FISHING 87 



have them in a tiny pond in the Lowlands, 

 fed by a hill burn, where they do well and are 

 greedy beyond words, as the following story 

 will show. One morning in September a big 

 rainbow broke the worm tackle with which I 

 had hooked him. That evening I landed a 

 good one, also with worm, which proved to be 

 my friend of the morning, as coming out of his 

 mouth was the broken gut and right down in 

 his stomach the hook. Besides, in his lip was 

 a March brown fly hook which, according to a 

 note in my fishing book, must have been there 

 since 24th June. A fish with a fly hook in his 

 mouth, a worm hook in his stomach, ready to 

 continue to gulp down bait, must surely be 

 quite impervious to what we mortals call pain. 

 I may add I have a truthful witness to this 

 event, and it is not the usual fishing lie. 



Worm fishing in hill burns is another very 

 fascinating ploy, more perhaps for the charm 

 of surroundings, among the hills and heather, 

 the call of the grouse and moorland birds, 

 than for the actual result of the basket. Cer- 

 tainly there it is quantity more than quality 



