistible power. Having
never before used a tarpon rod or a twenty-one thread
line, I grew to think them equal to any strain that could
be exerted, so twice had the line broken at the leader
knot through holding big amberjacks too tight, and,
having hooked two big sharks while trolling for king-

208

Hynntis Cubensis

THE FLORIDA KEYS

fish, succeeded in both cases in breaking the line with-
out losing much, more by good luck than by any skill.
Some months ago Mr. L. F. Brown asked me to
join in a discussion as to whether fresh or salt water
fish were the stronger. Having then had but little salt
water experience, I did not feel qualified to express an
opinion. Now, however, my conviction is fixed beyond
shaking that the salt water fish, weight for weight, is
greatly the more powerful. No one who has seen the
rushes and leaps of a barracuda, felt the mighty surges
of an amberjack or the wild dashes of a kingfish, can
for a moment doubt that to any of these the heaviest
salmon tackle would be as a thread of gossamer. Using
a twenty-four-ounce six-foot tarpon rod and a multi-
plier holding two hundred yards of twenty-one thread
line (tested to a dead pull of forty-two pounds), and
equipped with a pad brake, I have repeatedly had more
than a hundred yards torn from the reel, in spite of the
greatest pressure that my thumb on the brake and my
gloved left hand clasped around line and rod, could
possibly exert, by fish that proved when gaffed to weigh
only twenty pounds or thereabout. After playing and
landing my largest amberfish—four feet long and
weighing forty-five pounds—my left arm at the elbow
ached very sharply, and I actually had to rest for ten
minutes before daring to risk it in another such strug-
gle. Our fishing was done from a big launch and was

210

THE FLORIDA KEYS

difficult in consequence; it would have been much eas-
ier if done from small boats which the fish could tow.

I had with me a light steel bait rod which had
handled very many large black bass and lake trout in
the Temagami country, and used this rod whenever it
was reasonably safe to do so, taking on it numerous
sheepsheads, channel bass, bluefish, Spanish mackerel,
groupers, jacks, runners and other fish, weighing from
one to five pounds. The sheepshead and channel bass
were certainly less vigorous and persistent in play than
our brave small mouth black bass, but the bluefish,
mackerel, and especially the runners and jacks, were
very much stronger, pulling much harder and fighting
more fiercely and longer than any bass of equal weight
that has had a discussion with me.

The play of the great pelagic fishes caught on or
outside the reef is interestingly different. The barra-
cuda, sabre-toothed and pike-like, makes fierce and
long side runs, and often leaps repeatedly clear from
the water; the kingfish, splendid in blue and silver and
iridescent with pink and purple, takes the bait with a
rush that often carries him ten feet clear of the waves,
the squid in his jaws, and then dashes wildly from side
to side, away, down, up and everywhere. The amber-
jack does not leap, but marches away with a force that
nothing seems able to check, utterly refuses to yield to
pressure, never seems to tire, and is of all fish I have

2II

THE FLORIDA KEYS

met, the one that fights longest and steadiest, with a
fund of reserve power that it seems impossible to ex-
haust. ‘The huge grouper, battleship of fishes, resists
heavily and immovably, and is only too apt to get into
a rock hole and leave you trying to lift the State of
Florida.

Since returning, many have asked me, “Will not
your experience with these great and powerful fish
make your beloved trout seem small and uninterest-
ing?” To which I answer, “A thousand times no! It
has been wonderful fishing, a very interesting experi-
ence, and one to be remembered with great pleasure,
but I don’t care much to repeat it. The tackle is too
heavy, the work too hard, and the fish too many and too
big. Far preferable to any of these splendid fish is
fontinalis, with his personal beauty, wiliness and wari-
ness, lovely surroundings, and the delicate tackle which
must be used to ensnare him. As gossamer gut is to
piano wire, as the finest silk line is to heavy linen, as a
number twelve hook is to a ten-naught, as a tiny artifi-
cial fly is to a five-inch block tin squid, so is the pursuit
of fontinalis a finer, more delicate and more attractive
sport than any that Florida has shown me. The south-
ern fish are magnificent, superb, in all ways admirable;
but the heavy tackle which must be used in taking them
robs the sport of much of its charm. If Florida ever
sees me again, it will be that I may once more use the
spear, not the rod.”

Log Of The Mystery

BASOLENE cabin launch “Mystery,”
forty-two feet long, eleven feet beam,
twenty-horsepower gasolene engine,
sloop rigged, chartered by Trask and
Newberry, of Cleveland, Ohio, for a
month’s cruise from Miami to Punta
Rassa, via the Keys of Florida.

Charles R. Meloy, owner, captain
and cook, thirty-five years old, born in New Haven,
Conn., tall and strong, has been prize-fighter, railroad
man, and now owns the ‘“‘Mystery” and charters her to
fishermen.

Captain John R. Roberts, pilot, forty years old,
born in Wisconsin, a gentleman by birth and training,
handsome, agreeable, with property enough to support
him comfortably. Has been in the United States Vol-
unteer Army in the Philippines and got a captain’s
commission there at close of war. Traveled over most
of the world, now makes his home in Miami and fishes,
shoots and guides as part business and part amusement.

Walter Jenkins, assistant engineer, deck hand, gen-
eral utility, “cracker” by birth and education. Sixteen
years old, tall and thin, smokes cigarettes all the time.
A well-intentioned boy, but apt to forget things and be
picturesquely cursed by the captain in consequence.

213

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

Trask, general agent of a big insurance company,
short, stout and jolly.

Newberry, lawyer and manufacturer, tall, thin,
and the keeper of this log.

Monday, January 16.—Sailed from Miami one
P. M. High north wind; bright sun; trolled down Bis-
cayne Bay without results. Went aground at mouth
Cesar’s Creek, twenty-four miles south from Miami,
about five P. M., on a falling tide. Stuck there all
night.

Tuesday, January 17.—Cold north wind; rainy,
got off ground about six o’clock with great difficulty;
anchored in Cesar’s Creek for breakfast; went after
crawfish for bait and the table in a branch creek; got a
lot of them with the spear, weighing up to five pounds
each. Very good sport and food, tasting like lobster.
Found a school of silver moonfish up the creek, and
secured seven by casting the spear; the most beautiful
fish I have ever seen. One twelve inches long and ten
inches across, was three-quarters of an inch thick, and
all shining like mother of pearl and silver. Caught a
few grunts in channel late in the afternoon—very good
on table.

Wednesday, January 18.—Sunny; northeast wind.
Caught a parrot fish and a grunt from the anchorage.
Moved up creek again. Speared crawfish and moon-
fish. Tied up to mangroves, where water was about

214

14917 400d yy IY 42102

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

twelve feet deep and perfectly clear. Many blue and
yellow angelfish and snappers visible, but they would
not bite. A large school of salt water chub in a cave
under the bank. Caught a dozen of them about two
pounds each with light rod, small hook and a very small
bait; very active and strong fish, and interesting fish-
ing, as one had to strike when the fish darted at the bait,
which would be taken off before the bite could be felt.

Thursday, January 19.—Warmer; showers; wind
east. Down channel and outside keys to Angelfish
Creek. Caught a few grunts. After lunch ran up
through creek and down inside keys to Steamboat
Creek. Fished there for snapper; caught one and two
little sand perch. At five ran down creek and anchored
outside. Fished for snapper at mouth of creek. Mos-
quitoes fearful. Trask caught three snappers, small,
and then hooked a four-foot stingray, which towed him
round awhile and was led out into the bay. We got
gaff and grains; Roberts grained him, the hook giving
way then. I gaffed him, and we both towed him to the
boat. Captain grained him again. Walter broke the
barbed lance in his tail with an oar, and we hoisted him
on deck. Estimated weight eighty pounds, dark olive
back, white below. Slept in bay that night; no flies;
fair night.

Friday, January 20.—Wind, west, light; bright
and warm. Back to Angelfish Creek. Down outside to

216

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

Indian Key, about thirty miles south of Angelfish.
Rigged tarpon rods and wire leaders for expected big
barracuda. ‘Trolled down, some strikes from mack-
erel; no fish. Anchored one-quarter mile north of In-
dian Key. Caught abundance of runners (or hard
tail), snappers, grunts, a yellow tail and fifteen or
twenty of the curious “half-beak’’—a silvery fish from
ten inches to fifteen inches long, about one inch deep,
tail with lower blade the longer, and a long protrusion
of the lower jaw making a three-inch or four-inch
beak, the upper jaw short. These swim in schools near
the surface, and take very gently a small hook with
piece of crawfish about half an inch square. Very
lively, but too small to give sport. A four-foot shark
made a dash at one of my hooked fish, and nearly got
him.

Saturday, January 21.—North wind; fresh; cool.
Landed on Indian Key, shot two doves and could not
find them. Tried to catch groupers in rock holes along
shore. Saw some of five to eight pounds, but couldn't
get them to bite. Caught some small porgies and
grunts off the cay. Moved to our last night’s anchor-
age. No fish but a school of half-beaks. Caught eight
with one bait. Later got several good mutton fish, run-
ners, etc. Fish bit for last part of ebb tide only. I fell
backward from the after deck into the cockpit, camp-

217

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

stool and all. Ought to have broken my neck, but got
off with a scare and a few strains.

Sunday, January 22.—Wind, north, light, falling
to almost nothing; warm and pleasant. Up at five-
thirty; breakfast. To Alligator Reef Light, three miles
southeast. Trolled around light with tarpon rod, reel
and line, piano wire leaders, ten-naught hooks and six-
inch bait, pork rind or fish. Caught twenty-one barra-
cuda, from ten to thirty pounds, five amberfish from
twenty-five to sixty pounds, five groupers from ten to
seventy-five pounds, two Spanish mackerel eight pounds
each. Lost a good many fish and several hooks and lead-
ers. Perfectly wonderful sport. Very gamy and strong
fish, especially the amberjack, which, in sustained
power, excels every fish I have known, weight for
weight. Is first cousin to the California “yellow-tail.”
The work very hard, and after each big fish was gafted,
one wanted to sit down and gasp, and rub his aching
muscles. I was astonished at the strength of the tackle,
and got to think it would hold anything, so lost two big
amberjacks by holding them too tight and breaking my
line at the leader knot. A hammerhead shark, about ten
feet long, swam close around the sloop while we were
anchored for lunch. Tried in vain to shoot him; fished
for him with shark hook but he wouldn’t bite.

Our total catch was thirty-three fish, and I esti-
mated total weight over seven hundred pounds. Trask

218

A Shark—Free

LOG OF. THE MYSTERY

had two reels fail him and broke his line twice, and so
took my spare line and reel to go on with. His click
slipped off, the reel overran and snarled the line, and
the next rush broke it. Largest grouper was about four
feet long, seventy-five pounds; largest amberjack, four
and two-thirds feet, sixty pounds; largest barracuda,
four and one-half feet, thirty pounds. The barracuda
plays like a salmon, making long side runs and often
leaping repeatedly. One of my large fish went clear
out five times. The amberfish play deeper and do not
leap, but are much stronger weight for weight and fight
longer. The groupers surge heavily, play deep and get
into a hole if they can. Took fish to Indian Key, pho-
tographed them, and gave to a “Conch,” as the natives
of the keys are called, all but four, so none were wasted.
Find inside of sole leather brake pad deeply hollowed
by friction against the coil of line on the reel. Hada
plunge off the sloop. Very fine.

