130 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 12, 1885. 



than it is now, I hope. As we are about to enter the wood 

 road an oven bird greets us with his song and several Wil- 

 son's thrushes are singing all around, and a partridge startles 

 us as he rises at our sight, and the air is sweeter than ever. 



But we are at the meadow now and 1 have no time to 

 notice those red wings that are "kon-ka-re-ing" on that dead 

 alder bush, nor that robin that is siuging so near me, nor 

 that miserable hawk that is whistling his shrill call over my 

 head. I have no time now to notice these things. I must 

 get my line in and some oil on my face, for these mosquitoes 

 are beginning to be troublesome. 



Keep back from the stream, Will, and tread softly so as 

 not to shiike its loose banks. Here goes. Why, I have one 

 the first thing. A nice one, too, nine inches, grandma will 

 have one at any rate. What, no more? I will try around 

 that bend there. Ah, I have another. And here comes his 

 mate. Nice ones for this stream, eight inches each. What! 

 Did 1 see one break water there in that little pool? I know 

 what you want. You won't take bait. You want a fly, and 

 I would a great deal sooner give you one. Stop a moment. 

 Here is a coachman, and a nondescript, and a black gnat, 

 Oh, you want the coachman, do you? Well, try again. I 

 have you. But I will fall directly. This lame leg is hard 

 to manage among these bog-heads. And now 1 have, another. 

 And hero comes a little one. Go back, baby fish, and come 

 to me next year. And you are too small, too. None under 

 six inches need apply. But Will shouts, and I know he has 

 got one. He is holding it up. It is a large one, larger than 

 any of mine. But the meadow is not going to be in the 

 shade much longer, for the moment the sun gets over those 

 trees on that hfll at the lower end the fun here will cease. 

 You cannot catch trout here when the sun is shining on the 

 water, nor as for that matter, in any other place. 



But stop now, I have another, and just as I am about to 

 take him off I tumble down over a bog-head, and my trout 

 disappears. The meadow is overflowed with water near the 

 edge of the brook, so I am standing in it six inches deep, 

 and the stream that is usually four feet wide is seven or eight 

 now. But never mind, I have another fish and Will has one 

 too; he would not shout in that way had he not caught one. 

 And now I have a little one and he goes back, and as he 

 touches the water disappears in an instant. 1 wait now for 

 sume time, no more rises, no more bites, I am nearly at the 

 foot of the meadow. I have time now to look around. A 

 swamp sparrow with his dark-brown plumage is rising up 

 from the coarse grass near me, and flitting from place to 

 place, and as he alights spreads his wings and pours forth his 

 song. And there is a partridge drumming in that patch of 

 woods on the other side of the stream, and another behind 

 me near the fence we got over. And three crows away off 

 there on that old dead tree are making an awful racket, and 

 I see a red-wing watching me from that bush near the bank. 

 I suppose he has a nest there; and I hear thrushes and oven- 

 birds and a robin singing away most merrily. But what is 

 that? a bite? Try again. Ah, very fine. You are a good 

 one too. lam glad 1 came down here. 



But now I go back and try the ground over again, lhave 

 to make a circuit to avoid the bog-heads. Only one fish large 

 enough to keep rewards me. and as the sun is now shining on 

 the meadow, we determine to take to the woods. To do this 

 we are obliged to return to the road by which we came in. 

 We could not follow the stream at the lower end of the 

 meadow. It w r as too muddy and tangled with alder bushes 

 and brush. 1 called it the breeding place for trout, for a 

 little brook comes in there that no doubt kept up a slender 

 supply in this larger stream. 



But we retrace our steps a short distance, and after work- 

 ing through undergrowth and alders, at length find ourselyes 

 by the stream again. Of course everything is changed now. 

 We are in the woods, where the stream is overshadowed and 

 where the securing of a fish depends very much upon the 

 fact of whether you can get your line in and the fish out. 

