PUGET SOUND SALMON. 



E. L. KELLOGG. 



Of the many anglers throughout the 

 country, but few have ever enjoyed a battle 

 with that royal antagonist, the salmon. 

 Especially is this the case East of the Rocky 

 mountains, where, if one wishes to take a 

 salmon, he must pay well, both in time and 

 money, for the privilege. 



The salmon is the king of our Northern 

 fishes. From my childhood, I have been 

 familiar with him. In the ice-cold moun- 

 tain torrent, reached only after battling 

 with the current for 1,000 miles; or leaping 

 from the sparkling waters of the Pacific, his 

 silvery sides glittering in the sunlight, I 

 liave seen him. Everywhere, in brook, 

 river, or bay, and no matter of what spe- 

 cies, whether chinook. dog, jack. tyoe. 

 humpback, or silverside salmon, I have 

 found him to be the same gamy hard- 

 iighting fish, worthy of all respect in life 

 and highly to be esteemed in death. 



On the Pacific coast, where the salmon 

 may be readily taken with rod and line and 

 the sport is within easy reach, the privilege 

 is but little appreciated. In fact, so little 

 have our anglers comprehended the op- 

 portunities offered for this highest type of 

 piscatorial enjoyment, that it is hardly ever 

 mentioned. Hundreds of fishing enthusi- 

 asts come to the coast and go away again 

 without ever knowing they have missed an 

 opportunity for sport such as they probably 

 never had before. 



The reason for this apathy is the abun- 

 dance of the fish, which breeds a sort of 

 contempt for that which is so common. 

 During the " run." salmon are seen piled 

 on the docks in thousands, are brought in 

 by boat loads, car loads, ship loads, and are 

 sold on the streets so cheaply that, often 

 a fine fish may be bought for a nickel. This 

 lending itself, however unwillingly, to the 

 uses of commerce has. apparently, caused 

 the salmon to lose caste with the sports- 

 man. Yet, every one of those countless 

 thousand victims of the net, if given the op- 

 portunity, would have shown himself as 

 brave and hardy a fighter and as worthy a 

 foe as any of his famed congeners of the 

 Canadian rivers. 



Many fish, of course, are taken with hook 

 and line, but in so clumsy a manner that 

 the true value of the sport is not appreci- 

 ated. The tackle in universal use on Puget 

 sound, and, in fact, in all Pacific coast 

 waters, is the heavy hand line and big, 

 bungling salmon troll. The rig is so heavy 

 that the only thing the fisherman need fear 

 is that the fish, in his desperate struggles, 

 may tear the hook from his jaws. Even 

 with all the chances against him, the sal- 

 mon does not fall a willing victim to the 



angler, but gives him many a hard tug be- 

 fore being brought to gaff. Given a fight- 

 ing chance against proper tackle, and the 

 Puget sound salmon is a close second to his 

 Canadian brother. So far as the fish him- 

 self is concerned, I am not prepared to con- 

 cede anything. The Eastern salmon has 

 the rushing current of a swiftly (lowing 

 river to aid him in his battle for life; and 

 this same river and its wild surroundings 

 give to the sport, in the East, its main point 

 of advantage. 



For taking the salmon with a troll in salt 

 water, almost the same tackle should be 

 used as when casting a fly in a river. A 

 light, moderately stiff rod. a multiplying 

 reel filled with at least ioo yards of good 

 silk line: substituting for the leader and 

 flies, a good sized trout spoon, preferably 

 one with two spinners. 



The run of salmon in all the waters of 

 upper Puget sound usually lasts from the 

 middle of September to the middle of De- 

 cember. The favorite time of day for the 

 trollers is in the gray of the morning. My 

 experience has been that there is no partic- 

 ular gain in losing one's beauty sleep, es- 

 pecially if the tide turns in the middle of the 

 afternoon. The schools of fish run into the 

 harbor with the incoming tide, and usually 

 take a spoon well on a tiood tide in the 

 evening. 



It is the middle of October and at the 

 height of the salmon season. "We take a 

 light row-boat and start for a few hoi.;-' 

 sport. The tide still runs out a little, but is 

 almost on the turn. The waters oi the 

 sound are ruffled by a light breeze and 

 dance in the sunlight. The early autumn 

 rains have washed the smoke from the air 

 and the curtain is drawn aside from the 

 grand mountain scenery of the sound. In 

 the West the jagged outlines of the Olym- 

 pics cut sharply against the sky. their sum- 

 mits powdered with newly fallen snow. To 

 the Eastward are the wooded foothills and 

 the rocky crags of the Cascades, ending in 

 the Southeast with the towering white bulk 

 of 'Sit. Rainier. 



The tide is so near the turning point that 

 no time must be lost, so we pull steadily 

 away from the docks of the city. One rows 

 while the other sits in the stern of the boat 

 making ready the tackle. It is well to get 

 our hooks into the water, as we are likely 

 to find stragglers almost anywhere. It is 

 usual, where 2 go in a boat to take turns at 

 the oars, the one who rests taking both 

 lines. If a fish is hooked on the spoon of 

 the rower, he drops his oars and kills his 

 fish; the other taking in his line as rapidly 

 as possible that there may be no tangling 



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