Volume XV» 



RECREATION 



AUGUST, 1901. 

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



Number 2 



A RUBBER LANDING NET. 



DON CAMERON. 



The first fish story I heard after be- 

 coming a resident of S was the 



history of the famous trout of Rock 

 pool. It was alleged that a certain 

 wealthy citizen, long deceased, had 

 liberated a pair of rainbow trout in 

 Big creek more than 2 score years be- 

 fore. The fish were his wife's pets, 

 and had been kept in a large aqua- 

 rium until the good lady died. Then 

 they were given their liberty. 



Not since the waters of the creek 

 closed around their then scant io in- 

 ches had they been seen by human 

 eyes. Years came and passed. At 

 length it was bruited abroad that a 

 giant fish had taken possession of the 

 best pool in the creek, making the 

 overhanging rock his hiding place, 

 and the surrounding depths his hunt- 

 ing ground. From the time of his 

 first appearance not a trout had been 

 taken from the pool, though it had 

 previously swarmed with them. Alone 

 in his glory, the newcomer busied 

 himself in becoming famous and in 

 collecting barbed souvenirs of his tri- 

 umphant encounters with men who 

 thought they could fish. 



Old settlers and veteran fishermen 

 insisted that the inhabitant of the 

 pool was none other than one of the 

 pair of rainbow trout which had sur- 

 vived its mistress 4 decades. I laughed 

 at the story and scoffed at the idea 

 of a semi-octogenarian fish. Never- 

 theless I knew that the big rock was 

 the citadel of a trout which, whether 

 a rainbow or not, was certainly large 

 and gamy enough to be exceedingly 

 desirable. Many a master angler had 

 fastened the steel in that fish's jaw 



85 



only to feel his tackle part to the 

 monster's mad rush for the rock and 

 freedom. Every fisherman in the 

 region had had fun with him, but 

 in every case the wily trout seemed to 

 have had his full share of the amuse- 

 ment. In all his adventures he had 

 not shown so much as the tip of a fin 

 above water, and those who accepted 

 the rainbow theory had to confess 

 that it was through faith alone. 

 Once he snapped a Professor, the 

 pride of my book, from my leader, but 

 all I saw was the water boiling to his 

 strike. Then I vowed to ascertain 

 the species of that trout. 



From constant pursuit the fish had 

 become so shy that his whereabouts 

 was known only at intervals. Once a 

 whole season passed without any 

 manifestation on his part, and the 

 many inclined to believe him dead. 

 Old fishermen, however, shook their 

 heads and said, "He is surely in the 

 pool, or other trout would run in." I 

 was of opinion that a heavy freshet 

 had washed him far down stream, and 

 I mourned him as one not dead but 

 gone before I could catch him. 



However, one May morning found 

 me nearing Rock pool just as the sun 

 flushed the Eastern sky. The im- 

 mense moss-covered rock lay half 

 submerged on the wooded side of the 

 great, dark pool. Water-soaked logs 

 were jammed upon and around it ; 

 overhanging hemlocks lapped the 

 stream, and the current lost itself in 

 the blackness of the deep water only 

 to burst forth at the lower side with 

 renewed energy and noise. 



