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RECREA TION. 



WINTER FISHING ON LAKE WINNEBAGO. 



FKANK CROFOOT. 



Lake Winnebago, the largest lake wholly 

 in Wisconsin, is a clear, beautiful sheet of 

 water 28 miles long and 10 wide, with bluff, 

 rocky shores in some places; in others 

 wide-spreading marshes, the home of in- 

 numerable water fowl. Around its shores 

 are several bustling cities, among which are 

 Fond Du Lac, Oshkosh, Neenah and Men- 

 asha. The first of which has recently 

 sprung into prominence as a summer re- 

 sort. 



During the summer,, many excursions are 

 made by steamer to different parts of the 

 lake, one of which, that to Clifton, with its 

 picturesque rocky bluffs and beautiful scen- 

 ery, is very interesting. 



On the Western shore, half way between 

 Fond du Lac and Oshkosh, is Winnebago 

 Park, the beautiful summer home of the 

 aristocratic inhabitants of the former city. 

 There are several others along the shore, 

 one very beautiful, not far from Oshkosh. 



The lake abounds with many varieties of 

 fish, which, if properly protected, would 

 soon make it one of the finest fishing 

 grounds in the state, while the marshes 

 along the shore abound with wild fowl. 



For 2 years the state game and fish war- 

 dens and the fishermen have been waging 

 a bitter war, in consequence of the wardens' 

 attempt to enforce the new law protecting 

 the fish. This war has more than once 

 come very near resulting in bloodshed, for 

 the fishermen are very jealous of what they 

 deem their rights ; but the wardens are do- 

 ing a great deal of good in suppressing ille- 

 gal fishing, although much of it is still car- 

 ried on. 



What the wardens have done, however, 

 has caused the fish to increase at a rate that 

 augurs well for the future. Two or 3 

 years' prohibition of all fishing would place 

 the lake second to none in the amount and 

 quality of the fish in its waters. Sturgeon 

 are often caught by the fishermen, but the 

 catch is nothing to what it was in former 

 years. 



When the ice grows thick on the lake and 

 men and horses can walk over it without 

 fear, a small village of wooden shanties 

 springs up as if by magic on the lake, near 

 the mouth of the Fox river, at Oshkosh. 

 This is the home of the winter fisherman. 

 The shanties are warm and snug, but so 

 arranged that they may be easily taken 

 apart and stored away for the summer. In- 

 side there is a bench for the fisherman to 

 sit on, and a small stove to keep him warm. 



Here the solitary fisherman sits with his 

 stove beside him and fishes in comfort. The 

 shanties were formerly placed over holes in 

 the ice, but this, although very convenient 

 for the fisherman (though he ran the risk 

 of falling into the icy water) rendered it 

 \\-rv easy for him to fish with more than, one 



line, which was unlawful. So the law 

 makers, at Madison, decreed that they 

 should fish through the door, window or a 

 knot hole, anything, in fact, so long as they 

 did not have their shanty over the hole. 

 Some of the fishermen observe the law con- 

 scientiously and some of them place their 

 shanties over the hole, and when they see a 

 suspicious looking individual approaching, 

 who looks as if he might turn out to be a 

 warden, they go outside, push the entire 

 building a few feet from the hole, and go on 

 fishing through the window or door until 

 the suspicious looking person disappears 

 or proves to be harmless, when they go out 

 and push the house back over the hole 

 again. 



Before the new law was passed the fish- 

 ermen caught large quantities of fish with 

 the spear. With the shanty darkened so 

 that no ray of light could enter, the patient 

 fisherman watched over the hole in the ice, 

 till some unwary pike or pickerel, lured by 

 the tempting sight of a decoy minnow, rose 

 to the surface, when he was speared, drawn 

 out on the ice and despatched. 



But those days have passed, and the fish- 

 erman is obliged to content himself with his 

 solitary line. However, as he makes from 

 $1.50 to $2 a day, which is more than the 

 great majority of laboring men here receive, 

 I cannot see that he is hardly used after all. 



ANOTHER KIND OF CRANK. 



I read in sportsman's journals accounts 

 of fishing trips by deluded enthusiasts who 

 sign themselves " Light Tackle Advocate," 

 " Artificial Bait Crank " or some such ap- 

 pellation, trusting that the reading public 

 will tolerate it, or at the worst, pass it by as 

 a bad joke. 



Casually they mention their rod " stanch 

 and trusty," lithe as a horsewhip, their line, 

 fine as a silken cobweb, and their dazzling 

 reel humming a dirge to the forthcoming- 

 fish. 



Improvements occur in fishing tackles as 

 in all other things, but I plod along in the 

 old way. 



The " Artificial Bait Crank " may pour 

 his imagination into my ear, but I do not 

 hanker for cobweb lines and dazzling reels. 

 I do not yearn for the gorgeous silk flies 

 and casting spoons and the Nile-green rub- 

 ber bullfrogs with which he tempts the bass. 



Those who use such contrivances argue 

 that it is cruel to impale live bait on a 

 hook. Perhaps it is, but think how a trout 

 must feel when he finds he has swallowed 

 a handful of embroidery silk, tied up with 

 the internal economy of a cat. Or imagine 

 the surprise of a pike as he closes his coun- 

 tenance over a combination tin and gutta- 

 percha minnow. Think how many a gor- 

 geous rooster has been shot to make the tail 

 end of your trolling spoon, and how many 

 a tomcat has been cut down in the prime of 

 life to furnish your 9 foot leader. 



