PICKEREL FISHING 325 



of us having his own. But to step into that of 

 the pickerel fishermen of a midwinter day adds 

 zest to the excursion. 



They are quite like the juncos, to me, these 

 genial men of the frozen day. They suddenly 

 appear from I know not where, share the joys 

 of the day and place for a brief time, then walk 

 off the ice again with their traps, going I know 

 not whither. The next day in all probability, if 

 it be a good one for fishing, others will come to 

 fish in the same places and in the same way, but 

 not usually the same men. Thus the winter wan- 

 dering birds appear, take their toll of the day 

 and the earth on which it shines, give the joy of 

 their presence to all who seek it understandingly, 

 then vanish. It would seem as if the pickerel 

 fishermen were a distinct species, like the tree 

 sparrows and the pine grosbeaks, winter visitors 

 not to be looked for in warm weather, folk who 

 pass from pond to pond, taking toll of all and 

 thus learning their characteristics so definitely, 

 though this seems hardly probable. Probably 

 my pickerel fishermen of yesterday are artisans 

 today, bookkeepers perhaps or salesmen, so dif- 

 ferently dressed and occupied, their talk of such 

 different things that I would not know them, for 



