430 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[June 25, 1885. 



rather a wiry little fellow, generally plucky and willing to 

 attack any obstacle in his way that prevents his catching a 

 fish, but don't know much about cows or bulls and the like. 

 Thinking to vary the monotony of the bass fishing he con- 

 cluded to try the trout. He climbed over a lot of brush and 

 fallen timber to the head of a small fall, and emerged into an 

 open space in the woods, in which were feeding something 

 less than a hundred wild heifers, etc, Thinking to startle 

 them and drive them from his pet stream, he let out a war 

 whoop which stampeded all but half a dozen, among them 

 an old bull, big as a house. This half dozen did not seem 

 to mind him much and kept on feeding. Thinking to put 

 them to flight as easily as the others, he walked quietly 

 forward and gently prodded his bullship with the end of his 

 rod, and let out another whoop Mr. Bull looked at him in 

 amazement for a moment, and then lowered his head and 

 .let out a bellow that, compared to our president's war 

 whoop, souuded like a calliope to a penny whistle. It didn't 

 take our small friend long to make up his mind that it 

 wasn't healthy on that stream, and dropping his rod he 

 started back for the falls at a 2.10 gait. Reaching the top 

 he shut his eyes and jumped, landing about nine feet below 

 on brush, logs, stones and brambles, which he says he never 

 felt when he struck, but gathered himself together and 

 struck out for a safe position, reaching which he looked 

 back to see if the bull was still following. His bullship, 

 however, was contented and happy, and was quietly grazing 

 at the top of the fall. Our poor friend waited several hours 

 till the bull got out of range, then executed a flank movement 

 for his rod, which he succeeded in recovering and found 

 unharmed. His catch for the day numbered some sixty odd 

 rockfish, bass and wall-eyed pike, but no trout. And it is 

 not healthy to call his attention to anything resembling a 

 bull just yet. Pigabtit. 



HARRisBrRG, Pa., June 18. 



£*» and jjfiver Jflighing. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ing Co. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS. 



CARP LAKE, MICHIGAN. — IV. 



SATURDAY morning came in with a soft mist covering 

 the water and a thin blue haze mellowing the woodland, 

 with a feeling of rain in the air, but when the sun was an 

 hour high everything took a brighter look, and a pleasant 

 day ana fair sport was anticipated, 



It was decided that I should take Bob and Kit and fish 

 and idle along down to Provemout, mail three or four letters 

 that had been hastily written to the folks at home, and wait 

 for the Mullers, who were expected there between 4 and 5 

 o'clock in the afternoon, while the others were to fish where 

 the inclination led them. With a pair of rowlocks the 

 ' "holler log" was converted into a rowboat, and with the 

 lightest oars and lighter hearts we left the camp in our dry 

 and steady old craft, ready to take issue with anything in the 

 shape of a fish, from a simple-minded goggle eye to the 

 mightiest maskalonge that claimed supremacy of the waters. 