 For some distance we have to poke along, occasionally get- 

 ting a trout and then losing one. But at length we come to 

 a taller growth of trees, and where the stream spreads out 

 and contracts every few rods. What a lovely place this is 

 where it issues from the alders and low growth. This 

 gravelly point, that high birch there, those hemlocks, and 

 above all, that mossy bank with the water running under it 

 and then coming out in that smooth pool. There must be 

 fish there. O, but see that snake gliding away and 1 cannot 

 kill him. I suppose he lives on the fish here when the 

 water is low. But cast carefully, or you will get your line 

 caught on the tree behind you. A rise and — ah, plague take 

 it, there is the leader fast on that branch. I work patiently 

 and soon the line is freed. Now go carefully and stand 

 further over there. This time I have him, and then another 

 larger sized. But what is this light-colored mark scraping 

 off those pretty spots on one side just below the back fin? I 

 see you have been in a snake's jaw once. May be that mis- 

 erable fellow that 1 saw crawling away. I wish I could have 

 crushed his ugly head. And yet, as 1 kill the fish before 

 putting it in my basket, something within me whispers how 

 much better are you than the snake you despise? He wanted 

 the fish to eat and you want it too. But we are not moral- 

 izing now; we have no time. There is another rise. A lit- 

 tle fellow. I have him. Put him back by all means. And 

 now another small one, and still another little one. I will 

 go on. Try in that pool in front of that log. And go care- 

 fully behind the bush on the bank. I see a wake as though 

 something under water were coming toward my hook. I 

 know what it is. Yes, and you are lauded without a net. 

 And there goes a partridge, and a bluejay is calling behind 

 me, and a squirrel chippering up side down, or as Merriam 

 describes him, sticking against that tree. 



But I am ready for another cast. No more? Go on. O, 

 there must be a good place under that rock. How can I get 

 there? 1 see. Here goes. Whew! what a rise. And there 

 is that line caught agam away up there. There is no getting 

 that down. Good-bye, leader. Snap. Never mind, I have 

 two more in my book, all dampened and ready to put on. 

 But hi! ho! I have lost my balance and am in the brook, and 

 the cold water is finding its way to my skin nearly half way 

 up my back. I hope I have not lost any fish. No. "No, 

 Will, 1 am not hurt my boy; but didn't I go over." Yes, I 

 will try there again; but it is no use to-day. It was no use. 

 And now we go down further, aud come to a little fall where 

 all the water of the stream passes between two rocks and 

 then rushes over. Now don't let the end of your rod appear- 

 over the pool, but drop in your bait, (for I am fishing with 

 bait now), so that the stream will carry it down and let it 

 float out. I have a fine fish, and I try the same tactics and 

 secure another one. Then 1 go on and get another, and Will 

 hag another. He has been fishing after me through the 

 woods so as not to scare the fish, while. I have been leaving 

 him anv desirable pools that he expresses a wish to try iu. 

 The fact of it is Will is so elated to think that there are fish 



in the stream, and that he has caught four, that he just wants 

 to see how I catch them. 



Now we are through the woods and coming out on some 

 meadow land near the bridge we crossed so early. What a 

 relief it is to get where a fellow can straighten his back and 

 not be afraid of catching his line at every cast. This meadow 

 is still somewhat in the shade, the trees standing on the oppo- 

 site side from me and the stream running quite near them. 

 Before I reach the first pool I see a fish break water. I know 

 what that means— a coachman and red hackle. They are 

 on and now a fish is on too. I take five here while Will 

 leaves me and goes down to a favorite hole of his near the 

 bridge. He shouts soon after reaching it, and I know he has 

 another fish. I am fishing meanwhile without success. And 

 I have just seen the tail of another snake as he crawled away 

 among the stones, and a sparrow has started up almost from 

 my feet, and there, in a tiny birch bush, is a little nest with 

 three speckled eggs in it. A bird sings as I come away from 

 the nest. But there, by the fence, must be the "good place" 

 that Will told me of. I will go carefully and see how I had 

 better fish in it. Yes, I see. "Stand back by the fence and 

 cast over. I do so. My, what a rise ! And I have him now. 

