FOREST AND STREAM 
317 
us in nut watcli for birds(l) S. never smokes, and thereby 
has nothing to console him when the flights are slow—al 
least nothing apparent, but he certainly makes up for the 
loss when they do come, distracting his thousLits by the 
destruction oE birds. One good thing about this bay bird 
Shooting is that the more gunners there are on Lite marshes 
the better the sport is apt to be, as the birds are thus kept 
moving all the time; there are also, as a consequence, moie 
faces at the table at the house, and a corresponding amount 
Of “chinning” about guns, etc., in the wide “reception- 
room” when supper is over. Robinson Crusoe, nervous 
chap that he was, received no severer shock at the sight of 
the footprint on lire shores than the writer lias felt at be¬ 
holding, in Hie sand of the trout brook, the print of “some 
Idler's” shoe that had just got in ahead; so while trout 
fishing is to be enjoyed best by not more Ilian two at once 
on the snme stream, bay bird shooting affords ample room 
for scores of gunners on the same meadow—but I forget, 
those vessels. 
From our boat resting on the bar that afternoon, while 
the tide was coming down, we eouldsee, as in the morn¬ 
ing, the white sheen of the sails of numerous ships and 
coasters, large and small; there were traders front neigh¬ 
boring ports running' close inshore, and Hie fruit and oys¬ 
ter boats of the coast below, while further out, dimly 
showing their upper rigging, were the greater ships bound 
for a distant sea, steering out over the surface of the ocean 
that was looking that day as forbidding and wild and sav¬ 
age as when of old the timid navigators of Italy and the 
North crept along within sight of their coasts for fear of 
tho fabled “sirens" of the deep. It was frowning and 
roaring, when we looked across the sand hills, as when la¬ 
ter in history sailorswere growing bolder, and steering by 
the stars out of sight of land, were talking with wonder 
of him of Genoa,'the master spirit of that age, who had 
just shown the way across the sea. Lying in tho boat, 
watching the sails was lazy woik, hut there were no birds 
flying as yet, so wo could do nothing but wait for the tide 
to fall. 
"1 have glitps that went to sea more than fifty years fteo, 
None Inivo yet come back, to me, but keep sailing to and fro; 
1 have seen them in my sleep, plunging through Hie shoreless 
deep, 
Willi tattered sails ami bat tered bulls. 
While around them screamed the gulfs, 
Flying low, flying low! 
*• l have waited on the piers, gazing for them down the bars, 
Days and nights for many years, till I turned heartsick away; 
But the pilots when they land, come and take mu by the hand, 
Saying, 'You will live to see 
Your proud vessels come from sea, 
One and all, one and all!’" 
Thut poem is a metaphor that goes straight to the hearts 
of its readers; it is a song as old as language, and the pas¬ 
sion expressed as common to us all as tile hunger anil thirst 
of physical life. We send out our ambitions and hopes 
and desires very early, some as far back as school time, 
and they leave us every year; some that should lake but 
little time for the journey, and others Hint if returned at 
all, may come when their arrival will bring no joy for us. 
The complaint of a lifetime is in those six verses, and the 
fulfillment of the desires of the heart can bespoken with 
truth, as of ships at sea. The sailors of the port who have, 
likewise, their ventures on the same sea, if they be friends 
will comfort us in time of wreck all they can, for they 
have passed through the Bame storms; the wailing and 
watching during the long nights; this vessel that brought 
hack no return for the long voyage, and that one In partic 
ular, with its rich promise, that was utterly wrecked just 
in sight of port. ■ Borne of ns have known it till, and the 
occasional wanderer that returns only makes the delay less 
dreary for a moment, and then we return to hoping and 
watching for one more that perchance was wrecked while 
we slept but an hour. How they have wandered since 
they sailed away! Although we itave dreamt of some of 
them many times, present witii us asleep as well as awake, 
they are absent Still the same. 
The gulls hovered over us continually during the morn¬ 
ing on the meadows, and offered good practice at their ele- 
vaLion. Very soon little patches of mud began to show 
above the water, and the birds commenced to stir about; 
little flocks of beach birds were the spies sent Out to see if 
the tide was down, aud then the shooting began. Atone 
time S. and myself were out of shells, our boxes being in 
the boat that Jake Was using to gather the floating birds, 
while wc stood in the mud on the bar, little concealment 
being necessary, as the birds were very tame. 
IV e killed that day 108 birds, embracing robin snipes, 
graybaeks, bullhead plovers, and black-breasted snipe—that 
is, we gathered that number, besides losing about twenty 
that fell in the grass and water. Wednesday, shooting 
only five hours, we got 38, and Thursday afternoon I came 
up to the city. S. lulled 64 alone. Next August will bo 
the time, and I hope that month will fllid me there. 