Monday, January 23.—Wind, northeast, light;
fair. After breakfast started for Bahia Honda, outside
the keys, a run of forty miles. Passed fleet of spongers
about nine A. M., and of mackerel seiners, each
schooner with a big seine boat in tow and a lookout on
the jibboom end, about eleven. ‘Toward noon saw sev-
eral mackerel jump, but they would not strike the
squids. About two-thirty two struck at the same mo-
ment, and were landed, four and one-half pounds each.

220

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

About three-thirty entered Bahia Honda harbor, pass-
ing near a small rocky islet with a large flock of peli-
cans on it. Shot at them muchly with small rifles with
no results. Landed on Bahia Honda cay. Low coral
reef, with rank grass and bushes on the higher part, and
a few cocoanut palms in the distance. Caught a lot of
small crabs for bait from under stones, and I speared a
nurse shark about fifteen inches long. Back on boat,
and caught a lot of small porgies and grunts before
sundown. Going back to boat we saw a large stingray,
speckled this time; but he got away too quick for me to
spear him. They move through the water by motion
of their wide flanges, which is singularly like the flight
of a bird. Six P. M., wind north, light; quite warm.
These southern keys have white beaches, and are in-
clined to be rocky and dry, quite different from the
mud and mangrove cays for the first fifty miles south
of Miami. Trask snores regularly every night, but not
violently, and it don’t seem to bother me any. He is
very cheerful and jolly and a very pleasant companion.

Tuesday, January 24——Anchored in channel be-
fore breakfast; caught large grunts and porgies of
about two pounds, and one pork fish, silver with yellow
and black stripes. Started for Key West about eight
o'clock. One valve stem of engine broke about ten
o'clock; drifted for two hours and repaired it. Trolled
with big rods over some reefs for about.an hour after

221

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

lunch. I caught a fifteen-pound grouper, and had one
more strike. Trask got one strike, but no fish. Started
for Key West two-fifteen P. M., about eighteen miles
away. Timed the boat for an hour this morning. She
made seven and one-half miles towing her rowboat be-
hind, and with two trolling lines out. A perfect day;
north wind early in day, and quite brisk. Now, two-
thirty P. M., soft S.W. wind; very warm and perfectly
clear; water, turquoise, with purple patches of rocky
shoal; wind, light, northerly, increasing.

Wednesday, January 25.—Wind, northerly fresh;
fair weather. ‘Took some photographs, bought sup-
plies, etc. Dropped my glasses into the harbor while
trying to photograph a two hundred-pound jewfish tied
to dock. A genial colored gentleman fished them out and
seemed grateful for a quarter. Wind rose rapidly, by
noon blowing a norther. Shifted boat to south of
steamer pier; cold and cloudy; dined at hotel; a very
bad dinner. Cold night; wind high.

Thursday, January 26.—Norther still blowing
very cold. Sun out about ten; warmer. Think
we are stuck here for a day or two. Storm all day, very
cold, extra blankets bought and slept in underclothes
and stockings.

Friday, January 27.—Fair; cold north wind.
Many fish picked up by boys, so numbed with cold as
to be helpless. Wind falling and somewhat warmer.

222

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

Drove with Trask to Martello Towers, old forts east of
town, and took some photographs. We had been told
this could not be done without a permit, so drove to the
barracks, and were told that the commanding officer
was at Fort Taylor. Drove to the fort, passing through
a gate where a sentry was stationed, who said nothing
to us. After some inquiry found a group of officers at
one of the batteries, prominent among whom was a
stout, red-faced, grizzled personage. I lifted my hat,
and he said, “Well, sir.” I said, “We are told that per-
mission to inspect the Martello Towers is necessary, and
beg leave to ask to do so.”” He thundered, “How the
devil did you get in here?” and, without waiting for a
reply, began to abuse our driver for bringing citizens
into the fort and threatened him with the guard house;
ordered the officer of the day to arrest the sentry at the
gate and have him tried by court martial. Said to me
most gruffly, “Am sorry I can give you no permission
to see any of the fortifications,” and stalked away. The
whole performance was so absurd that it struck me as
funny, and I did not begin to realize that our dignity
as American citizens had been offended until about
next day. The army is amusing when it gets on its hind
legs and prances, and this particular individual may
have been a very good officer, but seems to have lacked
training as a gentleman. We found the: towers prac-

223

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

tically ruinous, and nobody objected to our visit to
them.

The island where not cleared is a desolate wilder-
ness, sand and rock covered by scrubby jungle. Got
some more supplies and hope to start in morning for
the west coast. This storm appears to have been gen-
eral all over the country, with zero or below in north-
ern cities and freezing or below far down into Florida,
and has doubtless done great damage. Saw a jewfish
on dock, about six feet long and very thick and heavy,
would weigh at least three hundred pounds, brown,
mottled with lighter shade and very ugly. Large tur-
tle crawls on dock next us. Full of green turtles. Some
very large ones. ‘Toward night wind much lighter, and
temperature much milder. Night cold, but not nearly
so bad as the last one.

Saturday, January 28.—Cloudy; light northeast
wind. Started at nine-thirty. On the way passed a
small shark and a hawksbill turtle, circled to try and
spear them, but they both got out of the way. Reached
Bahia Honda three-thirty. Landed on Pelican Key,
got two shots at flock of small beach birds with shot-
gun. Killed several, but only got two, others washed
away. Fired four shots at pelican on the water, about
three hundred yards, with .22 rifle; first shot short;
second and third nearer; but still short. Fourth caught
him through the neck and killed him instantly. Picked

224

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

him up with launch, full-grown female, very handsome
plumage, spread of wings seven feet. Much larger
bird than I supposed. Anchored inside channel. Quiet
night.

Sunday, January 29.—Cloudy; heavy black bank
to the east. Started for Cape Sable nine A. M. Skinned
the pelican; beastly job. Partly cloudy; light north
wind. Are running up inside keys, and shall strike
across in an hour or so and get out of sight of land.
Bay of Florida. Water shallow, today muddy from
long storm, so pale turquoise. Cape Sable about three
P. M. Up along shore to Sawfish Hole. Very shoal
water. Anchored off postoffice of Flamingo, near some
small keys. Few drops of rain in evening. Quite com-
iortable temperature. ‘The pelican skin kept me busy
for four days, hanging it up to the sun to dry, covering
it with canvas when it rained and putting it away at
night. It got wetter and worse smelling every day, and
I finally gave it up as a bad job and threw it overboard.

Monday, January 30.—Fair, light east wind, com-
fortably warm. Up at sunrise. Went to keys with
shotgun and rod. Shot a great white heron and a qua
bird, or night heron. Caught a sea trout three pounds.
Roberts speared a drum of about same size. Picked
up a chilled burrfish. Yellow ground, fine black stripes
in pattern, emerald eyes, yellow border, spined pro-
fusely on back and head to tail; eight inches long. Af-

226

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

ternoon, speared a red drum, shot a Florida cormorant
and young white ibis, called “curlew” here. Fired
many shots. Shot (No. 8), too small. Warmest night
yet.

Tuesday, January 31.—Fair, light east wind;
warm. Fished for drum around keys, no bites. Shot at
a red drum and missed him. Speared a gray drum,
twenty pounds, which croaked repeatedly when in the
boat. Roberts picked up a fifty-pound tarpon, dead,
evidently killed by cold; no mark on him. After lunch
started for Shark river on west coast. East winds be-
came high about noon. Still quite warm. We were
disappointed at not seeing a sawfish, for which this last
spot is noted. Had cormorant and curlew stewed for
dinner. Both horrid. Tender, but with a dead and
gone aftertaste that was abominable. The red drum
proved an excellent table fish. About two-thirty ran
hard aground on bank a mile from shore. Tide went
out and boat lay over twenty degrees or more. Engine
broke down just after we struck. ‘Tinkered it, tide
came in and we got off about seven-thirty and anchored
in channel. Big lot of porpoises puffing and jumping
around us. Wind fallen; warmer.

Wednesday, February 1.—Fair; wind east, fresh.
Fished off boat. Trask caught four sand perch; I
didn’t get a bite. Ran along coast past the triple capes
called “Sable,” toward Shark river. Reached same

227

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

about noon. After lunch went up river in boats.
Fished, but caught nothing. Shot two Louisiana her-
ons and a young one of the “‘little blue heron.” This
last was pure white, the ends of the primaries very
slightly marked with bluish. In about two years the
bird becomes deep blue all over. Trask shot an adult.
Took skin of back and wings of my Louisianas. Two
porpoises in river; Trask shot at them with his big
rifle and missed; Walter chased them with grains, but
couldn’t reach ’em. Mosquitoes numerous here. Shall
pull out for Marco and Pavilion Key or Punta Rassa
in morning.

Thursday, February 2.—Partly cloudy; warm;
wind very light, southwest. Left Shark river before
breakfast. Up coast; stopped Pavilion Key, twenty
miles north, for clams. ‘Tide too high. Bay full of big
drum fish, showing fins above surface. Roberts speared
three, twenty, ten and eight pounds. I shot at two, but
did not fetch them. Kept on north. Saw great flocks
of pelicans on sand bars and reefs, touched on shoals off
Cape Romano, but did not stick. Reached Marco
channel about five P. M. Stuck on bar outside. Got
off and made entrance all right. Grounded again in
river, pulled off and dropped anchor off Marco P. O.
Half a dozen houses and good-sized hotel and store.
Mailed letters, and were given New York papers to
January 30, and invited to supper, but declined; clothes

228

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

not good enough for ladies’ society. Shot at flock of
ducks, but got none. Shall get a few supplies and may
stay here for a day if fishing and shooting good. Mailed
letters. No mosquitoes. Good night.

Friday, February 3.—Fog at sunrise. Light show-
ers once or twice during morning. Caught fiddlers on
point; great droves of them there. Went up creek and
caught three red drum (channel bass) about two
pounds each. Struck a great sheepshead hole. Caught
a dozen, from three pounds to one, and stopped because
I wouldn’t catch more. They are very light biters, and
great bait stealers. Trask caught half a dozen and
stopped. We gave all we could not use to hotel. Got
some fruit, beans, etc. Roberts grained a whip ray,
about two feet across. Started for Punta Rassa, noon.
Pelicans and porpoises all the way. Many dead fish
floating—mostly catfish. Near Sanibel passed a log-
gerhead turtle close by, six feet long. Trask wanted to
Shoot him and Roberts to grain him, and the turtle
woke up and dived while they were discussing. Saw a
great devil fish jumping near the light. He went clear
out six or seven times. Was eight feet long at least, and
much wider than that. Anchored at Punta Rassa at
sundown. Got letters and telegrams at hotel. The
threatened northwest storm did not materialize. Starry
night.

