RECREATION 



Volume XVIL 



AUGUST, 1902. 

 G. 0. SHIELDS (COQUINA), Editor and Manager 



Number 2* 



AN UNEXPECTED CATCH. 



DON CAMRON. 



The day was perfect for trout ; the 

 sun just visible through the soft gray 

 clouds, a South wind blowing gently 

 and the waters of Big creek run- 

 ning black over the stones. Perfect, 

 because the trout knew that in such 

 weather they could move out from 

 their secluded hiding places into the 

 swift, darkened waters of the stream 

 without being observed, and from the 

 mossy side of a rock or a sunken log 

 they could watch with red-rimmed, 

 protruding eyes for floating dainties. 



I was carefully working my way 

 down the stream, using the finest of 

 tackle and fishing with all the skill I 

 possessed. The water was high and 

 the ground well fished, and, as usual, 

 the big fellows were more than shy. 

 Six already lay in my basket, and the 

 day was young. 



Just below where I was fishing, the 

 stream is joined by a small creek, the 

 outlet to a dainty little lake snugly 

 nestled in the hills about a mile away. 

 This lake is stocked with big mouth 

 black bass, and at certain times of the 

 year affords excellent fishing. Occa- 

 sionally some of these bass work down 

 the brook into Big creek, and many 

 a good one has been caught in the 

 big, deep hole where the streams 

 join. 



As I approached the place a certain 

 unexplainable condition of the water, 

 which can only be seen by anglers, 

 told me there was a big fish in the 

 pool, and I resolved to do my best to 

 hook him. From behind a friendly 

 willow scrub I made a cast. Twice I 

 sent the flies hissing through the air 

 across the water, to drv the feathers 



and attract a possible fish's atten- 

 tion. The third time I let them sink, 

 fluttering down close beside a large 

 patch of muddy foam. The Reuben 

 Wood tail fly scarcely touched the 

 water when a huge bass lurched half 

 out and closed 2 rows of teeth 

 around it. I was frightened, and must 

 confess I trembled like a tender- 

 foot, but instantly resolved to fight 

 to the last ditch. Instinctively I gave 

 that well known twitch of the wrist 

 and fastened the barbed steel deep into 

 his bony jaws. The next instant he 

 sprang clear of the water and fell with 

 a whack on the slackened line. Then 

 came a lunge so quick and unexpected 

 that he snapped off a foot and a half 

 from the tip of my io-ounce lance- 

 wood, instantly changing it into a re- 

 spectable bass rod. 



The piece of tip slid down the taut 

 line close to the fish's mouth, greatly 

 hindering him in his actions. Again 

 and again he jumped, the piece of steel 

 rattling against his scaly sides and 

 goading him on to greater fury. Over 

 he went, skipping and splashing over 

 the water like a flat stone. It was only 

 by luck that I slackened the line at the 

 right moment. I have hooked many 

 a big fish but I never saw one so gamy 

 as he was. From the first I realized 

 that I could never land him with such 

 light tackle and a remnant of a rod. It 

 was only a question of time when he 

 would get a fair pull. Then something 

 would part. 



Up and down he dashed, trying in 

 every imaginable way to throw his 

 weight on the line. I gave the reel 

 just brake enough to keep a steady 



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