BASS FISHING IN AUGUST. 



J. A. NEWTON. 



It was a little past the middle of Au- 

 gust, in the early '90's, when my friend, 

 Mr. Cone, arrived from the city at my 

 home in the village, on his old quest for 

 the silvery denizens of the 2 rivers, Grand 

 and Flat, at the junction of which I live. 

 As I was constantly on the ground, Mr. 

 Cone always looked to me for information 

 as to what kinds of fish were biting, the 

 best bait to use, and where to fish. I de- 

 cided that on this occasion we should fish 

 in a manner new to Mr. Cone. We were 

 to take a boat and row to the head of the 

 pond formed by a large dam on Flat riv- 

 er. There we should leave our boat and 

 walk overland half a mile to the beginning 

 of a sharp bend in the river, when we 

 were to don our wading suits and fish 

 down to the still water of the pond. I 

 knew it would be hard to wade 4 miles, 

 under the blistering August sun, but the 

 swift waters of that stream offered about 

 our only chance far success. The stream 

 is shallow and stony, with here and there 

 a streak of a few rods in extent where 

 the water may be 3 or 4 feet deep. Those 

 deep streaks are the home of the small 

 mouth black bass. 



The morning after Mr. Cone's arrival 

 we got an early start in our skiff, loaded 

 with our fishing tackle, lunch, and other 

 luggage. It was cool when we com- 

 menced our pull up the river, and the fresh 

 morning air as we rowed past the green 

 forests crowning the towering bluffs 

 caused my companion to exclaim, 



"By George ! it seems good to be here 

 once more, out of the dust and hubbub. It 

 hasn't been more than 2 hours since 

 breakfast, but I am as hungry as a bear. 

 For the last 3 weeks I haven't eaten 

 enough to keep a 5-year-old boy alive, 

 but when I struck town last night the 

 change of air made me wolfishly hungry, 

 and I had to buy a sandwich before I came 

 up to the house." 



The sun soon banished the coolness of 

 the morning, and the early warblers be- 

 came silent. The green heron an^ the sand- 

 piper left the shore for shady nooks, and 

 no living creatures were to be seen ex- 

 cepting long lines of turtles of all sizes, 

 which lay basking on logs and old flood- 

 trash. As we approached them, they rolled 

 off, one after another, with a splash, into 

 their native element. The only sound to 

 be heard was the chirping of hidden crick- 

 ets, and at intervals the droning sound of 

 the harvest fly, from his resting place in 

 some forest tree. 



The current was getting so swift that 

 we landed the boat, and continued our 

 journey on foot to the shallow, swift 

 water. There we donned our wading rigs, 

 stepped out into the riffles, and in a few 

 minutes had secured an ample supply of 

 lively minnows. Then our more serious 

 work commenced. I showed my com- 

 panion how to hook the minnows through 

 the lips, and how to cast his line for this 

 style of fishing. When our bait would get 

 down to the deep spots, there would be a 

 savage splash and then how our reels 

 would sing ! The fish were greedy and 

 took hold as if to say, "Just what I've 

 been waiting for." They ran in weight 

 from y 2 pound to 2^ pounds. All who 

 have fished bass on swift water know what 

 resistance they are capable of making 

 when they have the current to aid them. 

 I had a strong rig and I grew impatient at 

 the fight they made. I struck as if they 

 possessed cast iron mouths, and then tried 

 to snake them in headlong. This caused 

 my friend much merriment. He accused 

 me of being a pot fisherman, and of trying 

 to land the bass in the wheat field back 

 of us. I found it best not to force the fish 

 too much, however. If crowded too hard 

 in trying to bring them to the net too quick- 

 ly, bass break water several times, 

 leaping out with wide open mouth, and 

 shaking their heads like angry dogs in 

 their efforts to get rid of the hook, which 

 they often succeed in doing. 



Cone had a supply of artificial bait, 

 which he tried successively; but he finally 

 relegated the whole lot to his truck box, 

 for minnows seemed to be the bait su- 

 preme. We fished the whole length of the 

 swift water, which took us until nearly 5 

 o'clock in the afternoon. We had a trap 

 with us, floating in the water, and as fast 

 as we caught a fish we dropped him in 

 and he was in his native element again, 

 but with his liberties somewhat curtailed. 



When we reached the boat at the head 

 of the pond, we dumped our fish on the 

 bank and found we had 112. Of course, 

 such a catch is unusual, and I do not ap- 

 prove of fishing just to see how many can 

 be caught, thus depleting the waters, in a 

 short time, of all that the true sportsman 

 holds dear ; but I mention the number in 

 this instance to show that good sport may 

 be had fishing during the extreme heat of 

 midsummer, when streams are low and 

 the fish, living in slow, sluggish waters, 

 have no life to respond to the allurements 

 of the angler. 



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