THE BOOK OF THE PIKE 



not become popular for heavy fishing if constructed 

 from some other material. Aluminum is too soft a 

 metal for reels.) The fly for the morning was a rather 

 large buck-tail with a red "tag," a conspicuous fly on 

 dark water and one that has proven uniformly at- 

 tractive to great pike. 



Reaching the field of operation, I sent the light craft 

 along just within casting distance of the fringing weeds 

 and grass, for it is never the part of wisdom when 

 doing any fishing to 'stretch the cast," to cast beyond 

 control. Not a breeze ruffled the surface, something 

 which obtains usually only early in the morning along 

 Superior's fretful shore. I cast easily, the hair and 

 feather fly landing with a little splash just at the edge 

 of a bed of pickerel weed, a plant which my readers 

 will remember Father Walton thought mothered the 

 mighty "Luce." Probably because my mind was busy 

 with the ancient history of the fish I was seeking, I 

 missed my first rise. There was a splash, a flash of 

 green and white, and a fish shot from the weeds into 

 the depths. I did not cast a second time, for the fish 

 had gone out and down, and some little time, I knew, 

 would elapse before my game would return to his 

 lair. I beg the reader to remember that the great 

 pike is not only a lover of solitude, but he is also more 

 shy than he is given credit with being by most fisher- 

 men. While the fish will often follow a lure right up 

 to a boat's side, the angler will discover that he will 

 take more fish in the course of a day's casting if he 

 deport himself as though his quarry were as shy as 

 the speckled denizen of our cold-water brooklets. 



A resounding splash "like a log falling into the water" 

 notified me that somewhere above a mighty leviathan 



90 