Saturday, February 4.—Partly cloudy; east wind,

220

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

light; cool, but pleasant. After breakfast sailed to Fort
Myers for supplies. Sixteen miles up Caloosa river.
Shot at many ducks, bluebills; bagged one, and had my
glasses kicked off into the river. Got supplies, waited
until morning for ice. Nothing doing. Caught two
snappers off dock at Punta Rassa, small. Bluebill
ducks in Myers harbor amazingly tame. Shooting is
prohibited there, and the ducks know it. They are
wild as usual a mile away.

Sunday, February 5.—Foggy; easterly wind; fair-
ly warm. Ice late in coming. Left order to send it to
Punta Rassa and sailed nine A. M. Stopped to fish for
trout. Caught none. Shot two bluebill ducks, and
picked a bushel of oysters off bar—excellent. Caught
a five-pound sheepshead off dock at Punta Rassa, and
Trask caught a six-pounder. Great sport for our light
rods.

Monday, February 6.—Fair; light southwest
wind; warm. Ice came nine A. M. Sailed to Sanibel
Light, nine-thirty. Picked up many and large variety
of shells on beach, and caught four or five sheepshead,
four pounds each, off dock. Sailed for Marco, ten-fif-
teen A. M. On beach at Sanibel many dead fish, killed
by the late freeze. Men at Punta Rassa say that about
all fish caught in shallow water were killed. Three
dead sharks and a dead porpoise on bar. A beautiful
run to Marco; light southeast wind. Long swell from

230

A Shark—Landed

mccain

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

gulf. Got to Marco at four P. M. Took in gasolene
and caught fiddlers.

Tuesday, February 7.—Fair; light southeast
wind; warm; a perfect morning. Got up before sun-
rise, dressed and rowed to shore for fiddler crabs,
caught about four quarts in a few minutes. They cov-
ered the ground so as to make large brown patches on
the edge of the mud flats, but scattered in a very lively
way when approached. It was a muddy job, but rather
good fun. Started at seven-thirty, following a launch
that was to make the run through Big Marco river, a
tidal channel through a multitude of islets, hard to dis-
tinguish and follow and to find good water, for most
of it is quite shallow and the channel swerves perplex-
ingly from side to side. We scraped several times, it
being dead low tide, but got through all right in about
two hours. Saw many herons, ibis and ducks, and a very
few of the rare roseate spoon-bill, called “pink curlew”
here. A big bald eagle sat on a mangrove just as we
came out in the open. The mangroves grow down to
low water mark, their trunks being raised to high tide
level on a cluster of spider-like roots. Branches and
pendant roots hang to the water and are often encrusted
with oysters, always small and not eaten where the big-
ger and better kind, which are always water-covered,
can be had. Reached Pavilion Key about noon. I
fished for drum with no results; could hear their croak

232

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

all around us, but they would not bite. Grained a big
fish in five feet of water. He raced around with the
pole for two or three minutes before I got hold of it;
then surged mightily against my pull, and finally
worked loose and got off. Must have been a forty-
pounder, probably a big drum. Grained a big stingray
and lost him after ten minutes. Trask went out with
Roberts, who grained four sharks and lost them all.
Was pulled overboard by one of them. In the evening
went wading for clams by lantern light on the big flats,
left bare, or nearly so, by the tide. A very weird and
queer experience. Got a few clams only.

Wednesday, February 8.—Fair; warm; light east-
erly breeze. Whole crew went after clams after break-
fast, and kept us waiting three hours, which might have
been much better employed in running south. I
tramped the beach with shotgun, missed a big hawk, or
rather failed to stop him, and saw nothing else. Tide
very low, and a striking difference in the appearance
of the island. Got under way about nine-thirty for
Cape Sable, and beyond if we can get there.

Pleasant run to Sandy Cay. Arrived four-thirty
P. M. Anchored one-quarter of a mile south. On
shore with gun. No game. Saw thirty or more great
white and blue herons perched on one tree, and two
bald eagles on a dead stub. Shore swarming with large
horseshoe crabs, in clusters of from three to twelve.

233

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

Trask caught one catfish off yacht and stopped fishing.
Quiet night; warm. Slept without a blanket for the
first time.

Thursday, February 9.—One month from Cleve-
land; twenty-four days from Miami. Fair, bright and
very warm; wind southeast, light. Started at eight
A. M. for Indian Key. Run is among sand banks, not
reaching the surface, the sea being entirely open, ex-
cept for some small cays to the north, and the deepest
water being seven feet to eight feet only. Passed fleet
of spongers. Went through a narrow channel between
sand banks, and anchored off Lignum Vite Cay at two
P. M. Hunted crawfish in the rock holes along shore,
speared one hundred and nineteen, mostly big ones, and
salted them down. Anchored off Indian Cay about
four P. M. Caught a lot of runners and jacks, nothing
else; very strong fighters, but worthless on the table.
Threw them all back. One pound to two. Very hot
night. Slept without covering and with windows open.
All very restless.

Friday, February 10—Wind S. E., light; very
warm. Fished off boat before breakfast. Caught only
runners. Saved a few for barracuda bait. To Alliga-
tor reef after breakfast. I caught three barracuda, ten,
fifteen, eighteen pounds, and three Spanish mackerel,
seven, seven, four pounds. Trask caught two barra-
cuda, two groupers, one mackerel, about the same size,

234

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

and a two-pound parrot fish, green and yellow. I fished
under the light for snappers and hooked a good one,
who instantly ran under one of the iron braces and
broke my line. An impossible place. Saw a lot of
them outside, but they wouldn’t look at a hook. Sharks
began to appear, so we rigged a shark line, baited with
a chunk of barracuda, hooked and lost a six-footer, and
caught a ten-footer, whom Trask quieted with his big
rifle. Three remoras were attached to it, each about
two feet six inches long. We speared them. Roberts
dived for a lot of sea fans and a starfish—he is a great
swimmer and diver. He hit a gray snapper with the
spear, but it failed to hold. Back to Indian Cay about
four P. M. I fished today with my medium-weight
rod and a No. 12 line, until a big barracuda made a
tremendous rush, and my reel overran and snarled the
line. He kept quiet just then, and by backing the yacht
I managed to reel in a lot of line and save him. In his
last rush he again snarled the line, but was too far gone
to break it. This trouble was caused by the pad brake
on this reel not being clamped tightly enough to the
bar, so that it fell back every time I reeled in and re-
quired some time to get into service when the fish made
arush. Very hot all day. The big fish made us work
very hard, so we suffered. Fishing today was much
inferior to that of our former day at the same place,
which was evidently exceptionally favorable; we saw

235

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

great numbers of fish, but they were not inclined to bite.
Half a dozen barracuda often followed our baits for a
long distance before one could summon up pluck
enough to strike. Clouds banked up in the north this
afternoon, which preceded a sharp blow from the north
and northeast, rising about seven P. M., and increasing
to quite a gale. Captain rowed out and set the second
anchor, and we are riding easily, being protected from
any sea by the shoal water on a bank just north of us,
bare at low tide. It is much cooler, which is a pleasant
change. We fished in channel here after returning
from light and caught only hard-tail runners, all of
which we threw back. High wind and heavy rain in
showers, continued all night.

Saturday, February 11—High wind, due east,
working toward the south during the day. Fair; partly
cloudy. Yacht lay at anchor in channel all day. Water
grew very cloudy. I tried to fish, but the boat kept
swinging about sixty degrees, going nearly across the
channel with each swing, so I gave it up after awhile.
Nothing doing all day.

Sunday, February 12.—Cloudy; brisk S. E. wind;
too high for us outside. Shall try the inside course
north. Had a rough sea for a mile, getting round out-
side to the channel. Ran back of Lignum Vite Key
through narrow channels of blue water winding
through broad flats, brown and yellow, with here and

236

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LOG OF THE MYSTERY

there a young mangrove stem, and saw flocks of white
herons, ibis and other waders. Came out into a sound
several miles wide, beyond which we got through a
crooked pass in a sand bank, just wide enough for the
boat, dragging her skeg through the mud to do it.
Crossed another sound several miles wide but, on send-
ing out a small boat and sounding, found we could not
cross the bar beyond it. Ran several miles north for
another crossing but, owing to the wind and sea having
made the water muddy, missed the channel and got
hard aground. Couldn’t get off with the engine or
poles, so ran an anchor out, put the small boat on the
fore deck and filled it with water (to bring the bow
down and the stern up). ‘The captain and Roberts got
overboard and hoisted; Walter worked the engine;
Trask and I hauled on the anchor cable, and we got off.
Roberts found channel, and we got through into an-
other big sound. Ran seven or eight miles through
this, passing three flamingoes feeding on a bar, brilliant-
ly scarlet against the green water. There was quite a
sea running, which once bumped us very hard on a high
place and started a small leak astern, but did no serious
damage. Got into Boggy creek all right, dragging a
little, but grounded hard at the other end, and had
quite a time getting off, repeating our earlier perform-
ances in all details. Finally did so, ran through the
new sound to the mouth of Jewfish creek and anchored

238

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

outside of it. All hands were pretty tired, and we
served out drinks from our only bottle of whiskey,
which were much appreciated.

Monday, February 13.—Partly cloudy; wind S.
W., light; warm. Had a fine plunge over the side be-
fore breakfast. At that meal Trask sat on the side of
the table where the movable leg is, and, on getting up,
knocked the leg out, precipitating half the contents of
the table, including my unfinished breakfast, to the
floor in a grand smash. Ran through Jewfish creek, a
narrow channel bordered by mangroves, with shoals at
entrance and exit and deep, dark water inside. I trolled
with a No. eight Skinner spoon, and half-way through
saw the break of a good fish as he rushed and missed it.
Let the rod go back, and he struck heavily. Everybody
happened to be forward, so I let the reel run as much
as necessary, held the fish in the center of the channel
and yelled like a wild Indian. They thought I had
fallen overboard and all came rushing back, stopped
the engine, and I finally landed a_ twelve-pound
grouper, a very strong and hard fighting fish, though
rather slow in his rushes.

We went through another sound. Then through
Steamboat creek, crossed Barnes’ sound and down
through Angelfish creek to the sea. Got aground at
head of Angelfish, but were off without much trouble.
Ran up outside of the keys to Cape Florida, and an-

239

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

chored in Bear’s Cut at about four P. M. Caught sev-
eral spot, grunts and groupers off the boat with light
rod. Hooked something big, but lost him at the first
rush.