Music. 
For Forest ana Stream. 
JACKING IN THE NORTH WOODS. 
A S I sat at my desk this afternoon, worn ont from the 
effects of a very busy day, my thoughts were irrisist.- 
ably turned toward the old North VVoocU in general, and to 
one memorable night in particular. Half closing my eyes 
I could see the little bark shanty on the side of the lake, 
the sun gradually sinking in the west, Ihe pork frying in 
the pan, and the trout all ready on a clean ciiip awaiting 
their introduction to the hot lard and afterwards to my ex¬ 
pectant, palate. The boat, drawn half way up the beach, 
was having the jack pole HUed to the hole in the how, and 
the last touches of the experieueed hand of old John were 
given t.o the two candles, so that there should he no mistake 
when the signal of light-up was given, when we should 
hear the “swaSli-swashuig" Of the old fellow whose tracks 
we saw in the inlet while we were catching our supper. 
The sun lias gone aud the trout are Safely slowed away 
under our jackets; we fill our pipes and wait until it is 
Sufficiently dark to warrant our starling out. It is nine 
o’clock, the moon has gone, and the slight breeze which 
had for a time Kept tlie leaves of tiie tall poplar that stood 
among the cedars on the margin of the lake quivering aud 
rattling died away, and nothing save an occasional ho! ho! 
bo-a I of au owl or the croaking of a frog broke the 
stillness of tho niglit. I knock the ashes froin my pipe, 
and putting two fresh cartridges in my gun, [ call Joint. 
Groping our way to the boat, we gel. in and silently paddle 
aeioss tho lake to the marsh on the oilier side. Slopping to 
to listen my heart gives a jump as. I Lin muskrats, frightened 
m, lor lit,. 
by tiie sight of the boat, dive below the surface and make 
such a splashing that I surely think it must he a deer, hut 
a minute’s consideration convinces me that it is a false 
alarm, and waiting long enough to he satisfied that 1 am 
mistaken, I whisper to John to try the head of the lake. 
Backing ont from the shore he turns the bow toward tli e 
inlet, while 1, making myself as comfortable as my cramped 
up legs and now aching hack will allow, take lessons in 
astronomy froru the reflections of the stars in the water. 
For fifteen or twenty minutes uothing is heard but the 
stealthy dip of the paddle as we work our way toward tiie 
head; on rounding a point the momentum of the boat is 
stopped, as we are now nearing one of the favorite feeding 
grounds for deer. A suppressed hist from John tells me 
he hears our game; waiting long enough to satisfy myself 
that I am not mistaken this lime, I strike a match and 
gently raise the blazing splinter toward the jack, fearing 
every instant that it will go out, or that the deer, startled 
by the sound of tho scratching, may take alarm and 
whistle us his good-bye as he bounds away to a safe retreat 
up the side of Hie mountain. The candles flicker and 
snap as the heat touches their damp wicks, but finally 
burn up bright and clear. I slowly turn the jack shore¬ 
ward, and, through the fog which has commenced to form 
on the surface tiie water, I can see the ghostly form of a 
deer, ids eyes shining like two balls of Are, his head up, 
and ears thrown back gaseing al the lights that were, to 
him, sailing over the water. Bringing my gun to bear so 
as to cover his shoulder, I pull lbe“ trigger. The loud re¬ 
port die3 away in a hundred echoes, ana then all is still. 
When the smoke lots drifted away we land the boat, take 
out Hie jack, and search for our game, fn a few minutes 
we come upon him where he fell. It takes hut a minute to 
bleed and drag him down to the boat. Blowing out the 
lights, we put out the oars and return to camp. His heart 
broiled over the embers, together with a cup of hot tea, 
takes the chill from our hones, and wrapping our blankets 
around us we lie down on our hemlock couch well satisfied 
with our night’s adventure. Tauawub, 
Mew York, May 33d. 
For Forest and stream. 
i/ THE BEAVER RIVER. 
F OR pure air and water, beauty of scenery, Mr speckled 
trout fishing, neat aud cleanly quarters, good boating 
aud good board al low prices, I know of no better place 
for a family to spend one or two of the summer months 
than at C. A. Fenton’s, No. 4, Watson, Lewis county, N. 
Y. Owing to Fenton’s great popularity with his guests, 
he has found it necessary this year to increase his accom¬ 
modations by the addition of another house. 
