TARPON FISHING IN THE PASS 



to which a hooked tarpon will jump, and in the case of so 

 large a fish, and such rapid movements, this is liable to be 

 underrated. Ordinarily the tarpon jumps only when hooked, 

 for the obvious purpose of flinging out the hook, but these 

 fish have also been seen to jump without such provocation, 

 probably to fling off a remora, like the rays do, or some other 

 irritant, and it may perhaps take the hook for some prickly 

 kind of crab that it has inadvertently swallowed and desires at 

 all cost to be rid of. Mr. Dimock, whose wonderful instan- 

 taneous photographs of leaping tarpon have lately familiarised 

 people at home with a sight that we formerly had to go to 

 Florida to see, gives the height as at any rate ten feet, and this 

 habit of making several jumps while being played, much as it 

 enhances the attractions of the tarpon as a sporting fish, un- 

 doubtedly plays into its captor's hands, tiring it out far more 

 than its struggles under water. It is because the tuna, mis- 

 called " leaping," never jumps when hooked, but at once 

 settles down to a dogged fight for its life as deep down as it 

 can get, that it is, weight for weight, a far more redoubtable 

 antagonist. Yet any fish that jumps, be it salmon, trout, or 

 tarpon, undoubtedly affords more excitement than one which, 

 like a black grouper or jewfish, or some other bulldog of those 

 seas, merely tries to burrow to the bottom and never gives the 

 frenzied leaps and wild rushes so characteristic of the tarpon. 

 Thus it is, for the angler, a fish above reproach, since even the 

 most hardened salmon-fisher may well be taken aback by the 

 speed and violence of its mad rushes. It is game to the back- 

 bone and is game to the last. Notwithstanding its great size, 



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