Tuesday, February 14.—Wind shifted to north
during the night. Partly cloudy and cooler in morn-
ing, with N. E. wind. Think it will be rough outside,
and the captain seems to hesitate about going out. Fear
we may lose our kingfishing, with which we had hoped
to end the trip gloriously. Fished off boat before
breakfast, but caught nothing. Captain fussed over a
lot of trifles and was evidently afraid to venture out,
but about nine o’clock other boats came along bound
for the grounds, and we finally started. Found some
swell outside, but nothing to speak of, and could see
the white sails of quite a fleet of boats on the grounds
several miles to the north. When we got near the south-
ernmost we put out our lines, I using tarpon rod, twen-
ty-one-thread line and a five-inch block tin squid, and
Trask trying lighter tackle. Trask gave his rod to
Roberts for a moment when the first fish struck his
squid, was reeled in pretty close, and then broke the
line. I had a number of strikes, the fish leaping five
feet or six feet into the air and knocking the squid high
above the water. Presently there came a mighty jerk,
and the line ran out fifty yards in spite of my fullest
pressure on the brake pad. Then I checked him, reeled

240

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

in a little, lost it and more in another dash, and finally
got the fish near the boat and Roberts hoisted him in
and swung him into the big fish box, getting one finger
badly gashed by the sharp teeth in trying to free the
squid; blue and silver, a yard or more long, fifteen
pounds. Now we were in the middle of the fleet, and
the fish were striking every minute or oftener, jumping
ten feet straight up, knocking the squids into the air,
and every now and then being hooked. I seemed to
generally land them, while Trask’s lighter tackle lost
fish after fish. Presently he struck something which,
in steady, successive surges, ran out his whole two hun-
dred yards of line and broke it at the end, doubtless a
heavy shark, of which we could see a number about.
Twice sharks seized my hooked fish, and were hooked
themselves. The first was a very large one and im-
possible to hold, so, at the sudden and huge increase of
pull, I grasped the reel firmly, threw my whole weight
back, and broke the line close to the leader. The sec-
ond shark was smaller and was checked and turned
somehow after the first rush and brought quite near
the boat and into plain sight, proving to be about seven
feet long. There he dashed back and forth while
I balanced against the swell and skipped from one side
to the other around the big fish box, while Trask and
Roberts madly danced the ladies’ chain in their efforts
to get out of the way. It was impossible to land the

241

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

fish and I only hoped to save my line, so was not sorry
when a dash under the stern brought it across the rud-
der and cut the shark loose.

Trask rigged out with heavier tackle, and we both
caught fish, from ten to fifteen pounds each, until we
had a dozen or more. Then I reeled in the line short
and held the squid within twenty feet of the stern, and
got strike after strike, the fish showing no caution what-
ever, and could not avoid hooking one every now and
then. Then we took our cameras, trying to get a snap
of a leaping fish, and made several exposures, which
may turn out good, though the best leaps were gener-
ally just when we were not ready or the sun was wrong.

At noon we had about twenty fish and started back
for Bear’s Cut, being fully satisfied. On the way I
hooked and landed, after a great fight, much the largest
kingfish we took, four feet one inch long, and weighing
thirty-five pounds. His first rush took out nearly my
whole line. Came in to Bear’s Cut, had luncheon,
shifted into civilized garb and started for Miami, and
the end of our trip. Got aground on the bank near the
cut, but got off in half an hour.

The kingfish, in combined power, dash, vigor,
beauty and grace, surpasses any fish I have ever known.
His numbers, on certain very restricted grounds, seem
unlimited. There must have been at least forty boats
out today, and the hand-line fishermen caught an enor-

LOG OF THE MYSTERY

mous number. Even with our rods, which are very
much slower than hand lines, we could certainly have
taken many times our catch had we been willing to do
so. We have had a delightful experience with a most
noble fish, have taken discreetly of his bounty, and
none of our trophies will be wasted.

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An Indian Mound

N THE summer of 1873, three of us,
boys from eighteen to twenty years old,
were camped on the Island of Put-in-
Bay, in the western end of Lake Erie.
We had a boat, flat-bottomed, about
sixteen feet long, and rigged to carry
a spritsail and pull two pairs of oars.
We had a small sail made for her, and
said: “This sail will be a great help when the wind

favors us. At other times we will row.”’ But we never

did row. When the wind was contrary we waited for
it to change. We did not row five miles all through
that glorious summer. And we had a splendid time.

We stayed on one of that cluster of islands until tired
of it, and then, when the wind came favorable, sailed
eff to another. We fished, hunted, geologized a little,
plundered the farmer’s vines, and generally enjoyed
ourselves. But finally we did really do some serious
work, and that is what I mean to tell about.

The northern barrier of Sandusky Bay is a long
island, named Catawba, and only separated from the
mainland by a creek. We had heard of a remarkable
Indian mound on the western shore of this island, and
one beautiful July morning started out to find it. We
had shovels, picks, and all the necessary digging im-

245

AN INDIAN MOUND

plements; kettle, frying-pan, coffee-pot, and all the
more necessary feeding implements; plenty of stores;
lots of muscle and pluck, and last, but not least, a favor-
able wind. On the western shore of Catawba Island
is a little islet, barely a quarter of a mile square, called
Sugar Rock. It lies in a deep bay and is connected with
the main island, on the north, by a narrow reef of peb-
bles, bearing a single line of trees. On the south there is
a similar reef, not reaching the shore and, through the
interval, is a passage to a broad and quiet lagoon, one
of the few places where the great nelumbium shows its
strange pallid flowers and its wash-basin leaves. The
islet is covered with trees of good size, is rocky and un-
even in surface and, on the southwesterly side, rises
into cliffs of some sixty feet in height. On the highest
point of these cliffs, facing the west, was the mound we
were anxious to investigate.

Our first camp was on the shore of the lagoon, and
that proved to be a mistake. Not that the ground was
hard. We were used to that, and a convenient straw-
stack materially palliated that difficulty. But how
thick the mosquitoes were! Right here let me enter
my protest against Captain Mayne Reid. We had all
read his books, and had learned that fresh pennyroyal,
bruised and used profusely, would certainly drive away
the boldest mosquito. We were at the believing age,
and believed in Captain Mayne Reid and pennyroyal.
So we got lots of it and calmly prepared for the night

246

AN INDIAN MOUND

and mosquitoes. We bruised that pennyroyal; rubbed
it on face and hands; covered ourselves with it. Did it
hinder the robust mosquitoes of the wild and watery
west? Nota bit of it. They liked it. It seemed to stir
them up to a more eager activity than common, which
was unnecessary. Put it down in big letters that penny-
royal, as a mosquito preventive, is a humbug.

In the morning we changed our camp to the west-
ern shore of Sugar Islet itself. It took a good while
to get settled, and to get the commissary department
properly supplied and going. One never understands
how much time and labor has to go to supplying the
ordinary requirements and comforts of life, until he
gets into camp and does for himself. And then he
don’t get the ordinary comforts, but he has some ex-
traordinary pleasures that go far to make up for their
absence. But, nevertheless, a man who is ordinarily
weak and lazy had better have a guide to do the camp
work. The extra expense is cheap at its cost, and so is
the extra comfort.

There was a confiding farmer near by with whom
we negotiated for supplies, and obtained them at rates
which seemed to us remarkable. White Clover honey
at eight cents a pound; splendid household bread at
four cents a loaf, and chickens on the hoof at fifteen
cents apiece. The latter were running loose over the
whole neighborhood. We had no firearms, and had to
do the best we could with pebbles from the beach for

247

AN INDIAN MOUND

artillery. There was a good deal of labor to the cap-
ture of each chicken, but lots of fun in it, and it was
afternoon before the camp was fairly organized and
victualled, and we could get at the mound.

On the westerly angle of the islet, where the cliffs
are highest, a level platform, approximately circular
and about sixty feet in diameter, has been constructed,
by filling the inequalities with limestone boulders, and
in the center of this platform stands a mound, at pres-
ent about ten feet in height and forty feet in diameter.
Its surface was, and is, covered with loose masses of
limestone, such as are now found everywhere on the
islet, varying in size, but none too large for a man to
lift. Upon the mound were two or three good sized
stumps of the red cedar, their roots striking down
through the boulders, and blackberry bushes and other
brushwood made quite a tangle over it. Near the cen-
ter was an excavation about four feet deep, made by a
former exploring party, and we determined to attack
at that point, widening and lengthening the hole.

The covering of boulders proved to be from one
to two feet deep, and among them were enormous quan-
tities of human bones, irregularly scattered, and much
broken, but unmistakable. There must have been two
or three bushels in the space we uncovered, which was
a very small part of the entire surface. Beneath the
boulders was an irregular layer of black vegetable
earth, averaging perhaps six inches in depth, and be-

248

I—asoopy 11"

AN INDIAN MOUND

neath this was a hard and compact mass of yellowish-
brown clay, which formed the bulk of the mound.
There is no such clay on the islet, and it must have been
brought there in canoes, and thence carried to the site
on men’s backs. ‘That clay was extraordinarily hard
to dig, being very tough and dense, and containing
small boulders, which were always ready to catch the
edge of spade or the point of pick. Soon nothing but
the pick could be used, and it took a good many min-
utes to work out a shovelful of earth. We were all city
boys, pretty muscular and healthy, but not used to hard
manual labor and the work told on us rapidly. But we
stuck to it, taking alternately the pick, the spade, and
the hoisting basket, and none of us thought of giving in
until we had got to the bottom of that mound. Still
supper time was welcome, and the hot coffee and
broiled chicken were more delicious than anything
Delmonico can give us now. Then how good the pipe
was, as we sat around our camp-fire, made of red-cedar
driftwood; and how soft the ground seemed when we
rolled up in our blankets under the little tent, and how
quickly we went to sleep, in spite of the pint of strong
coffee inside of each of us. ‘Then the glorious bath at
sunrise, a hearty breakfast, and back to the mound
again, with muscles that were pretty stiff at first from
yesterday’s labors, but which limbered up after a few
minutes performance on the pick.

So we worked for two days, finding very rarely a

250

AN INDIAN MOUND

fragment of bone, and twice or thrice an arrow head,
but nothing of particular interest until nearly the end
of the third day. Then, beneath the clay and resting
upon another stratum of black vegetable soil, nearly
but not exactly in the center of the mound, we found a
hearth, about seven feet in diameter by six inches thick
and composed of pebbles from the beach. Upon this
hearth lay about six inches of fine gray ashes, so com-
pletely burned that no fragment of charred wood or
bone could be distinguished, and containing no imple-
ments so far as we could discover. At one end of this
hearth, and almost exactly in the center of the mound,
was a pile of limestone boulders, about three feet square
and somewhat calcined on the side toward the hearth.
Beneath these boulders was a deep cleft in the solid
rock, such a crack as often occurs in these limestone
cliffs. This we cleared of the earth and boulders which
filled it, as far as we could reach, but found nothing.
This was the whole result of all our hard work,
and seemed to us at the time rather small, but now I am
not so sure of that. Here was a site extremely unusual
in character and surroundings, and exceptionally con-
spicuous. A great amount of labor was expended in
leveling the surface and preparing the hearth, and the
fire kindled there was visible for many miles around.
Then came the very great task of carrying the clay
from a considerable distance, and erecting the mound.
All these things show that the fire was of extraordinary

251

AN INDIAN MOUND

importance, and the accumulation of human _ bones
mingled with the covering of boulders seems to indicate
that the spot possessed some great interest, sacred or
historical.

