FISHING AT HOME AND ABROAD 

 I have always wished to visit the Feather River in California, as I fancy 

 that it is good dry-fly water. Several years ago I read a very pleasant 

 article on it, which I cannot place. The origin of the name is interesting. 

 There are many willows on the banks of this stream, and their drooping 

 branches nod over the clear water, occasionally touching, or almost touch- 

 ing, the ripples made by the gentle up-stream wind. The Indians, who 

 were formerly in possession of this region, were keen enough to take 

 advantage of these conditions, as they tied the small feathers from wild 

 geese and ducks to the ends of these branches, which bobbed and swayed 

 in the breeze. The big rainbow trout would leap again and again at these 

 crude " flies," offering a fine opportunity to the crafty redskin, who lay 

 in ambush with his long spear, or bow and arrows. The first white man 

 who visited the country saw all these bunches of feathers as he gazed up 

 the beautiful stream, and at once christened it the Feather River. 



The ideal water should be prolific of insect life as the heaviest trout will 

 take an interest in surface food when there is a big batch of natural flies, 

 particularly if these are of large size. We have many species of the 

 larger £phemerid£e, and when any of these are really well on, the fly- 

 fisher, and particularly the dry-fly purist, is in his element. At the time 

 of writing I am in the Neversink and between heat and drought the birth 

 of flies had ceased almost entirely, except for those caddis flies that rise 

 at night. Now the welcome rain has been falling since early yesterday 

 morning, the stream at my right hand has been steadily creeping up and 

 up, but is, as yet, perfectly clear. It is that beautiful white water that is 

 not common even in clear streams, and the bottom is covered with light- 

 coloured stones, yellow sand and gravel. Here and there great rocks 

 appear, and wooded mountains fence the valley on either hand. These 

 prolonged droughts at one season and floods of water at another have 

 greatly injured a number of our finest rivers during the past ten years. 

 It is the old story of the destruction of the big evergreen timber, denuding 

 the hills and mountains of the cover that held back much water, as in a 

 sponge, and gave it out gradually. 



What we call a five -ounce tournament rod is a pleasant tool for the dry- 

 fly angler. It has lots of backbone and carries a fairly heavy line, an 

 E tapered, for instance. There is not much weight outboard, as it is only 

 nine feet long and balances nicely with the reel and line in place. Some 

 men prefer a powerful ten-footer, but one should be quite fit, and be pos- 

 sessed of a good wrist and arm, to cast all day without undue fatigue. I 

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