 No, not yet, he drops from the line just as he is over the 

 fence, and 1 have to cast myself upon him to keep him from 

 flopping into the water; and my coachman is in his mouth, 

 the gut is broken just at the shank of the hook. He is my 

 largest fish, though, eleven inches. And now another 

 coachman is on, and I have another fish, and then another 

 and another, and then two little ones that 1 had to throw 

 back. 



But the sun is beginning to shine ou the stream now, and 

 we promised to be home by 8 o'clock, and now it was half 

 past 7. And all at once I seem to recognize that my basket 

 is heavy, and 1 feel a little tired, and would not object to 

 something to eat. We will go home. 



Will was at the bridge waiting for me, and he came to the 

 basket again, and as he opened it to put in his last fish, ex- 

 claimed, "O, where did you get those? Won't grandma and 

 father be astonished? There are some trout in the stream 

 yet. aint there?" Our walk home was very pleasant. Will 

 told me all about catching his largest; how he felt a tug and 

 thought his line was caught, and then the fish came out. 



We were met at the gate by the younger members of the 

 family, all calling out, "What did you catch?" to which 

 Will replied, "O, lots of fine ones." This brought out 

 several of the farm hands, and they all looked with astonish- 

 ment in the basket. And now grandma with friend A. ap- 

 proach. "O, my," said grandma, "Why, you did get some 

 nice ones. Did you really catch them in our brook?" "Yes, 

 grandma," said Will, "and there are more there, and I know 

 how to catch them now." Friend A. and his good wife 

 were equally astonished. A. said that I was the best fisher- 

 man that had ever been at his house. Grandma told us the 

 fish must be weighed. There were thirty-two of them, and 

 their weight was eight and three-quarter pounds. Half of 

 them were dressed at once, for breakfast, and the rest put 

 in the ice box for tea. 



I soon had on dry clothes, and as we all sat down to a 

 comfortable breakfast, and grandma looked so pleased , there 

 was a double satisfaction as I thought of the morning's sport. 

 Friend A. told me that he was satisfied, now that he had a 

 trout stream on his place, and that he felt that his property 

 was more valuable than ever. My good wife seemed recon- 

 ciled too, and did not complain much of her husband's get- 

 ting up and disturbing her. Had he not succeeded in catch- 

 ing plenty of fish though, he might have caught something 

 else not so agreeable. It must suffice any that have found 

 pleasure in perusing this account, that for two days at least 

 grandma had all the trout she wanted, and every member of 

 the family also, though at no one time did we have the same 

 success that attended us on this pleasant morning. 



Stillabot. 



THE MOST KILLING FLIES. 



I WOULD like to add my mite to the fund of information 

 on flies, although my experience in trout fishing has 

 been confined to one section of the country, viz., Franklin 

 county, N. Y., and principally around Meacham Lake and 

 the outlying ponds and streams. 1 regret to say that my 

 statistics cannot be perfectly exact, as I have not kept an 

 accurate account of the flies my fish were caught with; but I 

 can say with great certainty that I have found the red ibis, 

 brown" hackle" and coachman, in the order named, the best 

 all-around flies. Many trout were taken out of Meacham 

 Lake last summar (about 800 in one July day, I remember) 

 by trolling flies, and I am sure that even on the sunniest days 

 the red ibis was generalby the favorite. Of course there are 

 exceptions, individual days when some fly like the white 

 miller or black gnat will be the favorite, and the flies we 

 ordinarily consider most alluring will be hardly noticed. 



The first day of last July stands out as a golden one in my 

 calendar, and often I "fight my battles o'er again," and won- 

 der if I shall ever have such another delightful experience. 