Now what was the purpose of this fire? Was it
sacrificial or funereal, and are the bones among the
boulders contemporaneous with the mound, or subse-
quent to it? JI don’t know, and I wish someone who
does would tell me.

Winter at Nassau

EW PROVIDENCE is physically a
small and low coral island, the cap of
a submerged mountain peak, sound-
ings of twenty-five hundred fathoms
being found within a few miles of the
shore. Politically it and the other
Bahamas constitute a self-governing
English colony, with a Governor Gen-
eral and subordinate officials appointed by the Crown
and a population of some seventy-five thousand, four-
fifths of whom are black. Being English it is orderly
and clean, and crime graver than petty theft is prac-
tically unknown. Economically it is the producer of
sponges, sisal, fish and some fruit. The total produc-
tive industry is small and the rocky and infertile soil
gives little inducement for cultivation, so that much
of the land, once cultivated by slave labor, has gone
back to wilderness and is covered by impenetrable jun-
gle. The earth has but little to recommend it from
the point of view of utility, beautiful and picturesque
as it is; but the other two elements, air and water, are
of a perfection beyond words. The shallow seas glow
with turquoise, opal and amethyst, the deeps beyond
are of the richest and purest sapphire, while every
breath of air is laden with perfume and touches the
cheek like a caress. From December to April the cli-

253

WINTER AT NASSAU

mate is delightful, warm but not sultry, breezy but
never chill, and all the gardens blossom with roses and
blaze with the splendid scarlet hibiscus, while the great
plumes of the cocoa palms sway everywhere and grape-
fruit and oranges gleam golden through the green.

Our house, on the crest of the ridge just west of
“Government House,” was a picturesque old structure
of coral blocks and mahogany, and equipped with black
and smiling handmaids at seventeen dollars per month
for three. Excellent mutton and passable beef were
to be had in the markets, the best of fish, brought
in alive, were plentiful, and big, spiny lobsters could be
had for from three to eight cents each. Cohorts of
dark-skinned market women bearing on their heads
trays of fruit, vegetables, small eggs and lean chickens,
came in procession to the back door every morning.
Milk, cream and butter came in tins from the North,
groceries from the States and canned things from Eng-
land, and very decent cigars could be had for three
cents each.

The outer protection of the harbor is a long, nar-
row island, on the outside of which is a beach of white
coral sand, up to and over which brims constantly the
wonderful clear blue water, making the perfection of
bathing. Much of this islet is a fruit orchard and the
bather is encouraged to consume gratis as much and as
many kinds of tropical fruit as he can find room for,
and the flavor of those oranges and grape fruit, fully

254

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WINTER AT NASSAU

ripened on the tree, is a revelation to the Northerner,
who has only eaten fruit picked partly green and rip-
ened in transit.

For a hundred dollars a month I chartered a
staunch two-masted boat about thirty feet long, with a
crew of three blacks, all good sailors and willing,
cheerful and biddable, as all Nassau negroes seem to be,
and fished diligently and regularly on nearly every day
for the five months from December to May, when wind
and sea permitted, while my wife and daughters some-
times went along, but oftener amused themselves other-
wise ashore.

Occasionally we tried bottom fishing, taking with
conch bait blue, yellow and black angelfish, porgies,
turbot, parrot fish and many others, most interesting in
their amazingly brilliant colors and strange shapes.
We were most successful in water sixty feet deep or so,
and there, by means of a water glass, or without it when
the surface happened to be still, fish at the bottom are
clearly visible. If one could keep small bait fish alive
he could doubtless have the greatest sport using these
for the large kingfish, amberjack and others that will
not touch a still, dead bait; but my boat was not fitted
with a well and a tub or barrel proved a very unsatis-
factory substitute, the “goggle eyes” dying very quickly
in spite of everything that could be done. Most of my
sport was therefore had by trolling.

256

IPI SDIULT GAOT UOA LT

WINTER AT NASSAU

The fish one takes in this way average large, with
an occasional monster and are pre-eminently strong, so
that the tackle must be suitably robust. A twenty-two
ounce greenheart tarpon rod, six and one-half feet long,
a large reel holding two hundred yards of twenty-four
thread linen line and fitted with “Rabbeth” drag and
pad brake, a four-foot leader of twenty-two gauge
piano wire and a 12-0 tarpon hook, proved to be the
proper outfit. Where the leader was made fast to the
swivel a two-inch end of the wire should be left free
and projecting, to catch the bait and keep it from run-
ning up the line, with the drag of the water when a
hooked fish rushes, otherwise another fish will prob-
ably strike at the bait-and cut your line off. The big
hook is passed down through the mouth and out at the
gill of a seven-inch bait, then turned and put through
the body near the tail, the mouth of the bait is sewed
up and made fast to the hook eye, to save pull and hold
it in place, and one is ready for business. It was my
custom to keep two rods ready baited and use them
alternately, so that no time was wasted when a bait had
been cut by a strike. Lines must be renewed once a
month or oftener, and wire leaders every second day,
as the salt water attacks and weakens them very rap-
idly.

Reels must be lashed to the rod as firmly as possi-
ble with half a dozen turns of stout line, a makeshift
device but absolutely essential. When tackle makers

258

On Salt K

WINTER AT NASSAU

acquire sense enough to fit heavy sea rods with locking
reel bands, such as are put on all good salmon rods,
lashing will be unnecessary and the outfit greatly im-
proved. The backward pull and oscillation in reeling
a heavy fish is almost certain to loosen a sliding band,
so that an unlashed reel is pretty sure to drop off, in the
height of a combat, with most disastrous results. The
‘‘Rabbeth” drag consists of a friction clutch, connect-
ing reel handle and gears, the pressure being adjust-
able at will by thumbscrews, and should be usually set
so that a straight pull of five or six pounds will draw
line while the handle is firmly held. When a fish pulls
more than that amount the frictions automatically give
line, while a steady and strong pull is always kept up,
so that he should never get any slack. With a fixed
handle and pad brake only there is a danger moment,
when the fish rushes and the hand is changed from
handle to brake, and then it is that lines are snarled,
knuckles barked and fish lost. Should the pull of the
friction drag not prove great enough, one can readily
increase it by turning the thumbscrews even while
playing a “whopper.” The pad brake can also be
operated by the left hand, so that as great strain as the
tackle will bear can be used at any time and varied at
pleasure. The drag as now made has no means of lock-
ing the central nut, holding the handle to the reel, and
some device for this purpose would be a much needed
improvement, as the great strain will soon work this

260

WINTER AT NASSAU

screw loose. I have found it necessary to set it up with a
screw driver half a dozen times a day, this need having
been taught me by my reel handle coming off while
playing a big rock fish, which promptly got into a
coral hole, giving me half an hour’s hard work to save
my line, with the loss of fish, leader and hook. The
rush of a big fish will whirl the friction disks so fast
that one can scorch his hand by carelessly touching the
metal of the handle, which gets far too hot for fingers
to bear with comfort. A very strong spoon, seven
inches long and one and a half wide, with a ten-naught
hook firmly attached to the after end, will be found very
killing when sufficient speed can be had. Those usu-
ally sold in tackle shops are far too thin and weak for
this heroic sport and bend and break disastrously. A
proper spoon should be of steel heavily nickeled and
bear a hook of the best class.

This tackle is the same used for tarpon and tuna,
which may weigh over two hundred pounds each, and
may seem unnecessarily large for fish that do not often
exceed sixty pounds, gamy though they are. But the
tarpon and tuna are taken from small boats or power
launches, which can be either towed by the fish or
follow him with oars or steam. To take fish of such
size and strength from a large sail boat, where all the
work must be done by rod and reel alone, would be
absolutely impossible, and with these conditions the
West Indian angler will often wish that his weapons

261

WINTER AT NASSAU

were stronger still, before he lands a fifty pound king-
fish or amberjack or gets a forty pound rockfish out of
a hole in the coral.

For many miles along the northern shore of New
Providence stretches a band of islands, keys and rocks,
between and inside of which are channels and passages
that are perfect for protected pleasure sailing and, to
the inexperienced eye, look like the finest possible fish-
ing ground, but the noblest fish rarely enter these and
one’s best fishing must be in the open ocean outside the
islands, this being perfectly safe for a staunch boat, as
a refuge is never far distant. Near the shore and along
the reefs, in shoal water and over the purple spots,
mutton fish, groupers, rockfish and others abound,
with every now and then a big amber, yellow or black
jack, while kingfish and mackerel are more common
farther out where the sapphire water begins. Barra-
cuda are everywhere, though usually more numerous
toward the shore or reefs, while every now and then
one takes a wanderer from South or North, often un-
known to your boatmen and sometimes undescribed in
English, if not in any tongue.

The sturdiest fighters of all are the members of
the “jack” tribe, black, yellow, horse-eye, amber and
others. They fight to a finish and with a power and
fury that is alarming; even the smaller resist astonish-
ingly and, when one has subdued and brought to gaff
a fifty pound amberjack, he is more than willing to

262

WINTER AT NASSAU

let his aching arms and wearied heart and lungs get
a good rest before he tackles another. Every foot of
line one gets from a jack has to be hardly earned and
when the fish is seen through the water he is pretty
nearly ready to come into the boat. The jacks are of
a very varied color and form and the specific distinc-
tions are still somewhat doubtful. One day I took
three fish that we called blackjack, one of which had
the front dorsal long and falcate, the second had the fin
short and plain, and the third was half way between
- the first two, while in size, color and general appear-
ance they were almost identical. ‘The blackjack, horse-
eye, and the large amberjack are reputed poisonous,
and this was entirely confirmed by the experience of
my crew with two big fellows of my own catch, as de-
scribed elsewhere. The yellow finned and black finned
rockfish (mycteroperca) are also believed to be very
dangerous, though I can give no personal testimony
except that they are hard to conquer and that nobody
will eat them. The ill repute of the barracuda as ven-
omous is not deserved, so far as my own experience goes,
though they have chopped off short so many of my
hooked kingfish and mackerel that I loathe and detest
their species, bold biters and active fighters though they
are. ‘Che whole mackerel family, rangers of the open
sea and preying on living fish only, or what they take
for such, seem to be free of this reproach.and can be
always eaten without danger. Trim, powerful, swift,

263

WINTER AT NASSAU

unarmored, silvery, iridescent, beautiful, depending on
power and speed alone, they are the nobles of the sea,
and the ocean fisherman loves them best of all, from the
huge tuna down to the dainty Spanish mackerel of the
golden spots. ‘They are the most dashing of fighters,
the most lovely in color and form, and the most de-
licious food of any class of salt water fish known to me.
Long and well may they flourish and may I soon meet
them again.

