QUEER BAIT" 



.ra 



theyrepresented. It reminded me of the days 

 when I used a small piece of pork rind, 

 about three-quarters of an inch wide, by 

 two inches long, cut in fork shape, and 

 skipping it over the lily pads, thus luring 

 the pickerel to the hook without trouble. 

 I never could find out what it imitated. It 

 was like bobbing a piece of red flannel on a 

 hook in front of a poor innocent frog's nose 

 till he jumped for it, but I found later that 

 any other kind of cloth and any other color 

 would answer almost as well. And speaking 

 of frogs, I had always been taught to hook 

 them through the two lips to cast for bass, 

 till this summer, when I found by hooking 

 them through the 

 thigh, well up to the 

 body, it gave them 

 a much more natural 

 swimming move- 

 ment and prolonged 

 their lives in the 

 water, and quite the 

 opposite from the 

 live minnow, which 

 I had been taught 

 to hook carefully 

 through the centre 

 of the back, under 

 the dorsal fin; I 

 now hook them 

 through the thin 

 portion of the under 

 and upper jaws ; the 

 minnow works 

 far better, lives 

 longer, and attracts 

 more fish. 



I have heard 

 many stories of 

 pickerel, and of their 



not being particular as to food, one friend 

 telling .of catching a large one with the 

 remains of a kitten in it, but I doubted 

 this. However,I can tell, on good authority, 

 of one of the early followers of Isaac 

 Walton, who fishing in a fine stream, 

 where it emptied with a grand pool 

 on the northern shore of Lake Superior, 

 and after landing four or five speckled 

 beauties weighing from four to five pounds 

 each, ran out of bait, and on opening 

 one of the fish finding a field mouse, little 

 the worse for his experience. Baiting with 



THE HOME OF THE TRITON CLUB 



defunct rodent, lie quickly added anothei 

 fine trout to his catch. 



During the. past summer I became really 

 a crank on the subject of bait. While fish- 

 ing in that most beautiful of lakes, Winne- 

 pasaukee, in Northern New Hampshire, for 

 small-mouth bass, many natives remarked 

 that there were very few fish, that the lake 

 was fished to death, etc., because they were 

 unable to catch but very few of these gamy 

 fellows; the fact was that the lake was 

 simply alive with fish, but also alive with 

 bait. The natives would venture out during 

 heavy rain storms, when the natural bait 

 was being showered into the lake from off 



the banks and 

 through the small 

 streams emptying 

 into it. Their luck 

 was poor, of course; 

 the fish were not 

 hungry and no bait 

 would tempt them. 

 I witnessed here a 

 strange sight. Where 

 I camped at Melvin 

 village, w T e had great 

 difficulty in obtain- 

 ing angleworms, on 

 account of the sandy 

 soil. Just back of 

 my little camp ran 

 a small natural 

 drain or spring 

 brook, almost dry, 

 except in rainy 

 weather. I had been 

 paying the village 

 urchins from 25 to 

 50 'cents a hundred 

 for worms, and 

 could not always obtain them, even at these 

 figures. I arose early one morning — there 

 had been a very heavy rain during the 

 night — and looking toward the brook I 

 saw a neighbor wading it and picking up 

 something at every step. On coming up 

 to him, I found the stream was literally 

 alive with worms, washed from the banks 

 above. I collected about two quarts in a 

 short time, which supplied me for the rest 

 of my vacation. 



On going to the lake I found the shore 

 for a hundred yards each side of the outlet 