The first half mile was devoted to trying to teach the girls 

 the knack of casting from the reel, which, I am constrained 

 to say, did not produce any very remarkable results. Kit 

 could not get the hang of the underhand swing of the rod, 

 necessary to a good and accurate cast, but, to quote Dick 

 again, "almost always invariable" brought the point of the 

 rod back and then over her head, a regular woodchopper's 

 cast, the frog: striking the water a few yards away with a 

 spat that flattened him out like a flapjack. This treatment 

 persisted in for some time undermined his health and so dis- 

 couraged him that he straightened out his hind legs and gave 

 up the unequal contest. But perhaps after all it were an 

 easier thing to be hammered flat and breathless at the hands 

 of a green girl in the art of dropping a frog lightly and 

 gently on the water, than to have the flesh stripped from his 

 bones while alive, by the savage jaws of the first hungry 

 pickerel that got his cruel eye on him. And Miss Kitty had 

 a fashion, too, of taking her thumb from the reel every few 

 casts at about exactly the wrong time, allowing the spool to 

 overrun and foul the line into a score of fantastic knots and 

 gnarls, after which performance she would placidly pass it 

 to her patient teacher, who would diligently strive with it 

 till the knotty problem was solved and the line wound on the 

 spool again in proper shape, meantime whistling to himself 

 a few bars of some soothing old air to keep from exploding 

 with pent up language at the meek and lowly look on Kit's 

 face as she watched the untangling. But she improved 

 fairly, and in a few days was able to make a very creditable 

 (woodchopper's) cast, and would occasionally get in an 

 underhanded side winder that would have done no discredit 

 to Doctor Henshall, the original discoverer, it seems, of this 

 branch of the art gentle. 



As the exertion was a little too arduous to dodge two 

 frogs and two fish hooks at the same time, only one of the 

 pupils was allowed to recite at a time. "Now Bob, stand up 

 there in the bow — the old craft is perfectly steady — and see 

 how close you can land your frog to that single bulrush 

 over there toward the shore. You can always make a better 

 cast standing than sitting, although after you have mastered 

 the knack of it, you can usually place your bait near enough 

 the desired spot while sitting." Bob's first cast was in the 

 nature of a discourager, as she forgot to take her thumb 

 from the spool of the reel at all and the frog came around 

 with a swish, barely missing my ear, took a whirl over the 

 rod and struck the water in a heap, too much bewildered to 

 blink. The next effort was better, and the third time she 

 dropped the frog within a couple of yards of the bulrush, 

 which was ten yards away and without letting the. reel over- 

 run. Bob proved an apt scholar, and before the day was 

 over could sling a frog ten or twelve yards with neatness and 

 a reasonable degree of precision. With much complacency, 

 but without showing the slightest shade of vanity at a word 

 or two of merited praise, she took her place at the head of 

 the class of two, although Miss Kit claimed that the "wood- 

 chopper cast" possessed hidden merits and advantages over 

 the "Henshall style" that Bob and I did not seem to recog- 

 nize. 



But here we had loitered along till past the first point be- 

 low camp and no fishing yet ; and the lines were run off sixty 

 or seventy feet astern and enough headway given to the holler 

 log to keep the frogs from finding the bottom. A9 a rule in 

 fishing in these Michigan lakes along the rushes and lily- 

 pads, the one having the inside nearest them is likely to get 

 the best of the fishing, and Bob was given the inside out of 

 courtesy. Kit's line trailed straight astern, while the skipper's 

 rod winged out lakeward to take any fish that might escape 



the lures of the twins. Kit had turned partly around on the 

 seat to say something to Bob over in the bow when a smart 

 tug at the line started the reel to whirling rapidly, but she 

 did not seem to understand just what was going on. "Is 

 that a fish doing that?" she asked; "why I believe it really 

 is a fish." 



' 'Fish, certain. Stand up, steady now and pay attention 

 to business; he's got about enough line, and we'll see how 

 you handle your first fish. Stop your reel now, firmly 

 with the thumb on the spool, point the rod in the direction 

 the line is running and when it tightens give the rod a smart 

 sweep to the left, and the pull will more than likely head 

 the fish out into the lake; if we were going the other way 

 the pull would be to the right, for the same reason. There, 

 strike! and you and I, Bob, will reel up out of the way and 

 watch the fun." 



The fish was struck in good style for a first attempt, and 

 with a word or two about grasping the rod in the right place 

 so the thumb of the left hand could be used for guiding the 

 line on the reel to prevent bunching, and a caution about 

 holding the point of the rod well up that the fish might not 

 get the advantage of a straight pull on line and rod at the 

 same time, Kit was left to manage the rest of her first battle 

 and "fight it out on that (fish) line if it took all summer." 



It promised to be an exciting struggle, for Kit was cool- 

 more so than might have been expected— and in dead earn- 

 est, and the flsh was a strong, vigorous one, as I could see 

 by the working of the switch of a rod; was equally in earn- 

 est, and determined to smash something and eo his' ways. A 

 sweep or two of the oars placed the canoe fifty feet from the 

 rushes and in good position to insure a fair and even fight. 

