180 THE STURGEON. 
The first glance at a sturgeon would lead 
any one accustomed to fish, to decide at once 
that it must be a ground-feeder: the form and 
position of the mouth, the lengthened snout, 
the barbels, the ventral fins so far back, the 
large size of the pectorals—as I have already 
stated—all clearly evidence a habit of grubbing- 
up food of various kinds near the bottom, and 
browsing off shelled molluscs adhering to sticks 
or stones. They also indulge in small fish: 
eulachon are oily dainties they seem particularly 
to appreciate; and the Indians say sturgeon are 
never so fat and good as in ‘eulachon time.’ 
Small blame to the sturgeon for appreciating 
such delicious fish. 
During the time the Fraser and Columbia 
rivers are rising,—-and the rise is very rapid, 
about thirty feet above the winter level, owing to 
the melting snow,—sturgeon are continually leap- 
ing. As you are paddling quietly along in a canoe, 
suddenly one of these monsters flings itself into 
the air many feet above the surface of the water, 
falling back again with a splash, as though a 
huge rock had been pitched into the river by some 
Titan hand. It appears to be only play, as they 
never leap for insect-food; neither have | ever 
observed them do it during low-water; perhaps 