The typical Spanish mackerel, according to Jor-
dan and Evermann, has the golden spots separate, in
irregular rows and not coalescing. Of the hundred or
more I took at Nassau every single one had these spots,
at least in the first row below the lateral line for two-
thirds its length, joined into a continuous golden brown
band, exactly similar in shape and position to the dark
band shown on J. and E.’s cut of S. regalis, the spotted
cero or kingfish, which I have never caught or seen.
Evidently S. cavalla, the kingfish without spots, is the
common form about Florida and Nassau. On the
grounds near Miami I have repeatedly seen this latter
fish, on the original strike, go ten feet or more into the
air, while at Nassau they never more than broke the
water and this only at the strike. I judge that this leap
only occurs when the fish rushes at the bait from far
below the surface and the impetus carries him into the
air. At neither place have I ever seen a hooked king-
fish leap during play, as the barracuda very often and

264

Three Kingfish

WINTER AT NASSAU

repeatedly does. ‘The statements on page 288 of Jor-

dan and Evermann’s great book, and by Dr. J. A. Hen-
shall, quoted in Forest and Stream of February third,
1906, as to the leaping of this fish, if taken by them-
selves without explanation, give the reader a false im-
pression. Having taken some hundred of this fish I am
certain that S. cavalla very rarely, if ever, leaps to
get rid of a hook, as the black bass and barracuda reg-
ularly do. Mr. Holder, however, states that he found
the spotted kingfish, S. regalis, leap repeatedly after
being hooked, and of course his word is not to be
doubted. It would therefore seem that these two very
closely related fish have this decided difference in habit,
which is curious. Regalis appears to be a more South-
ern form than cavalla and is reported to me to be
rarely taken on the Florida coast or around the Baha-
mas.

The natives of Nassau know nothing of scientific
fishing, the use of the rod and reel is practically un-
known to them, and proper tackle cannot be had
but must be bought in the North. The native “Conch”
trolls with a big white cotton line, conspicuous enough
to scare any fish, and one foolish enough to risk a bite
is hauled in by main strength, often tearing away in the
process. By actual test I found that the rod, using a
small dark colored line, would get more than twice as
many strikes as the hand line and would save a much
larger percentage of the fish. Where fish are unusu-

266

WINTER AT NASSAU

ally numerous or exceptionally bold, as on the great
grounds at Miami, a hand line will of course take many
more fish than a rod, simply because they are hauled
in “endways” and not allowed to take any time in play,
but the sport is to all right minded anglers enormously
inferior.

It was the morning of the last day of January. A
brisk northerly breeze was sending big turquoise rollers
over the bar of Nassau harbor and barring with white
the deep purple sea outside. ‘The New York steamer
lay at anchor in the roadstead, and the stout pilotboat
“Kestrel” tacked back and forth between the steamer
and the white lighthouse on Hog Island point, swinging
over the long seas and scattering spray as she met one
higher than ordinary. Over her quarters protruded
two stiff rods, each carrying two hundred yards of
twenty-four thread linen line, tipped with four feet of
piano wire, armed with a hook measuring an inch and
a half across the bend, baited with seven-inch google-
eyes, and held respectively by Mr. Umbstaetter of the
“Black Cat’ and myself. We had patiently see-sawed
back and forth for nearly two hours, covering the
ground where the refuse cast from the ship is likely to
gather fish together, but had taken nothing but an
eight-pound yellowjack and a couple of snaky and lan-
cet-fanged barracuda, which latter we had grown to
think vermin, strong and bold fighters though they are.
At last there was a violent surge on my rod, a furious

267

WINTER AT NASSAU

scream of the reel as the line tore away, and the boat
began to swing up into the wind to ease the strain,
when a wild shriek came from the other reel. ‘There
we were, tossing in a heavy sea and driven by a fresh
wind, with a big fish fast on each side of the boat at the
same time, so that the quarry had every advantage.
Repeatedly a fierce rush would exhaust our lines down
to the last few coils, in spite of the utmost pressure of
the pad brakes, and we would painfully retrieve a few
yards, only to have it snatched away again. Luckily
each fish kept on his own side of the boat until their
first fury was somewhat quelled; but then they circled
and twisted our lines together. It looked pretty hope-
less, but in a momentary lull Captain John caught my
rod, ran clear aft, passed it twice around my friend’s
line, and got it into my hands again with a few turns
still on the spool. ‘This crucial point passed, the rest
of the battle was less strenuous, and we finally reeled
in, gaffed and boated two kingfish of such size that it
seemed absurd that our slight lines should have held
them.

With these two blue and silver iridescent beauties
on board, we again swung back and forth over the
same ground, and just as we had about given up hope
of more, I had another furious strike and battle, finally
conquering a third kingfish, larger than either of the
first two.

WINTER AT NASSAU

These three fish were carefully weighed in the
presence of a good part of the population of the island,
perhaps two hours after they were taken, and scaled
thirty-eight, forty-one and fifty pounds full measure,
my own catch being the larger two. They are gener-
ally said to be the largest kingfish taken at Nassau for
many years, if they were ever exceeded; certainly I
had never before taken, seen or known of any ap-
proaching the largest or exceeding the smallest, and
my skipper, a boatman and fisherman among these
islands as boy and man, says the same thing. I had
very diligently fished these grounds for two months,
and taken no kingfish over ten pounds, except one of
thirty, which was considered very large. I claim no
credit except for ordinary skill, but certainly had luck
of the finest.

The play of these big fish consists of tremendous
runs and dashes of most startling violence, with inter-
vals of comparative quiescence, during which much
needed line can be regained. At the very last, and
when the fish first sees the boat, there is apt to be a
sudden and furious rush, which is very likely to take
the fisherman off his guard. An inexperienced guest
of mine recently had his twenty-four thread line broken
like a single thread by such a final dash of what was
manifestly a very big fish. My two fish completely
wore out a new rubber pad brake.

269

WINTER AT NASSAU

On February eighth I took, after a most strenuous
battle, a kingfish measuring fifty-seven inches in length
and weighing fifty-five pounds and a little over for
good measure. He put up a splendid fight, first mak-
ing long runs with the speed and fury characteristic
of his noble race, and afterward resisting all invitation
to a nearer acquaintance, with the heavy deep surges
and bulldog resistance more often displayed by the
amberjack. In spite of the greatest strain I dared put
on my stout tackle it took at least half an hour to bring
him to gaff, and neither the fish nor myself had any
rest during the whole of that time. Sometimes the
fish took charge and sometimes I did, while my crew
of three were kept busy trimming sail to help keep
him clear of the boat, under which he made a series
of rushes that brought my heart well up in my throat,
with a cold chill every time the line grazed the keel.

This splendid fellow was greatly helped in the
contest by the fact that my largest amberjack, fitty-one
inches long and weighing fifty-two and one-half
pounds, was captured only an hour or so before, after
a struggle from which I was only partly rested. Of
course such an amberjack is not considered very large,
but the captor of a fish of this size will not soon forget
him. As a final result both my forearms were pain-
fully sore and lame at night and the fishes were spared
any further annoyance from me for a couple of days.

270

WINTER AT NASSAU

The struggles of a hooked fish excite all his neigh-
bors, and they will follow him closely and strike at any-

thing they see nearby. This is the case even with barra-
cuda and amberjack, and notably so with the kingfish,

which, like most of the mackerel family, is gregarious.
If a second bait is thrown out when the first fish is
weary and close to the boat, it is more than likely to be
taken by one of his agitated satellites.

The fishing here is gloriously uncertain. One can
put in several days with small results and then the same
ground will suddenly yield an abundant and astonish-
ing harvest. The fish, at least those that will bite, ap-
pear to be much fewer than on the Florida reef, so
one’s string is smaller in number, but the individuals
are likely to be of greatly superior size. On the Miami
grounds the kingfish swarm so that one’s catch is often
Jimited only by his sense of propriety, but the fish will
average about ten pounds each and very rarely exceed
twenty-five. Here I have never taken more than five
kingfish in one day, and many days have been blank
or nearly so; but those landed have run from five to
fifty-five pounds and have averaged twenty-five or
more. As one big fish is worth a hundred small ones,
from the view point of sport, the superiority of Nas-
sau is manifest.

Beside the barracuda, kingfish and amberjack, one
also takes in trolling groupers, rockfish and the beau-

271

WINTER AT NASSAU

tiful and succulent mutton fish, all often of large size.
The latter are taken in shoal water and near the reefs
and seem to bite best when a considerable surf is roll-
ing in. To handle a sailboat in such a place, practi-
cally in the outer edge of the breakers, takes skill of a
high class in the crew. My own outfit, from Eleu-
thera, one of the outer islands, are a capital lot of men,
and the way they brought the ‘‘Kestrel” back and forth
over the spot where a big grouper had got me fast in
a rock-hole, so that I saved rig and fish, in a heavy surf
and in such shoal water that our centerboard scraped
once or twice, was the very greatest credit to their sea-
manship.

My crew dried and salted the big amberjack and,
with others, ate freely of it. Every partaker was very
ill within a few hours, vomiting and purging violently,
and next day my two men appeared with their eyes so
swollen and inflamed as to be almost closed. This
swelling lasted for some days, their eyes remained
sensitive and irritable for weeks and they also com-
plained of severe and general itching of the skin. This
is a well authenticated case of the poisoning from eat-
ing fish which the natives dread so much, and the first
instance which has come within my own observation.
Large amberjack had better be omitted from one’s bill
of fare; fortunately they are so hard and tough as to
be little temptation.

272

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My catch of the twelfth was a varied one; three
Spanish mackerel, two rockfish, a fine Nassau grouper,
four barracuda and a four-foot shark. The last took
the troll meant for better fish and put up a really fine
fight, dashing to and fro like a kingfish, which he was
supposed to be until the very last. Finally I struck
something very heavy, the boat swung up into the wind
at my hail, and the fish paused a moment. Then began
a steady but irresistible motion; both thumbs pressed
hard on the brake and the stout rod bent into a hoop,
so that another pound would have broken it. Yard by
yard the line was dragged away and the coil left grew
smaller and smaller. I hung on desperately, calling to
my crew to get the boat round and follow, and they
tried their best to do it. The sails slowly filled and the
boat swung a little toward the rigid line; but all was
useless. The coil ran down and down, the bright spin-
dle showed itself, the last turns slipped away, there
was a sharp snap, and I was left with an empty reel
and a broken heart, while the monster sailed off with
the whole line towing after him. Neither myself nor
my boatmen were to blame for this disastrous result;
all of us did everything possible, but the fish was sim-
ply too huge and strong for us. From the character
of this strike and movements he was pretty certainly
an amberjack, and his weight could not be less than a
hundred pounds and probably much exceeded that.

