A February Day on the Dee 



second gives no better results, and one's early enthusiasm 

 begins to wane. But the best pool of the water is close at 

 hand, and here at least, says the ghillie, there are fresh-run 

 salmon in plenty, and success is sure to follow. A long deep 

 pool, this, spanned by a bridge near its middle; a strong 

 current near the top of the pool, gradually slackening till, 

 near the tail, in this low water, the river's motion is scarce 

 perceptible. This pool is fished from a boat, and on rowing 

 up to the head of the stream we pass, resting moribund near 

 the water's edge, a diseased salmon with fungus growing 

 thick upon it. On the far side of the stream a fisherman 

 on the opposite bank has landed a small silvery spring 

 salmon, and up and down the pool fish break the surface 

 of the water. 



A few casts, then a tightening of the line — a false alarm, 

 a small ice floe fouled the line in its passing. The tempera- 

 ture of the water this morning is only 33 degrees Fahrenheit 

 — one degree above freezing point — and only a slight frost is 

 needed to fill the river with floating ice or "grue." After a 

 disheartening spell of unprofitable casting over waters 

 apparently in perfect order a salmon at last rises to the fly 

 — a white-winged Ackroyd — but he comes short, and in the 

 slack water, with a strong wind "sagging" the line into the 

 bargain, the hook is not driven home. 



From this point onwards the pool seems full of fish. 

 From the boat one can see them plainly in the clear depths, 

 large 20-pounders and small spring fish of from 6 to 8 

 pounds. But the water is too clear. Not a rise, save indeed 

 where a fish, excited by the fly, leaps near it clear out of the 

 water, rewards the most careful and assiduous casting. The 

 fly is changed no fewer than four times without result. The 

 wind rapidly increases. In the pine wood above, the trees 

 toss and sway, and the deep sighing of the wind is borne 

 across to us on the river. Casting becomes difficult, for the 

 wind blows now this way, now that, and the boat becomes 

 hard to manage. To make matters worse the early after- 



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