A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



in the lakes they are of a lustre and bril- 

 liancy impossible to describe. 



These waters have been much visited of 

 late years by fishing parties, and the name 

 of Beaver Kill is now a potent word among 

 New York sportsmen. 



One lake, in the wilds of Callikoon, 

 abounds in a peculiar species of white 

 sucker, which is of excellent quality. It is 

 taken only in spring, during the spawning 

 season, at the time " when the leaves are 

 as big as a chipmunk's ears." The fish run 

 up the small streams and inlets, beginning 

 at nightfall, and continuing till the chan- 

 nel is literally packed with them, and every 

 inch of space is occupied. The fishermen 

 pounce upon them at such times, and scoop 

 them up by the bushel, usually wading right 

 into the living mass and landing the fish 

 with their hands. A small party will often 

 secure in this manner a wagon load of fish. 

 Certain conditions of the weather, as a warm 

 south or southwest wind, are considered 

 most favorable for the fish to run. 



Though familiar all my life with the out- 

 skirts of this region, I have only twice 

 dipped into its wilder portions. Once in 

 1 860 a friend and myself traced the Beaver 



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