FLY-FISHING FOR GREAT PIKE 



was feeding. Without casting, and disturbing the 

 water as little as possible with my paddle, I edged my 

 light craft along. (Therein lies the great advantage 

 of the canoe for any fishing — quietness and ease in 

 handling.) Slowly I made my way upward, ever on 

 the lookout for the leviathan's lurking place. A bed 

 of spatter-dock, with a forest of cat-tails close inshore, 

 held my attention, my fish sense telling me that it 

 must be the home of the monster whose plunge I had 

 heard. 



Replacing my combination buck-tail with an ex- 

 aggerated scarlet' ibis of my own manufacture, I sent 

 the bunch of brilliant feathers through the air, to land 

 with an audible "plop" just at the edge of the floating 

 broad leaves. Nothing stirred, so I waited for the fly 

 to sink. As the feathers were dry, perhaps three 

 minutes passed before the little spot of color disap- 

 peared beneath the surface. Then, with the "jerk-and- 

 wait" movement, I began to reel in the line. Before 

 the lure had traveled far, came a rush, a mighty 

 wallowing splash, and my rod was bending perilously, 

 while the thrumming line whispered of danger. Then 

 was disclosed the advantage of a multiplying reel for 

 great pike fly-fishing. I was compelled to fight the 

 fish in a circumscribed area. Remember, I was in a 

 narrow slough, comparable to a river, with weed- and 

 reed-marged shores upon either side. The first act of 

 the fish was to rush to, and under, the canoe. It was 

 but the act of a second on my part to throw a loop of 

 line around the bow and gently snub my capture before 

 he reached the protection of the weeds upon the far 

 side. How he fought to enter them! Wallowing 

 upon the surface, throwing up a smother of spray. 



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