126 BY- WA YS AND BIRD-NO TES. 



early in the spring. It was also the nesting- 

 place of a pair of cardinal-grosbeaks, whose 

 Well-built home I discovered fitted neatly be 

 tween three strong reeds. Soon in the morn 

 ing the male would alight on the highest point 

 above the nest and whistle bravely, his plum 

 age shining like dull red fire 



There is no craft like a dug-out, that genu 

 ine Indian pirogue, for perfect gentleness and 

 sweetness of motion. You sit on a seat hewn 

 in the stern and ply a short, rather broad 

 paddle. The long, slender boat is all before 

 you, the prow well up, like a pug nose. The 

 round, smooth bottom slips along almost on top 

 of the water, as if running over ice. In such a 

 pirogue we would paddle around the island 

 and troll far bass, often catching wonderfully 

 game fellows of over four pounds in weight. 

 This silent gliding of the dug-out makes it par 

 excellence the angler s craft. There is no rat 

 tling of rowlock and thole-pin, no oar-dip. 

 Your paddle goes in silently, it comes out with 

 not even the slightest ripple-break. The 

 bass and bream are utterly unaware of your 

 movements. 



Speaking of bream, as the Southerners call 

 the blue-perch, it is a royal fish. You find 

 it in the eddies and swirls of those Georgian 

 brooks and rivers, a voracious feeder, taking 

 the worm with all the vigor of a trout. You 

 use a rather heavy reed for a rod, rigged with 

 a small reel. The larvae of wasps and angle 

 worms are the most killing baits. A bream 

 weighing ten ounces will give you a lively run, 

 testing your skill equal to a speckled trout of a 

 like size. It comes out of the water shining 

 with royal purple and yellowish waves of color. 