Six years ago, while wandering with my guide, the noted 
John Snbftttis (now dead), in search of new ground, wltere 
we might enjoy wilder scenes and have belter angling than 
we had been in the habit of having, we stumbled upon 
Fenton’s. So impressed was I with the beauties surround¬ 
ing the place, and so pleased with its near proximity to the 
railroad—the distance to Lowville, on the Black River 
Railroad, being only fourteen miles of good and four miles 
of bail road—that 1 entertained strong hopes of inducing 
my family to accompany mo on my future trips to the wil¬ 
derness. For several years previous they had refused to 
go in consequence of the hardship (to them) of making the 
journey in and out of the woods. After much urging a 
bargain was made that we were to go, and I was to bring 
them borne in ten days if they said so; but they said no, 
but willingly stayed six weeks, and have goue every season 
siuce but one, when I went alone to explore, and we havo 
engaged accommodations for this summer also. 
There are any number of streams, ponds,-and lakes in 
the neighborhood, where speck'ed trout can be caught by 
starting from the house in the morning and returning the 
same night, hut if one prefers to stay loDger new trips can 
be enjoyed without number. A short day’s trip down the 
Beaver River will take one over a succession of rapids and 
fails to the noted Eagle Falls—a delightful trip, which can 
hardly ho excelled— while up the river for fifteen miles 
tfiere are seventeen rapids and falls, and fine fishing. 
I would atlvise any visitor to Fenton's to make this trip, 
if he go nowhere else. I have walked up and down both 
hanks, and some years since went down in a boat, making 
a trip of three days from Fenton’s. My guide, Boyd, Syl¬ 
vester Edwards, and myself walked by wagon road up tho 
river eleven miles to Stillwater (Mr. Wardwell’s), took din¬ 
ner at his house, which is the last human habitation in this 
direction for sixty-two miles by “carries” and water 
courses, look our boat, blankets, some few camp utensils 
and provisions, and moved down the river. By dusk we 
had goue over the "carry” aud down four rapids, and had 
a flue lot of speckled trout, all killed on the fly. Not 
wishing to he encumbered with anything that we could get 
along without, wo brought no tent, and having fished too 
late to peel hark ana construct a shanty by dark, we re¬ 
sorted to the very common device in the wilderness of 
sleeping under our boat. Turning the boat bottom up, one 
end was placed on slightly elevated ground, aud the oilier 
raised by a stick about seven feet; two crotched sticks 
were cut and pushed into the ground about three feet from 
the boat, and a side pole laid on top parallel with the keel, 
then a rubber blanket was laid from the keel to the ridge 
pole, making a shelter from dew about six feet wide. As 
an additional protection against wind aud rain, large 
brandies and saplings of spruce and balsam fir were cut 
aud planted against the side of our house. Gutting 
enough balsam boughs for our bed, and wood lo keep us 
warm during the night, after partaking of a delicious sup¬ 
per of trout, fried potatoes, wheat cakes, with maple sugar 
and butter, and tea, was to lie down and dream sweetly of 
the morrow. 
The second day we made but about three miles, as the 
river was generally shallow, and filled with huge rocks, 
In order to get over this part without damage to our 
boat, tho guide wiuled in the river, holding fast to tiie 
stern, while I in the bow covered every spot of water with 
my flies where a trout was supposed to lurk. Wo met with 
good success again, and landed for Ihe night at the outlet 
of Mosher’s ponds, wltere we again rested under our boat. 
The third day’s fishing was not so good, as it never is in 
this part of rite river. The rapid became more precipi¬ 
tous and heavier in consequence of being contracted in 
less space, and for some two miles we had to carry boat 
and baggage. Home was reached at ten P. M. We wore 
not over tired or hungry, hut were very happy. I might 
write for a week, giving you detail of pleasurable trips ip-, 
this section, but cannot spare time to say more atppyesent, 
W .'W. Hum. 
#4 
Fish Culture in Nova Scotia. —The Fish Commission¬ 
ers of Canada are making vigorous efforts to restock the 
rivers of Nova Scotia, and the now Hatch House at Bed¬ 
ford, neat Halifax, under charge of Mr. A. B. Wilmot, lias 
produced over 400,000 salmon, ova this season, which have 
been distributed among various rivers in the Province, 23,- 
000 and more to River Philip, Cumberland county, from 
whence the ova were originally procured, and some to Gold 
River, and some to Sackvillc River, which is now preserved 
against all fishing. We would suggest that some he sent to 
the Indian and Ingram Rivers, St. Margaret’s Bay, once the 
favorite resort of salmon, hut now somewhat depleted by 
over fishing and obstructions from dams and saw-dust. The 
Nova Scotia rivers, as soon as rehabilitated will take pre¬ 
cedence of those that empty into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, 
its they are not only already more accessible, but will be 
made more so by the new railway to run across the penin¬ 
sula from Annapolis, on the Bay of Fundy, to Lunenbury, 
on the Atlantic, which iB now being constructed. 
