Coin' Fishin' 



"Oh, Ranger, where can I catch some fish ?" 



Sometimes that question is a hard one to answer. It isn't always the 

 fault of the fish, either. There are anglers and anglers, in the national 

 parks. Some seem to be able to step out and catch trout in the morning, 

 in the evening, any time. Others have no luck, even when they are wear 

 ing a rabbit's paw, a horseshoe, a turkey wishbone, and a Columbian 

 half-dollar, all at the same time. The wary trout is no respecter of good- 

 luck omens. Catching him calls for an indefinable something that some 

 call fisherman's luck, that others call skill whatever it is, you need it 

 when you are "goin' fishin'." 



"Where can I catch some fish?" 



The Old-Timer always plays safe by answering, "Well, Sir, I'll tell 

 you where I saw some nice ones, and I wouldn't be surprised if you 

 could catch a few of them." 



Knowing where the fish are is half the game, when you are goin' 

 fishin'. There isn't much use fishing in waters where there are no fish 

 to be tempted by your lure. Not long ago there appeared an article by 

 Herbert Hoover, honorary president of the Izaak Walton League, in 

 which the writer contended that it was the inalienable right of every 

 American to catch a nice string of fish at least once each year. He 

 touched upon the ennobling and uplifting effect this would have upon 

 the American's soul, and indicated that as a panacea for unrest, discon 

 tent, and so on, there was nothing in the world like goin' fishin'. He 

 advocated the expenditure of sufficient funds to see that all good fish 

 waters of the country be adequately stocked with the right kind of fish. 

 Then at least the fish would be there to be caught, and the man who 

 could not catch his share would have nobody but himself to blame. 



The rangers have noted the spiritual aspects of catching fish and 

 have subscribed for a long time to the proposi 

 tion that everybody ought to catch fish. They 

 have made considerable headway already in the 

 matter of stocking the barren waters of the 

 national parks. To do this they have on nu 

 merous occasions carried cans of tiny trout to 

 remote streams and lakes high in the moun 

 tains, sometimes on horseback, often on foot, 

 strapping the cans on their backs. That is 

 work, as anyone who has carried a five-gallon 

 can of water for five miles over a rocky trail can 



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