XX 



RECREATION. 



PUGET SOUND FISH AND FISH- 

 ERIES. 

 J. C. Nattrass. 



I was standing on the wharf of Belling- 

 ham bay one afternoon recently, watching 

 the various forms of fishing and noting the 

 varieties of fish being taken, when these 

 questions occurred to me : 



Here at my feet lies a body of water 

 teeming with life that should furnish food to 

 thousands of human beings. Why is it that 

 the fishes of Puget sound and its tributaries 

 do not furnish a livelihood for thousands of 

 people ? True, the present fish industries 

 do support a great number of families, but 

 not a tenth part of what they should. 



The fisheries of Norway, Newfoundland, 

 Nova Scotia, and other similar places, feed 

 and clothe vast numbers of people, and 

 sustain the commercial life of hundreds of 

 cities and villages ; while here the majority 

 of the men who fish simply seek to provide 

 food for their own tables, while a few oth- 

 ers indulge in it merely for the sport. A few 

 sell fish to their neighbors or at the local 

 markets ; a few boxes of fresh fish are 

 shipped away, and a few canneries are in 

 operation. The shipments from here to dis- 

 tant points realize a neat sum in the aggre- 

 gate, but nothing of what they should. The 

 industry is in its infancy ; it is* almost unde- 

 veloped. The markets are poor. Fisher- 

 men find it almost impossible to dispose of 

 their fish at the canneries or elsewhere. 

 The canneries are not run on systematic 

 methods to pay a profit on the investment. 



The six Italians in the two boats anchored 

 a few yards from the wharf have just taken 

 a ton of mixed smelt and herring from their 

 seine at a single haul. Their catch averages 

 usually over half a ton to the cast. Surely 

 they have a soft snap, and are doing a land- 

 office business. Well, hardly ! That one 

 haul may have Overstocked the market at a 

 cent and a half a pound. An hour's work 

 may result in a ton of fish, but a week's 

 work is often required to sell them. 



I look down at the water and observe 

 that it glistens and sparkles with countless 

 thousands of smelt and herring that fill 

 it with a silvery sheen. 



At my elbow, and ranged upon each side 

 of me, are a dozen men and boys with fish- 

 poles and lines, and instead of a hook and 

 bait a wire contrivance, of triangular form, 

 fastened at intervals with fish-hooks ; these 

 they drop down into the water, and drag up 

 through the little fish-schools, and snag the 

 hooks into one or more fish. This is repeated 

 until a mess is obtained. 



Crossing over to a slip I approach two 

 large rafts which contain several fishermen. 

 Here is a man with a heavy sinker, 

 fishing on the bottom of the slip with 

 a long line and herring for bait, fishing for 

 crabs ; he pulls up one at intervals of every 

 10 or 20 minutes. The crabs are large and 

 heavy, equal to lobsters. 



Here is a longshoreman, at the crab-catch- 



er's elbow,with a short hand-line of about six 

 feet in length, using the same bait, who 

 catches nothing but tomcods in the mid- 

 depths. He is catching them at the rate of 

 a bushel an hour. 



Scattered about the docks are a dozen or 

 more men and boys, some fishing with drag- 

 hooks for smelt and herring, others with 

 bait catching crabs, tomcods, flounders, 

 soles, gars and bullheads, indifferently. 



The docks and boats in and about the slip 

 are littered with decaying fish of all kinds 

 which are indigenous to these waters, and 

 thousands of pounds of herring are rotting 

 in idle boats. 



Up the beach at some distance a number 

 of stooping forms in dingy, faded shawls are 

 digging out clams from the tide flats. These 

 are the everpresent and happy klootchmen 

 (Siwash women). 



The Revenue cutter U. S. Grant, coming 

 into the dock for water at this time, drove 

 the Italians a little distance away out of 

 reach of the wash from the trim craft, where 

 they resumed operations. The bell of the 

 customs boat rang ( I don't know how many 

 bells the marine calls it) half-past three, and 

 the writer moved off, but stopped suddenly 

 to listen to the weird, sepulchral whistle of 

 the Monterey, at anchor half a mile out. 



This is early February. The salmon are 

 now passing up the river and being caught 

 by the wagon load almost entirely for local 

 use. Tons are used for manure by the farm- 

 ers, and greater amounts rot on the banks. 



The fresh-water rivers, streams and creeks 

 are crowded with salmon on their way to 

 spawning grounds every fall, when they are 

 destroyed by the ton. Many of these streams 

 are filled with obstructions, crossed com- 

 pletely by dams without fish ladders, as also 

 by fish-traps which prevent the passage of 

 a single fish further up-stream. No protec- 

 tion is being afforded these noble fish; no aid 

 rendered them in their passage to spawning 

 grounds ; every hand is against them. The 

 end is not far off, although their numbers 

 are apparently as large as ever. 



Trout suffer even worse than the salmon. 

 Some of the formerly best of resorts for good 

 catches are almost depleted. Improvident 

 man is, as usual, recklessly destroying what 

 a wise Creator has provided for his use. He 

 cares nothing for the future. 



Some one of the many fine and suitable 

 lakes of Whatcom county,which are now re- 

 sorted to by way of the creeks, by the sal- 

 mon, for spawning beds, should be appropri- 

 ated by the authorities as fish hatcheries. If 

 the sportsmen or others interested would 

 take proper steps to reach the Fish Commis- 

 sioners and have the necessary work done, 

 the first step would be taken in the right di- 

 rection. Such work and expenditure would 

 mean much to the country. 



Laws for protection of fish must be more 

 rigidly enforced, and officials who have it in 

 their power to punish violators must attend 

 strictly to their business. 



[continued on page xxiw] 



