HINTS ABOUT SALMON FISHING 



43* 



show plainly their near relationship to those 

 of Leonard, Conroy, Abbey and Imbrie, and 

 other New York makers, and are a contrast 

 to the weaver's beams yet in favor on cer- 

 tain remote .Highland rivers. 



This difference in preference is partly the 

 result of the divergent national tempera- 

 ments, and is partly owing to our fishing be- 

 ing a summer sport in sheltered waters, and 

 one rarely involving long casting, as, per- 

 haps, nine out of ten pools may be fished 

 from a .canoe. ' The British angler may wet 

 a fly as early as February, and keep at the 

 game until late autumn, whereas Canadian 

 rivers — to which we must look for our sport 

 with one exception — are never in season until 

 June, and all angling must stop by mid-Au- 

 gust, after which it would be illegal. 



But when I mention June as the opening 

 month, I should add that the rivers of West- 

 ern Nova Scotia are exceptions to this rule. 

 They, alone, of all Canadian rivers, permit 

 the use of the fly in early springtime, as 

 they are free from ice two months earlier 

 than the streams flowing into the Gulf of St. 

 Lawrence. But as they are small and heavily 

 fished, they can not compete with the rivers 

 of New Brunswick, Quebec and Newfound- 

 land. 



On the rough, blustery days of a Highland 

 spring, a powerful rod and a heavy line are 

 needed ; since a light rod could not handle a 

 heavy line, and no human power could cut 

 a light one into the teeth of a squall. Then 

 the North British, and many of the Irish 

 rivers, as well, must be fished by wading, and 

 to fish the pools out long casting is often 

 imperative. Local conditions have caused the 

 salmon anglers of the British Isles to go in 

 for a rod that seems akin to a flail, if judged 

 by American standards. 



As a contrast, let me take a typical day on 

 a Canadian stream : The mist is off the water, 

 and a scorching July sun is rising behind the 

 pointed firs lining the banks. Not a breath 

 of air is stirring, not an airt ruffles the sur- 

 face of the pool, mirror-like excepting where 

 the ring of a rise shows the lay of a good 

 fish, and the splash of a kingfisher's dive, 

 where another salmon smolt has been sacri- 

 ficed to_ the needs of the chattering, unwel- 

 come yet ubiquitous rascal. The big mic- 

 mac canoe has been pushed off ; a swarthy, 

 sturdy fellow at either end, provided with an 

 unshod spruce pole ; the expectant angler re- 

 clines more or less gracefully, his back 

 against the center bar, lots of "dope" on his 

 neck, face, and hands, and pipe in mouth, for 

 the mosquito is abroad and the black fly is 

 hustling for business. Soon the pool is 

 reached, and after a cautious sneak close to 

 the shore up to its head, the canoe is turned 

 broadside to the current, and held in position 

 by the poles of the men. Ten yards below, a 

 swirl in the water shows where a big boulder 

 — one of those "erratics," besprinkled so 



abundantly over Southeastern Canada, by the 

 ice of the last glacial period — forms a shel- 

 ter behind which is a famous salmon "lie." 



No need here for powerful rods or long 

 casts. A girl could get out line enough, and, 

 once hooked, the fish may be followed, at 

 least as far as the first fall, two miles below, 

 and even a fresh run, twenty-pounder will 

 hardly give us such a chase. The man who 

 would select an eighteen-foot Greenheart for 

 this work could not understand his art, for 

 neither the strength nor the length are de- 

 manded in this case. 



Occasional rivers — exceptional ones — re- 

 quire other implements, and later on we will 

 consider some of them ; but, as a rule, the 

 successful Canadian angler relies upon skill, 

 not brute force, and accomplishes his end all 

 the more certainly by so doing. 



The typical, I almost wrote standard, 

 American salmon rod is fifteen feet long, 

 weighs about twenty-three ounces, and is 

 made of split bamboo. Such rods are pleas- 

 ant to fish with, and possess a snap and elas- 

 ticity that quickly reduce the most obstinate 

 salmon to submission. Unfortunately, they 

 are of necessity costly, and — even more un- 

 fortunate — extremely liable to injury through 

 rough handling or neglect. Hence, many vet- 

 eran anglers have gone back to solid wood 

 rods, of Greenheart, noib, Bathabara, lance- 

 wood, hickory and ash, though these rods, as 

 built in the United States, are much shorter 

 and lighter than those of British manufac- 

 ture. 



But, after all, if one does not object to their 

 cost (and salmon fishing is a rich man's 

 game), nothing can be better than the split 

 bamboo of crack workmanship, for the gen- 

 eral run of fishing from a canoe. Protect it 

 from damp when not actually in use ; treat it 

 at all times as though you loved it ; and I 

 feel assured you will never regret your pur- 

 chase ; on the understanding, of course, that 

 you went originally to a maker with a repu- 

 tation to sustain, and paid him his price. 

 No second-rate bamboo rods should be taken 

 to a salmon stream. The game is too noble 

 a one to play with shoddy tackle. 



As I have said, exceptional rivers demand 

 exceptional rods, and wherever much wading 

 has to be done, long casts made, and big 

 fish held in the pool they were hooked in, 

 "by the hair of their heads," if necessary, 

 commend to me the two-piece, single-splice, 

 greenheart rod, known as the Castleconnell. 

 This rod was evolved by Irish wit on the 

 banks of Shannon, and for my own use on 

 a wading river I ask for nothing better. 



Rods, when not in use, should be laid in 

 a trough, and in camp these are made of 

 birch, or spruce bark, and supported at short 

 intervals by forked branches stuck in the 

 ground, in some shady spot, a covering of 

 bark being placed over the rod to ward off 

 dew and rain. 



