59 



THE BANN AT KILREA. 



AUTUMN ANGLING. 



Paraphrasing a well-woi^a adage let me preface nay 

 remarks upon autumn fishing by sa;ying that none of it is 

 bad, only some forms of it are better than others. Per- 

 sonally, I have a predilection for the catching of freshly- 

 run, autumn salmon, and I am prepared to join issue with 

 all and sundry who speak contemptuously of this branch 

 of our sport. It is not the capture of " potted " fish — as 

 red as a copper coal-scuttle — that delights me ; it is those 

 big, heavy fellows that I go for, who defer their return 

 to fresh water until the autumn floods give them a clear 

 course to their breeding grounds. There are not a great 

 many Irish rivers which get this late run of clean fish, 

 but I Icnow a few that do, and on these it has been my habit, 

 for many years past, to wind up the back end of the fly- 

 fishing season. With your gun to fall back on, when 

 the river is running as thick as Dublin stout, there are 

 snipe to be had for the asking in this hospitable island, 

 wherever a bog exists — and where is the watershed that 

 does not abound in bogs, and " snipes " ? Sea trout there 

 are, too, in plenty ; if you only go to the right places ; 

 but with the approach of October, I am satiated with 

 the slaughter of " trouts," I want something more sub- 

 stantial. With that craving for " fresh fields and pas- 

 tures new," which is common to our craft, I have wan- 

 dered from one river to another, in pursuit of autumn 

 sport, but I always drift back to my old love, the Bann, 

 and confess, with something akin to shame, that in run- 

 ning after something better, I have — like the dog in the 

 fable — grasped at the shadow and lost the substance. 

 Taken all round, the Bann, from the middle of September 



