2 THE FINE ART OF FISHING 



Of course, to a certain extent, one can describe the 

 typical trout stream. It is not a large stream; rather, 

 a big brook or little river. Its banks are pleasantly 

 wooded, with here and there a small clearing where 

 one time some logging job extended to the water's edge. 

 Alternately there are hurrying, turbulent rapids or 

 shallow, clear, swift-running riffles and deep, opaque 

 pools whose surfaces reflect the pines and hemlocks and 

 in whose depths the aldermen of the river repose in 

 dignified inertia. Occasionally there are falls where the 

 stream foams down many feet in a graceful, white, out- 

 bending ribbon. And again there are long, still reaches 

 where the current is scarcely perceptible and where, if 

 you would land a trout, you must indeed cast "fine and 

 far off." 



But no word-picture of the characteristics of the 

 trout stream portrays in the slightest degree the charac- 

 teristics of that same stream from the fly-fisherman's 

 point of view. While he is fully aware of the natural 

 beauties of the stream, the angler is apt to regard it more 

 or less technically. And in this technicality of view- 

 point, difficult in itself to define, lies the still greater 

 difficulty of explaining the true relation of the stream 

 to the stream fisherman. 



One can also describe the fly-caster's tackle; the 

 graceful, resilient split-bamboo; the delicate yet, when 

 well selected, steel-strong lines and leaders; and the 

 various flies, each having its special connotation for the 

 experienced fly-caster. But these comprise merely the 

 mechanical part of the game. The operation of cast- 

 ing the fly may also be explained, but this, too, is purely 



