WITH THE LEAPING OUANANICHE. 



J. L. MOTT, 3D. 



A finer, more gamy fish than the ouanan- 

 iche does not exist. All hail to him and 

 to his fighting courage. Last summer I 

 spent nearly 3 months on Grand lake, in 

 Maine, and during that time my wife and I 

 enjoyed many days' sport on the stream. 

 One day especially comes back to me and 

 brings delightful memories. 



It was the 29th of August. We had 

 come down with our guides from up the 

 lake to try the fly on the stream. My wife 

 and her guide went about half way down 

 to the falls, while Joe and I started in by 

 the old tannery. It was an ideal day ; not 

 too bright, yet not absolutely dark, so I 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY LAURE 



RATIONAL TOGS FOR A WOMAN ANGLER, 



put on a single dusty miller and cast into 

 the pool. A swirl, a gleam of a bright 

 something in the water and the reel com- 

 menced its merry little song. Up and 

 down, backward and forward, in and out 

 of water rushed my prize. Oh ye who are 

 lovers of the fly, of the waters, of the 

 woods ! What grander feeling is there 

 than when the rod bends hard, the vibra- 

 tions of the fish reach your very heart and 

 you think him a 5-pounder sure ! 



Sixteen minutes brought the beauty to 

 the net, and he weighed 4% pounds. 

 Three more of the same rewarded my best 

 efforts on that pool, and we dropped down 

 to where my wife was having a glorious 

 battle with 2 fish. 



For fishing any kind of salmon I use only 

 one fly. Possibly it may be that having 

 become used to doing so on the Resti- 

 gouche I can not change ; but the fact re- 

 mains. I am not really happy unless but 

 one fly graces the leader. My wife, hpw- 



173 



ever, prefers 2. I fear it is because she 

 can get 2 at once. That time she suc- 

 ceeded. 



With the angler's usual freedom I 

 offered all sorts of advice and coaching, all 

 of which were rejected with scorn; and, 

 indeed, I never saw prettier handling of 

 fish. They gave up the ghost in 12 min- 

 utes. One weighed 3^ pounds and the 

 other 2^4. 



From there we went on down to the 

 head of the falls, and leaving our canoes 

 proceeded on foot across the ledges to the 

 Rocky pool. A magnificent bit of water it 

 is, too. The fall into it is about 4 feet, and 

 the depth is 12 or 14 feet, mak- 

 ing it an ideal place for fish to 

 lie. Madam cast close under 

 the falling water. Heavens, 

 what was that ! The cavern- 

 ous mouth, large head and 

 heavy shoulders of a sea salmon 

 rolled lazily out of the foam, 

 and missed the fly. Patiently and 

 for hours we cast and cast and 

 cast again, with every sort of a 

 permissible lure, but all in vain. 

 Our hearts were nearly broken 

 and we did not feel entirely our- 

 selves again until the incident 

 was forgotten in the excitement 

 caused by the fierceness and 

 rapidity with which the fish 

 were rising all along the pool. 

 It was a continuous splash; 

 whirr-r-r-r-r all the time. 



As we tired the fish out the 

 boys carefully netted and weighed them in 

 the net, the weight of the latter being sub- 

 tracted ; after which the fish were gently 

 slipped back, unharmed but tired, into their 

 native element. 



So it was all day, until our arms ached 

 and our reel fingers were so tired we could 

 scarcely move them. The summing up of 

 the day showed these results : 48 salmon, 

 averaging 3^ pounds apiece. Four of 

 them we kept for eating purposes; 44 

 are still waiting for someone's fly. 



Of course we carried a camera, as every' 

 fishing or hunting party should. We got 

 some fine pictures, best and most valued of 

 which was of a timid doe that came out 

 of the woods and tarried just a moment in 

 the open while we were resting. I made 

 a telling shot and it is a great satisfaction 

 to know it did not hurt her. She still lives 

 and I -hope some other camera hunter may 

 get as easy a shot of her as I got. 

 Joe and Charlie Sprague were our 



