MY PETS. 



E. A. KEMP. 



Zip ! Splash ! " Well done, Mamma ! 

 That was a pretty rise." And Mamma, my 

 pet brook trout, settled back in her private 

 corner, and mouthed a big blue bottle 

 which she had just captured by an 8-inch 

 leap from the aquarium, where she had 

 grown to weigh a pound, from 34 that 

 she weighed a year ago. 



This aquarium is in my office window. 

 It contains 10 brook trout, a pair of rain- 

 bow trout, and, by way of contrast, a pair of 

 sun fish. 



The bottom is white sand and gravel, the 

 sides plate glass (extra thick) 30x48x30 

 inches. The water used is from city supply, 

 pumped from drive wells ; in fact, is cold 

 and clear well water. Up the corner of the 

 aquarium comes a ^-inch pipe to a T. 

 From one side of the T runs a half-inch lead 

 tube and copper nozzle. Through this a 

 fine jet of water is directed into and toward 

 the opposite corner of the aquarium. The 

 water, thus entering, forces a continual sup- 

 ply of air with it, which bubbles prettily to 

 the surface. By directing the stream di- 

 agonally toward opposite corners, the water 

 is kept moving. For shade, I have built up 

 large stones through centre of aquarium, 

 with runways, or swimways, through and 

 under. 



What more could fontanalis want but 

 food? This, in winter, is liver and min- 

 nows. I put in 40 or 50 minnows at a time, 

 and it is surprising how the trout make the 

 water boil in their mad chase for their 

 breakfast. After satisfying their hunger, 

 their nature shows up, for they kill many of 

 the minnows just for deviltry. Never will 

 they touch a dead minnow. I believe 

 they would starve rather than break this, 

 rule. In summer, common angle worms 

 fill the bill, garnished with flies and grass- 

 hoppers. So tame have these trout become 

 that they eat from the hand; leap nearly 

 a foot for a worm, or piece of liver held 

 over the water, each one eager to get it 

 first. 



Having these trout pets makes me ten- 

 der toward the whole trout family. A few 

 days ago I went to a neighboring stream, 

 and succeeded in landing a handsome 12- 

 inch trout. I could not bear to see him die 

 and fade, so tied a fine line through his 

 mouth, and to a limber willow that hung 

 over the creek, put him back into the 

 stream, and continued my fishing. I caught 

 4 more, and served them in the same man- 

 ner. Putting some grass into my creel, I 

 hurriedly gathered up my trout and put 

 them in, gave them a dip in the creek, and 

 ran for a barn, where I had left my horse. 



Here I borrowed a pail, pumped some cold 

 water, and after a time succeeded in reviving 

 my all but dead fish. I then brought them 

 safe to the office, and, as I write, they are 

 jumping and playing before me. 



What did I use the T in my water pipe 

 for? I hoped I could save and propagate 

 the eggs. I took it for granted that part of 

 my trout were male, and part female. I 

 will wager that few trout fishers can tell the 

 difference, yet it is easy to distinguish. 

 When November came, there was no ques- 

 tioning the fact that I had 2 of the crossest, 

 most warlike fish in existence. The females, 

 heavy with eggs, would lie on the gravel 

 bottom nearly all the time. The males, 

 now brilliantly red below, with back a 

 bright golden yellow — their brilliancy fad- 

 ing to a dull hue, then flaming yellow in less 

 than 2 minutes — would fly at, snap and bite 

 any other fish- that might come in sight, re- 

 turning immediately to their mates. That 

 was the time to take the eggs, which was 

 easily accomplished. I had previously 

 constructed a hatching stream out of a 

 piece of eave trough, nicely enameled. I 

 filled the trough half full of fine gravel, 

 and, by means of a bit of rubber tubing, let 

 in water from the T at one end, which 

 flowed over the gravel, and out at the other 

 end of the trough. 



After the eggs had been properly fertil- 

 ized, I scattered them on the gravel ; and 

 then came the interesting part — watching 

 the development. In 60 days they com- 

 menced to pop out : queer little fellows 

 with big black eyes, big transparent sack, 

 and little wiggling tail. Helpless little 

 things, with too large head and body to be 

 navigated by the small tail ; all they could 

 do was to lie on their sides on the gravel 

 and grow. A month later the contents of 

 the sack had been absorbed, and the fish, 

 then able to swim, began looking for food, 

 which I supplied for a few days, and then 

 planted them in my favorite stream. These 

 operations were repeated in April, when my 

 single female rainbow gave me about 1,500 

 eggs. 



It was interesting to watch the develop- 

 ment of the fish. Holding the egg to, the 

 light, one could plainly see the crescent- 

 shaped embryo, then the eyes, and later the 

 squirming if egg was kept too long from 

 the water. Hundreds of people came to 

 see them ; hundreds more, as they pass my 

 office window, stop and look at them. 

 Why shouldn't they? What could be pret- 

 tier, or more interesting? I enjoy it. It 

 is not expensive, and takes little of my 

 time. 



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