 Perhaps the pleasure of it all was enhanced by the tact that 

 I had just returned to my native land from a three years' 

 cruise around the world ; but I think the most phlegmatic 

 landsman would have felt his nerves tingle had he been in 

 my place. Taking an early breakfast and an early start, my 

 guide (the doughty Andrew Rogers) and myself found our- 

 selves at our fishing ground about 10:30 A. M. This was 

 down the outlet of Meacham Lake, about five miles from 

 that beautiful sheet of water, where two small cold brooks 

 contribute their quota to the main stream. Sitting in the 

 bow of our boat as we drew near to our destination, it ap 

 peared to me that my prospects were anything but flattering. 

 There was very little wind, the sky was very clear, and it 

 was very hot, the thermometer at Meacham Lake House 

 standing* at 89 degrees, a most unusual occurrence. I was 

 discouraged, and after I had made three or four casts with 

 never a rise, I was more so. Andrew commenced to bewail 

 the situation, and pointing to numerous tracks on the banks, 

 proceeded to explain to me that Paul Smith's people had got- 

 ten ahead of us. 



Having no luck I directed him to pull across the stream 

 and drop a little lower down, which he did, and then the 

 fun began. The first cast brought me in two trout, and I did 

 not lack employment for the rest of the day. To make a 

 long story short, from 11 A. M. till 4 P. M., with an hour 

 out for lunch and a smoke, I caught trout to my heart's con- 

 tent, often two at a cast. About 4 o'clock a heavy rain 

 came on. accompanied by thunder and lightning, and after 

 that, though I tried various flies, aud even descended to bait, 

 1 caught but one trout. So I was fain to knock off fishing, 

 reel up, unjoint my rod and make the best of my way to the 

 house, where I was received with much enthusiasm when it 

 was found that on such an unpromising day, not only was 



my creel filled but I had a large string besides. Not counting 

 the small fry, which I returned to their native element, I had 

 139 trout, from a pound down, all taken with flies. A most 

 satisfactory day's sport. 



What I started to say was that on this particular day, the 

 fly I generally swear by— the red ibis— was no use whatever. 

 The fish greatly preferred the black gnat, though the brown 

 hackle and coachman did some little execution. On these 

 same grounds, late in July, 1881, I remember catching a Im- 

 pound trout on a black fly, and this past summer, toward 

 the last of the same month, a Impound trout was caught by 

 Mr. R, Glover, of New York, aud a remarkable fine mess, 

 including one of If pounds, one of U pounds, and two of lj 

 pounds, was taken by that veteran angler, Mr. Daniel Mor- 

 rell, of Hartford. 



Lest some of your readers may find fault with me for being 

 so greedy, let me state that when brought to the house my 

 fish were put on ice and in two days our hungry circle had 

 disposed of them all. My advice to a beginner would be to 

 try the most popular flies first, and if they do not succeed 

 not to be discouraged, but keep on changing until every fly 

 in his book has been tried. Then, if he "has not some bait, 

 let him reel up and plod along home. I use three flies at a 

 cast, but I think two would answer about as well. I never 

 but once caught three trout at a cast, and I am quite sure it 

 is exceptional with any one, though thre-j flies offer a greater 

 variety to the fish. I have taken up too much of your valu- 

 able space, but my yarn would spin itself out. Perhaps if 

 your readers do not find this a bore I will contribute another 

 mite one of these days. Sous Boib. 



Washington, D. C. 



PROTECTING SEALS AND SEA-LIONS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Because it is apparent that many forms of animal life 

 require protection in order to save them from extermination, 

 some persons not versed in the habits of animals, and their 

 influence on other forms of life, conclude that all animal 

 life should be protected. Before the coming of civilized 

 man to this continent, the balance of life was undisturbed. 

 The fish bred in immense numbers, and the seals did their 

 pait in thinning out the mature ones to give place to the 

 growing fry. Trie imprint of the foot of Columbus on the 

 beach at San Salvador was the introduction of the disturbing 

 element that was to add to the foes of the fish one mightier 

 than all others; one who kills not only for his personal wants 

 but for the needs of others far removed from the sea. There 

 was no longer need of the services of the shark, the seal, and 

 the sea-lion, in thinning the schools of salmon, cod and 

 mackerel. 



