Tragic Fishing Moments 



that score if I could only choke that big sunnie. Such 

 a capture would silence Ginger forever. 



Either the sunnie was too wily or my worms were 

 too small or tender. In desperation I started digging, 

 and at last captured a " slimy " as thick as a lead 

 pencil. I tied my string tightly about his middle and 

 threw him into the hole. Mr. Sunnie made a dash, 

 and I waited long enough for him to gorge the worm 

 and choke "hisse'f," when I jerked him bodily out of 

 the pond. But alas! he wasn't well choked, for he 

 dropped too near the edge, flopping back into the pond 

 before I could grab him. The splash he made was 

 my earliest tragic fishing moment. My next was prob- 

 ably with an eel, although I remember them with 

 goggle-eyes, bullheads, silver chubs, suckers and perch. 

 Once I lost a " stink-pot " and another time a big 

 " snapper " turtle. 



One fine day my Dad put a fly-rod into my hands. 

 From that time to the present my tragic moments had 

 to do with game fish. Those with trout had more 

 to do with mere size than gameness. The land-locked 

 salmon and the fresh water black bass tell another 

 story. It's hard to pick and choose between their 

 merits. The salmon broke water oftener and was a 

 bit faster, but the less spectacular bass seemed stronger 

 in his rushes. They are rarely met together under 

 the same conditions. " How then shall we come to 

 a knowledge of it? " saith the examiner. 



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