9 8 



RECREA TION. 



mitted to pay out line from the begin- 

 ning of the cast, there was not the tend- 

 ency to backlash, or to throw the sinker 

 behind me, while the cast was much 

 longer. In casting to the right the rod is 

 extended to the left, the hand opposite 

 the left hip, and when the sweep is com- 

 pleted the hand is extended to the right 

 as high as the head and a little to the 

 front of a line with the shoulders. To cast 

 to the front turn to the right or left and 

 then cast. After the minnow lights in the 

 water, reel it in, drawing it through the 

 water with a jerky motion, to imitate a 

 swimming minnow. If taken by a fish let 

 him have it a few seconds before striking, 

 and then strike with a quick but light 

 twist of the rod. Keep the point of the 

 rod up, give no slack line, and play on the 

 rod until the fish is thoroughly exhausted. 



Let us return to Springwater and a day's 

 sport there. Early in October Fred and 

 I secured a supply of minnows for bait, 

 mounted our wheels, and started for the 

 fishing grounds in a steady rain. Fred car- 

 ried the bait pail, the rough road seem- 

 ing hardly wide enough for his serpen- 

 tine course, but although much water was 

 spilt, all the fish arrived in good condition 

 at the dam. We stored our wheels in the 

 sawmill and prepared for the sport. 



Putting on a 3-foot double gut leader, a 

 number 1 Sproat hook, and a lively chub, 

 hooked through the lips, I took a standing 

 position in the bow of the fiat-bottomed 

 punt. Fred seated himself on the stern 

 thwart, with the bait pail between his feet, 

 and slowly paddled me up the pond, pass- 

 ing within casting distance of the most 

 bassy spots. My method of casting the 

 minnow was similar to fly casting, only the 

 bait was allowed to touch the water on the 

 back cast. On the completion of a cast 

 the minnow was given time to sink a little 

 and then worked inward toward the boat 

 6 or 8 feet, the slack being coiled on the 

 left hand ready to be let out on the for- 

 ward cast. In that way we covered more 

 ground at each cast. By the time we were 

 fairly under way the rain was coming 

 down in big drops, churning up the surface 

 of the water into a confusion of ripples, 

 making it difficult for the fish to see. 



Slowly my friend plied his paddle, stop- 

 ping before each stump or submerged log 

 until one or 2 casts were made. Not many 

 yards from shore a V-shaped enclosure of 

 logs was nade by ^ a boom being swung 

 back to the right shore. Near it were 2 

 stumps, their tops just visible beneath the 

 surface. To the left of these obstructions 

 the water was fairly deep and sure to con- 

 tain bass. As we neared them the old 

 minnow was carefully replaced by a large, 

 lively fellow, and the line got out for a 

 long cast. Slowly the chub was lifted 

 from the water behind and then sent rap- 



idly forward, taking out all the slack line. 

 It fell a few inches from the boom, at 

 once sinking out of sight. We waited 

 anxiously for a strike in the pouring rain. 

 The autumn foliage looked glorious 

 through the sheets of faling water, and the 

 mist rose from the pond. There was a 

 nibble at the chub. I let him have it a few 

 seconds, and then gradually reeled up until 

 I felt the fish. He seemed inclined to 

 make off with the bait, so I struck with a 

 quick turn of the wrist. Fred was an old 

 hand at that business and at once paddled 

 out into deeper water. The small mouth's 

 first mad rush for his former shelter had 

 to be checked, so I turned the butt of the 

 rod toward him and pressed hard on the 

 line. The little steel rod was bent almost 

 double, and the tight line hissed through 

 the water as the fish darted off to the right. 



After several efforts he began to yield 

 to the constant strain of the bending 

 rod, and a few feet of line were re- 

 covered. Gradually his struggles became 

 fainter until, exhausted, he was brought 

 alongside and lifted into the boat. A \% 

 pound small mouth black bass is truly, 

 inch for inch, the gamiest fish that swims. 



The chub had slipped up the leader and 

 was still lively, so we gave him another 

 trial, and 2 more fish were lured to their 

 death by his taking qualities. One, under 

 a pound in weight, but not in fight, v/as 

 thrown back, to do duty next year, when a 

 larger if not a gamier fish. We seldom 

 kept a fish under one pound in weight, 

 and on this occasion threw back 4 or 5. 

 It is the only way to keep up the supply 

 in small ponds, and, after all, it is not the 

 fish we are after, but the sport. Then 

 why take home a big string and deplete the 

 supply? In this neighborhood there are 

 not half a dozen anglers who use light 

 tackle and fish in a sportsmanlike man- 

 ner; but this number is gradually increas- 

 ing, and as it does so game fish receive 

 better protection. Even some of the older 

 stock are getting ashamed to carry away 

 a small fish. 



The fourth fish was hooked near a 

 stump alongside of the boom. His efforts 

 to get the line around the stump were 

 checked too hard and the hook was torn 

 out. 



Our best capture was made on the way 

 back to the dam, in another shower of 

 rain. Not far from the dam. in the deep 

 water, leaned a small log, one end fast in 

 the mud and the other within a few inches 

 of the surface. Approaching this likely 

 spot, we renewed our bait, selecting the 

 largest lively chub in the pail, and by a 

 careful cast I landed it within a foot of the 

 log. It scarcely touched the surface when 

 there was a boil, and straightway some 20 

 feet of line went out to the shrill music 

 of the reel. There was no stopping thi3 