FISH AS A FARM CROP. 
if _,- 
S ETH GREEN likens the raising and killing of fish (o 
the raising and killing of chickens, or any other do¬ 
mestic auimal, and urges fishermen to spare the little ones. 
Tho idea is a novel one, but most sensible. There is no 
more sense in taking fingerlings tor the table than there is 
in making pot-pies of chicks a few weeks old. We copy 
Mr. Green’s letter from the Rochester papers:— 
“Rochester, May 30th, 1876. 
“Nearly every farmer raises chickens, and in the fall lie 
counts them and makes up his mind how many he can kill. 
If he is a good manager he will have a ch taken dinner 
when he feels like it the year round, and will have some 
left lo raise him another stock the next year. But if he 
kills them all as soon as they are large enough, he will go 
without chickens the balance of the year." 
“The same is the case with regard to fish, Although 
you cannot see the fish to count them as you do your 
chickens, yet ihe fact remains that there are a certain num¬ 
ber of fish in each locality, and when that family of fish is 
caught in its respective locality they are all gone. You 
can no more expect lo have fish dinners from those waters 
thereatter, than you would chicken dinners after your 
chickens were all killed. Now let me tell you how to man¬ 
age, and you will have a fish dinner whenever you please. 
Never lake any more than you want for your present use, 
and perhaps, if they bite well, take a moss for your friend, 
aud then slop fishing when you have got enough. If you 
catch a small one, take him carefully off from your hook 
and put him back in the water; don’t throw him down iu 
your boat and take him ashore for the purpose of counting 
him, and then throw him away. That little fish, if put 
back, would grow lo he a large one iu time; aud the man, 
woman, or child, that does not put that little fish hack, is 
worse thau a brute; for the brute, with few exceptions, 
will not Kill anything for fun. I want the readers of this 
letter to ask themselves whether they ever left in a boat, 
auy little fish that were too small to ccoki 1 If you have, 
never do it again. Show your manhood, too, by inform¬ 
ing other parties that you may see doing it that in the grati¬ 
fication of their pride they are wantonly destroying the 
lives of little fish. Say to them (if you do not feel too 
indignant lo pucker your mouth to say it), “Please do not 
do it again.” Ho not expostulate with them harshly, for 
kinds words will be more likely lo be remembered." 
“if parties living near the lakes that were stocked with 
salmon trout iu the years 1873 and 1873, will anchor a buoy 
in the deep water and bait with small fish twice a week 
they can go to that buoy and drop a hook bailed with a 
pieee of the same kind of fish that you have been iu rite 
habit, of scattering around it, and take a mess of fish when¬ 
ever you piease. This fish will lost the season through, 
provided you manage taking rite fish witii tile same judg¬ 
ment that you do your stock of chickens, and stop killing 
when you have got a mess.” 
“Fish are local, and there is a certain number of fish 
that live in the neighborhood of your farm, and they do 
not go further from it Ilian your chickens do from your 
barn; and there is a rule among fishermen that, is generally 
observed: If a man sets a buoy aud keeps it baited it be¬ 
longs to him, and no well-meaning man will fish near his 
neighbor’s buoy. “Beth Green." 
■--— 
CONNECTICUT RIVER SALMON—THE 
EFFORTS TO PROPAGATE THEM 
SUCCESSFUL. 
F Higganum:, Ct., June 13th, 1876. 
Editor Forest and Stkeam:— 
The gentleman I spoke about in my former letter—the 
one who thought “stocking the river with salmon a hum¬ 
bug"—wrote a few lines to that effect and inserted them 
iu the Hartford Past. The inclosed, taken from the Post, 
is in answer to him, and a good one I think, and equally 
as good to the rest of the j few old fogies we havo among us: 
"Information Asked and Given.—A n apology is due 
to the Higganum reporter, who, ou Monday last propound¬ 
ed a series of question la regard to salmon. The absence 
from the city of Robert G. Pike, Esq., Fish Commissioner, 
from whom the information was obtained, must be our 
apology for this seeming neglect. Mr. Pike having re¬ 
turnee Friday, we have obtained tiie desired informal!, 
and proceed to remark that it is Lite privilege onrileu. 
and simpletons lo ask foolish questions, ayah’so the lligga- 
num correspondent uneoascioual.yr-tuV his ignorance. He 
probably belongs to that foo-merly numerous class ‘down- it. 
river’ who rldiculed J -4jie' idea of increasing shad iu ou done 
rivers, whojmlsj^ifTim at tile Commissioners for trying J , ecomes 
quote tliftbr relined language) ‘to improve on H „ . 
Ajjuh^Tlty’s works. 1 Now that a grand success li' L 
■warded the Commissioners, and shad have mult' or wounded 
our waters beyond the most sanguine anticipate some place 
our people have all they want at reasonable pgreat mistake ia 
is 