For some years the sea-lions in San Francisco Bay have 

 been protected at the expense of the salmon to amuse sight- 

 seers, but we have fed sea-lions in confinement and know 

 that their appetites for fish are enormous. "Old Dick," the 

 largest one in captivity, who is well known to all the circus 

 men in the country, spent a year in the New York Aquarium, 

 and his allowance of one hundred herring per day merely 

 kept him in life, but did not allow him to get fat; he could 

 have consumed twice or thrice the number, and was always 

 howling for food. The young seals in the Aquarium often 

 killed live fish for sport after their appetites were appeased, 

 just as kittens play with their prey. 



Iu Maine the committee on fisheries and game have been 

 considering petitions for a repeal of the law which protects 

 seals in Casco Bay. A Maine paper says: "Judge Goddard 

 appeared in behalf of the seals and of the prosperous Port- 

 laud folks who have built villas along Falmouth foreside. 

 He explained to the committee that the seals are a great 

 attraction ; that they are hunted only by a set of semi-bar- 

 barians who make fifty cents a day trying out the oil when 

 they could earn two dollars by sawing wood; and the con- 

 stant shooting in the neighborhood of these summer estab- 

 lishments disturbs the quiet and endangers life. Major 

 Richards, of Gardiner, confirmed Judge Goddard's statement 

 as to the danger of such indiscriminate shooting. But no 

 sooner had the judge retired from the room than a member 

 of the committee, who appeared to know the capacity of a 

 hungry seal for fish, arose and in an impassioned speech de- 

 nounced the seal as a 'miserable, low-lived critter,' who 

 was harder than a caribou to shoot, and so fiendishly cun- 

 ning as to put to naught the most ingeniously contrived 

 traps. In short he was of the opinion that the seals (and 

 probably also Judge Goddard and the nabobs of Portland) 

 could lake care of themselves. The committee voted to re- 

 port a bill repealing the law which has for some years pro- 

 hibited the shooting of these animals in Casco Bay." 



It does not seem to be widely known that the harbor seal 

 does not furnish the valuable fur now so much worn. That 

 comes from the so-called fur-seal of the Pacific coast. The 

 skins of sea lions and of harbor seals have coarse stiff hair 

 and are of little value. It is true that these animals arc in- 

 telligent aud when grouped on rocks are picturesque, but 

 their great destructiveness renders them an injurious com- 

 petitor to man in the matter of food. Man can, and does, 

 keep all valuable food fish within a proper limit as to 

 numbers, and often exceeds that point, and in justice to him- 

 self should assist to exterminate such animals as sharks and 

 seals which destroy his food and of one of little value in 

 themselves. If the people of any locality wish to enjoy the 

 luxury of seeing seals dispoiting on the rocks they should 

 fence them in and feed them with such cheap fish as they 

 can afford, but not allow them to devour cod and mackerel, 

 not to speak of the salmon, which are said to have been 

 thinned by the sea-lions of San Francisco harbor. X. Y. Z. 



SOME REMARKABLE CATCHES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Fishing one day near Barnegat Inlet for striped bass with 

 light rod and a single hook with gut leader, at one cast I 

 landed two sea bass each weighing about three-quarters of a 

 pound. One was securely hooked, the other dropped from 

 the line into the boat. This story is true, but I never did 

 quite understand how the second fish was caught, 



J. H. S. 



Maine Fishing.— Bangor, Feb. 28.— Editor Forest and 

 Stream: The Legislature of Maine has been asked for an ap- 

 propriation to build a road from Shirley Mills to the forks 

 of the Kennebec. This will open a fine country for sports- 

 men, and the road will pass along the northern end of the 

 beautiful lake called Moxie Pond, which is at least ten miles 

 long and well stocked with fish. Other smaller lakes and 

 ponds will be within easy reach of this road, and angler.-. 

 will have new waters to wet their lines in if the road is 

 made, — PoKE-o'-MooNsnrNE. 