274

WINTER AT NASSAU

With a power boat capable of quickly following, or
with a rowboat that could be towed, after the manner
of tarpon fishing, we might have saved him; but from
our heavy sail boat, playing him from the reel alone,
this was certainly impossible.

So vanished into space the largest game fish I have
ever hooked, leaving anguish and desolation behind.

A few days later we hooked and played to ex-
haustion, both of the fish and myself, a kingfish that
made my fifty-five pounder look like a baby. After a
most arduous combat he finally lay on the water only
thirty yards away, practically helpless, and the reel
was steadily bringing him closer and closer to the
waiting gaff. Suddenly there was a rush of a great
body through the water and a shark, at least fourteen
feet long, swallowed that whole huge fish in just two
bites, leaving me with a cut line and helpless. But for
the fact that my crew showed such talent and power
in vituperation as to make my assistance unneeded, |
fear that the temptation to be profane might then have
proved too strong for me. J am confident that this fish
was close to six feet long and weighed at least a hun-
dred pounds.

While trolling around Salt Key I had a very sud-
den and violent strike and the line was nearly ex-
hausted before the first rush was checked,, in spite of
full use both of my pad brake and the Rabbeth drag.

275

WINTER AT NASSAU

Then followed a combat equal in strength to that fur-
nished by a forty-pound amberjack, but with longer
rushes. I expected to develop a fifty-pound kingfish,
but finally brought to gaff a strange fish, thirty-eight
inches long, fifteen inches deep, less than four inches
in greatest thickness and weighing twenty-four pounds.
The pectoral fin was a foot long, crescent-shaped and
very narrow. He was dressed in light blue and silver
with most beautiful pink and pearl iridescence, and
the broad upper lip was a deep and brilliant blue.
The other fins were greenish with strong dark spots.
My crew called him a whipfish, but said they had
never seen one so large. Another African fisherman
insisted that he was a “‘permit.”’ In general style he
seemed to me similar to the numerous and varied tribe
of jacks, though very different from any species famil-
iar to me. He was afterward identified by the Smith-
sonian as Hynnis Cubensis, having no common name,
but closely related to the pompanos, and so far de-
scribed only in Spanish, having been found on the
south coast of Cuba and being rare there.

A few days later the “Kestrel” was swinging to and
fro over the kingfish ground near Green Key. The
fish were not hungry, only a couple of barracuda and
a five-pound mackerel had been gaffed so far, and I
was getting rather sleepy and nearly ready to start for
home; so, when we gybed the sails and made a long

276

Barracuda

WINTER AT NASSAU

turn, I did not bother to reel in and the line lay in
something like a half circle. ‘There was a sharp strike
and that curve changed to a straight line in half a
shake of a lamb’s tail. The way that line swept side-
ways, cutting off the tops of the waves, was a new
experience, and the rush straight away that followed
was thrilling. The fish was permitted to take his time
and not hurried. There were fifteen minutes of very
dashing play before he showed through the clear wa-
ter, similar to the fight of a kingfish, but remarkably
fast, and we finally boated something very like S. ca-
valla, but more slender, with longer head and more
widely forked tail. The back was dark greenish-blue,
the sides silvery with many vertical dark bars of hour-
glass shape, which faded out within ten minutes, and
when the photograph was taken, three hours after, the
sides and belly had grown quite dusky.

This fish was forty-six inches long, five and one-
half inches deep and nearly cylindrical, and weighed
twenty-two pounds, while a kingfish of the same length ~
would weigh thirty-five. On reference to Jordan and
Evermann, he proved to be a peto (4. solandrt), said
to be not uncommon about Cuba, and distinguished
from the other mackerels by the long first dorsal, which
contained twenty-four spines. He is evidently not a
frequent visitor here, as my crew had never seen one,
and proved to be super-excellent on the table. I have
never hooked a more dashing fighter.

278

WINTER AT NASSAU

Among unusual fish taken were two specimens of
the little tunny, differing from the great tuna only in
size and some not noticeable details of structure. Very
compact, full of energy, and very handsome in his
dress of green and silver, but barely eatable, the flesh
being dark, coarse and strong. Those I took weighed
about five pounds each, though they are reported to
reach twenty. Over the reefs I have also caught the
agujon or houndfish, very long, slender and cylin-
drical, with a narrow bill closely set with sharp, green
teeth, this being also the color of the bones. This fish
fights very vigorously and on the surface, runs up on
the line and throws himself out of the water. A ten-
pounder, four feet long, is my largest; but I have seen
one weighing sixteen. He is admirable on the table.

Sharks are quite numerous in these waters and
will take the trolled bait if the boat is moving slowly.
They give quite a surdy and lively play, which ends in
disappointment when the shovel nose and olive green
back appear. I have taken quite a number, the largest
being about six feet nine inches and estimated to weigh
about one hundred pounds. The blacks all hate sharks
and my crew took great pleasure in carving up those
we caught and throwing over the pieces to be eaten by
their fellows.

For five miles west and fifty miles east.of Nassau
light I have personally tried the waters. Whenever

279

WINTER AT NASSAU

the weather permits fishing at all one can be pretty
sure of getting something, usually will make a reason-
ably good catch, and every now and then will take
either an extraordinary number, something unusually
large, or a specimen that is new and strange. The un-
expected and startling is always possible. Whether
this constitutes good fishing depends upon the taste of
the individual, but it is certainly good enough for me.

All the books on fishing give elaborate directions
for the care of salt water lines, involving their being
unreeled every night, washed in fresh water, dried and
reeled up again. This will undoubtedly prolong the
life of a line, but takes much valuable time, is a tre-
mendous lot of bother, and in my opinion not worth
while. A two-hundred yard tarpon line costs three
dollars, will last a month without any care and per-
haps twice that with the devotion of at least an hour
every night to fixing itup. I prefer to buy a new line
once a month and save the fussing. An enamelled
trout fly line will last two or three years, without any
attention whatever, if used as much as my lines are.
When a good hard pull with the hand breaks the
lower end of a line a few feet can be cut off, and a new
line substituted when at last the old one gets too short
for convenient use.

The Song of the Spear

HAVE a new song to sing—

A song of shallow seas, turquoise and
purple, gleaming and clear as
glass;

=| Of quiet bays shadowed by dark over-

| hanging mangroves, with roots

like spiders;

Of wide flats, brown and yellow over the sands and
seamed with winding blue channels;

Of the solemn figures and hoarse voices of the herons
white and blue;

Of blazing sun, pale blue sky and soft and balmy
breaths of air;

Of emerald cays, ringed with white beaches sparkling
like diamonds and set in sapphire, turquoise and
amethyst.

There the great ray, the devilfish, swift, mighty, tons in
weight, spreads his huge black wings;

The sawfish, broad and strong, brandishes his serrated
blade;

The shark, stealthy, fierce and ravenous, lies in wait
for his prey;

The sea turtle, longer than a man, sleeps floating on the
quiet waters;

281

THE SONG OF THE SPEAR

The tarpon, gleaming in silver mail, leaps into the sun
and crashes back into the sea;

The porpoise rolls over the waves, appearing and van-
ishing again and again;

The stingray lurks in the shallows, ready to wield his
barbed and poisoned lance.

See the light boat steal along, driven by a noiseless
paddle;

The figure poised in the bow, erect, alert, silent and
watchful;

The heavy shaft, barbed with steel, grasped in the right
hand, the coil of line in the left.

Look! the keen eye catches the faint shadow that tells
of a great fish.

A whispered word, a cautious retreat, a circuit to avoid
the watchful eyes;

A. stealthy approach, a wave of the hand, the paddle
stops, the boat glides on without sound.

The long shaft rises slowly and is poised for the cast.

Suddenly the spear flashes through the air and vanishes
in the depths;

There is a wild rush through the water, a fierce strain
on the line;

The prey darts madly away, the barbs sunk deep in its
side;

282

THE SONG OF THE SPEAR

The boat swerves fiercely and races along, driving
surges and spray from its bow;

Then come minutes and hours of fierce struggle, of
hope and fear, confidence and despair, until at
length the quarry, exhausted, yields,

And the trophies of victory are taken, honorable, wit-
nesses of skill and endurance.

Worthy the object, the slaughter of the fierce and rav-
enous beasts of the sea.

Great is the sport, demanding patience, caution, skill,
strength and courage.

The ignorant may scoff at it and speak of it as coarse,
bloody and brutal.

Even I, the fly-fisherman, in the days of my darkness
and folly, have so believed;

But now I have learned to know better, and so will the
others also;

And sportsmen in years to come will rejoice in a new
pleasure and praise and extol it;

And some may thank me, and say, “He pointed the
way and I followed.”

So, with full heart and voice, I sing the first notes of
my new song.

The devilfish, the shark, the sawfish, the stingray, the
porpoise, the turtle of the sea;

283

THE SONG OF THE SPEAR

The light boat, the silent paddle, the watchful eye, the
cautious stalk;

The steady poise, the quick and mighty effort, the ar-
row flight of the barbed lance;

The wild rush of the quarry, the sudden and fierce
strain on the line;

The surges, the Ainge spray, the boat half full of wa-
tens

The long struggle, the hope and fear, the joy of vic-
tory, the pang of defeat;

The sport of sports, the pleasure of pleasures, the joy
of joys, the rapture of raptures;

The point, the barb, the socket and the shaft, the har-
poon, the lily iron, the turtle peg, the grains;

I sing the song of the spear.

Bull Moose—2

Practical Suggestions.

™)1G GAME shooting and the best trout,
salmon and bass fishing can only be
found far from civilization, and to
get them one must be able to travel
until the right place has been found,
and stay right in that place when it is
found. ‘To do this one must rely on
himself alone for shelter, food and
comforts, aad therefore must camp out. With proper
outfit aid supplies, good guides, and reasonably philo-
sophical and contented dispositions, even ladies and
invalids can camp in the wilderness with perfect com-
fort, in spite of the worst that wind and weather can
do; while, without these requisites, existence there will
certainly be wretched. The very dainty and critical,
and those who cannot cheerfully accept small annoy-
ances for the sake of great pleasures, had better stay in
the city. The novice should always advise with some
experienced friend before tackling the woods, for there
are no shops there and every necessary must be pro-
vided before the start, while anything not essential is
only so much dead weight to hold you back, and the
outfit and supplies strictly needed make a total mass
surprisingly large.

287

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

Guides.

Make your arrangements by letter and well in ad-
vance, and try to make sure that you get experienced
and trustworthy men. One guide for each sportsman,
and a cook beside, is the allowance to ensure entire com-
fort and convenience. Men are paid three dollars each
per day on the New Brunswick salmon streams and a
dollar and a half in Newfoundland. These are ex-
tremes and two dollars per day is a fair average rate
elsewhere. Boats or canoes furnished by the guides
should cost from twenty-five to fifty cents per day each
and the “sports” of course supply food for the whole
party. The guides should furnish their own tent and
blankets.

Supplies.

