TALES OF FISHES 



der, and at last the achievement. The season of 

 1918 we hooked about fifty bonefish on three-six 

 tackles — that is, three-ounce tips and six-thread 

 lines — and we landed fourteen of them. I caught 

 nine and R. C. caught five. R. C.'s eight-pound 

 fish justified our contention and crowned our efforts. 



To date, in all my experience, I consider this 

 bonefish achievement the most thrilling, fascinat- 

 ing, diflficult, and instructive. That is a broad state- 

 ment and I hope I can prove it. I am prepared to 

 state that I feel almost certain, if I spent another 

 month bonefishing, I would become obsessed and 

 perhaps lose my enthusiasm for other kinds of fish. 



Why? 



There is a multiplicity of reasons. My reasons 

 range from the exceedingly graceful beauty of a bone- 

 fish to the fact that he is the best food fish I ever 

 ate. That is a wide range. He is the wisest, shy- 

 est, wariest, strangest fish I ever studied; and I 

 am not excepting the great Xiphias gladius — the 

 broadbill swordfish. As for the speed of a bonefish, 

 I claim no salmon, no barracuda, no other fish cele- 

 brated for swiftness of motion, is in his class. A 

 bonefish is so incredibly fast that it was a long time 

 before I could believe the evidence of my own eyes. 

 You see him; he is there perfectly still in the clear, 

 shallow water, a creature of fish shape, pale green 

 and silver, but crystal-like, a phantom shape, star- 

 ing at you with strange black eyes; then he is gone. 

 Vanished! Absolutely without your seeing a move- 

 ment, even a faint streak! By peering keenly you 

 may discern a little swirl in the water. As for the 

 strength of a bonefish, I actually hesitate to give my 



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