These should be purchased at the nearest point
convenient to your destination, and packed in flour
bags for ease of carriage. Everything should be
stowed in cloth sacks or tin cans, as paper bags are sure
to break and spill the contents. ‘The following list in-
cludes all the supplies for my party of four “sports”
and five guides, during a whole month in Newfound-
land last fall, and proved entirely adequate and satis-
factory. The jam, cream and other luxuries could of
course be dispensed with if necessary, but are very nice
to have along. The total seems very large, but one’s

288

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

appetite becomes very active after the first few days,
and each guide will eat twice as much as a “M’sieu.”
The total cost of the articles in this list, packages and
freight charges included, was little under one hundred
dollars.

250 pounds flour;

50 pounds corn meal;

25 pounds bacon;

25 pounds salt pork;

15 pounds butter;

10 pounds lard;

20 pounds sugar;

5 pounds table salt;

4 dozen eggs;

3 pounds tea;

10 pounds coffee;

10 pounds rice;

% pound pepper;

30 cans evaporated cream;

6 cans condensed milk;
24 jars jam;

8 pounds baking powder;

6 packages yeast cakes;
10 pounds cream of wheat;

6 pounds candles;

I pound matches;

12 loaves bread;

289

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

2 gallons maple syrup;
1 gallon molasses;
15 pounds onions;
16 pounds evaporated potatoes;
5 pounds sea biscuit;
1 dozen soup tablets;
4 pound mustard;
2 bars laundry soap;
2 cakes toilet soap;
5 pounds cheese;
1 small bottle Worcestershire sauce;
2 pounds plug tobacco;
100 feet quarter-inch rope;
1 ball twine;
1 clothes:lime;
2 packages toilet paper;
6 towels.
Total weight about 550 pounds.

Camp Outfit.

A proper camp outfit for a party of four would be
about as follows:

Two waterproof Baker tents, 914x7% feet;

Four Johnson sleeping bags, Number One (1).

Four pantasote clothes bags, 15x36 inches;

Four pantasote ponchos;

One No. 8 cooking outfit, A. & F.;

290

Mountain Sheep

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

One dish pan;

One camp baker;

Three aluminum folding candle lanterns;

Two small axes.

Total weight about one hundred and fifty pounds.

Dealers in sporting goods will furnish complete
cooking and table outfits, of tin or aluminum, varying
in number of pieces according to the size of the party.
A tin outfit for eight persons costs about eight dollars,
and I have found them very good. Purchase in addi-
tion two large iron spoons, two small butcher knives,
a camp baking oven and a dish pan.

In tents I like best the Baker model, which is
shaped like a lean-to, highest in front and lowest at the
back, and can be made perfectly tight at night and
completely ventilated by day, in which most tents de-
cidedly fail. It should be made of light waterproof
duck or waterproof silk, and be fitted with a rope ridge
and nine-inch sod cloth. Sleeping bags are lighter,
warmer and handier than blankets and much prefer-
able, and a small pillow adds greatly to one’s comfort.
Abercrombie & Fitch, of New York, make a specialty
of furnishing camping outfits, as well as sporting arti-
cles of all descriptions, and their goods can be de-
pended upon.

292

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

Guns.

The high velocity, small bore, smokeless powder
rifles of good size are quite large enough for any game
on this continent, with the possible exception of grizzly
bears, and the lightness of gun and cartridges is a great
advantage. ‘The Winchester rifle is very strong and
reliable in action, accurate and serviceable. I have
five of this make of different calibers, and of these par-
ticularly like the thirty-three, model 1886 take down,
which is light, handy, accurate and abundantly power-
ful. Lyman sights are much better than the ordinary
open sights, especially if one’s eyes are not of the best
or failing a little, as they prevent the tendency to over-
shoot, which lack of experience or poor eyesight will
always cause, and are particularly good for catching
a quick aim; but you must take care to avoid clogging
the peep sight.

If you are after big game, leave your shot gun at
home and take a little twenty-two rifle or target pistol
tor grouse, ducks and other small quarry, and a good
lot of cartridges for it. Few shells for the large rifle
are needed, unless you propose to scare the game by
shooting at a mark.

Clothing.

Take stout woolen clothing, light flannels, a
sweater or two and plenty of woolen socks, a light rub-

293

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

ber coat and boots, soft brown hat, and two pairs of
stout, easy shoes. Moccasins or moose tops are best for
stalking. Pack all the personal outfit into a waterproof
canvas war bag, putting your small articles in a little
bag which packs inside the big one.

Fly Dope.

From June to September first the northern coun-
try is infested with black flies, punkies and mosquitoes,
so as to make comfort impossible without protection.
Most of the advertised preventives are disagreeable to
use and many of them give very little help. Head nets
protect, but are a great nuisance. I have found the oil
of citronella very effective and not at all unpleasant.
Carry a two-ounce bottle in your pocket and apply
every hour, and you will not be seriously annoyed by
flies. A piece of mosquito netting about six feet square,
hung by the center so as to make a little tent over the
pillow, will give complete immunity at night and is
often very necessary.

Fishing Tackle.

For trout fishing I should get the following outfit:
One good split bamboo rod, nine feet six inches
long and weighing about six ounces. Such a rod is
light enough for small trout and still, if you have to

204

Mountain Sheep

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

stop a big one short to keep him out of snags or brush,
has backbone enough to do it.

One rubber multiplying reel; small.

One Bray fly book, to hold twelve dozen flies.

Twenty-five yards enamelled waterproof line,
size,

One dozen best leaders, six feet long, six light,
three heavy, three extra light.

Ten dozen assorted flies, eights and tens. One
dozen midges, one dozen fours.

One square bottom landing net, with long and
short handles.

One leader box. One canvas or willow creel.

Get everything of the best quality. Cheap tackle
will fail just when you need it most.

For trolling use small cyclone spinner with Par-
macheene Belle fly, for trout, and the same spinner
with scarlet Ibis fly for bass. For lake trout use Skin-
ner spoon or Buel spinner with blade one and one-half
inches long, or Archer spinner with good sized min-
now.

For bait casting, for bass or other fish of moderate
size, use a Henshall or other good casting rod, six to
seven feet long, with fine quality multiplier and forty
yards of C or D enamelled line. Such a rod is also
suitable for trolling. The Bristol steel rods are excel-
lent for bait fishing or surface trolling, but should

206

Mountain Sheep—3

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

never be used in sea fishing, as they rust badly. For
deep trolling nothing is so effective as annealed copper
wire. This is awkward to use but gets the spoon or
bait down where the fish are, and will take twice as
many fish over the same ground as an ordinary trol-
ling line. Two hundred feet of gauge twenty-two is
just about right.

In General.

Go light; cut off every unnecessary ounce of
weight. Don’t break the game laws. Take no whis-
key. Be patient and cheerful if luck or weather go
against you. Stick to it and keep your temper. ‘To
cry or swear over your troubles does not help any,
while to laugh at them makes them much less impor-
tant. Understand that big game shooting is hard
work, and be prepared to tramp long distances over
rough ground, run when necessary, get up early and
stay up late, and take sunshine and storm as they
come. Even where moose and deer are most abundant
you will find very few tied to trees for your con-
venience.

Horn Measurements

M oose—
Maximum spread, 55% inches
Round horn, Ta te
Length of antler, 38 .
Palms, 8x25 ‘
Front palms, 8x12 i
Points, 19

Shot near Whitefish Bay, Lake ‘Temagami, On-
tario, October, 1902.

The points on these horns are unusually long and
the front palms are large, distinct, exactly matched
and each bears three points of about nine inches in

length.
Elk—
Length on curve, §4, inches
Round horn, Blane:
Spread, 36 Fe
Points, 19

Shot in the Elkhead Mountains, Routt County,
Colorado, September, 1894; a very heavy, regular and
handsome head.

Caribou—
Length on curve, 38) inches
Round horn, Os ee
Spread, 32 of
Points, | 36

HORN MEASUREMENTS

Shot in Newfoundland, September, 1903. These
antlers are good weight, very regular and well pal-
mated. The front paddles are large, well matched and
the points interlock.

Blacktail or Mule Deer—

Length on curve, 18'4 inches
Round horn, ye ie
Spread, 18 es
Points, 10

Shot in Elkhead Mountains, September, 1894. A
small regular head.
Virginia Deer—

Length on curve, 22 finches
Round horn, 4 i;
Spread, wine, .*
Points, 8

Shot at Meacham Lake, New York, October,
1896. A large and regular head.

Mountain Sheep—

Length on curve, 38. - inches
Round base of horn, 161% .
Spread, BID na

Given to the writer by his father, John Strong
Newberry, M. D., LL. D., late of Columbia College,
New York.

A very large and beautiful head, with perfect
norns.

300

Fifty Pound Kingfish

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My Biggest Fish

PECKLED TROUT—
Weight); 3.lbss15-oz:

Sault St. Marie Rapids, August,
1881. Six oz. lancewood fly rod,
Minnow bait.

Black Bass, Small mouth—
Weight, 5 lbs. 4 0z.
Length, 21% inches.

Small lake near Kippewa in Northern Quebec,
Sept., 1901, Six oz. split bamboo fly rod, short tip,
scarlet Ibis fly on small spinner.

Salmon—

Weight, 6 pounds.
Hinds Brook, Newfoundland, September, 1903.
Six ounce split bamboo fly rod. No. 8 Abbey fly.

Pike—
Length, 42 inches.
Weight, 14 pounds.

Meacham Lake, August, 1902. Six ounce split
bamboo fly rod, short tip, number five Skinner spoon.

The pike shown in picture, page one hundred and
fifty-three, was caught by Arthur Cleveland Newberry
in Batchawaung Bay, Lake Superior, September, 1902,
and weighed thirty-five pounds.

303

MY BIGGEST FISH

Grayling—
Length, 16 inches.
Weight, 114 pounds.

Manistee River, Michigan, August, 1900. Six
ounce fly rod, No. 12 fly.

Blue fish—
Weight, 1214 pounds.
Outside Sandy Hook, June, 1876. Trolling squid.
Barracuda—
Length, 4 feet, 6 inches.
Weight, 30 pounds.

Alligator Light, Florida, January, 1905. ‘Tarpon
tackle, cut bait, a very slender specimen.

Amberjack—
Length, 4 feet, 3 inches.
Weight, 5214 pounds.
Nassau. Tackle as above.
Grouper—
Length, 3\feet, 8 imches,
Weight (estimated), 75 pounds.

Alligator Light. Tarpon tackle, cut bait.

Spanish Mackerel—
Length, 2 feet, 3 inches:
Weight, 12 pounds.
Nassau. Same tackle.

304

Whitetail Buck—zr

MY BIGGEST FISH

Kingfish (Cero )—

Length, 4 feet. 9 mches:
Weight, 55 pounds.

Nassau. ‘Tarpon tackle.

Shark (on rod)---

Length, 6 feet, 9 inches.
Weight (estimated), 100 pounds.

Nassau. ‘Tarpon tackle.

306

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