 The fish made a rush up the lake, but a hard pull brought 

 him around in a circle with the line hissiug through the 

 water till he headed for the boat. The line slackened sud- 

 denly, the rod came, back, and Kit looked around the picture 

 of despair, with, "There, he's off! What will I do now?" 



He passed close under the stern and kept on toward the 

 rushes, but by this time Kit had regained her head and 

 fought him slowly back to within a few feet of the canoe, 

 where he made repeated efforts to get to the bottom of the 

 lake by spasmodic jerks that took the tip of the rod under 

 water in spite of all her strength, for she seemed to have 

 made up her mind not to yield another inch of line if she 

 smashed the rod. It was a good fight on the part of the fish, 

 but the tough little rod soon broke his spirit, and he came 

 to the surface rolling from side to side, with his mouth wide 

 open in token of surrender. He was gently led alongside, 

 and grasping his lower jaw I lifted him into the canoe, a 

 bronze-backed, big-mouth bass of three and a half pounds, as 

 recorded by the pocket scale that evening after we got to 

 camp. (Never take your pocket scale out with you; that fish 

 was a six-pounder in Bob's and Kit's eyes all day, and if the 

 truth-telling scale had been at hand they would have been 

 deprived of at least half the day's happiness). 



Kit straightened up and sent forth a clear feminine yell 

 that started a couple of bluejays to scolding back in the 

 swamp, and exclaimed, "Chip of the old block, if I do cast 

 like a woodchopper," which was not perhaps in the nature 

 of a compliment to the "skipper of the holler log" — and Bob 

 and I are convinced to this day that she was fully two inches 

 taller than she was a half hour before. Over from the bow 

 came Bob's deliberate "Hooray for Kit," and Kit echoed it, 

 and then we all ' 'hoorayed" in chorus. 



Just how much clear, straight-grained happiness three 

 people can get out of the capture of a 8i-pound big mouth 

 bass will probably never be found out. While the "chip" 

 was nervously stringing the fish — insisted on as a branch of 

 the ait — it seems to me now that 1 made a blunder in the 

 custom Uncle Dan and I have fallen into of kissing a fine 

 bass when taken, and kissed Kit instead, but if this did 

 happen the bass perhaps never noticed the mistake. It was 

 Miss Kitty's first bass, and first fish of any kind, and she 

 felt justly elated with it, and I know I felt as proud of her 

 as she did over the achievement, hut "blood's thicker'n 

 water." The good points in the controversy were noticed 

 with a word of praise, the bad oues pointed out and con- 

 demned, and we pulled back near the rushes and began fish- 

 ing again. In the next half mile she took four more, while 

 Bob and I sat like two toad stools on a log looking on with 

 "nary a nibble" to stir the blood in our veins. Of these, one 

 was a pugnacious small-mouth of nearly 3 pounds, that tried 

 his level best to make us believe he owDed the whole lake, 

 and it took nearly fit teen minutes of vigorous argument with 

 rod and line to bring him to a realization of his error and 

 coax him to accept a vacancy on the stringer with his less 

 belligerent cousins. 



And just here, with the memory of that contest fresh in 

 mind, it may be as good a time as any for a few "amphibi- 

 ous remarks," as Dick would say, about the game qualities 

 of the large and small-mouthed black bass, based on a rod 

 and line acquaintance with them of more than thirty-five 

 years. With a few rare exceptions, my experience with the 

 large-mouthed variety dates back to only about six years 

 ago, when first fishing the Intermediate chain of lakes in 

 Northern Michigan. Out of man}' hundreds of bass taken 

 in the Wabash River while a "small boy" and youth, I don't 

 call to mind a dozen that were of the large-mouthed kind, 

 and these were called by the anglers thereabouts lake bass 

 aud Oswego bass. In fishiug the Tippecanoe River, which 

 empties into the Wabash a few miles above Lafayette, Ind., 

 for more than a dozen years every fall, and sometimes a 

 couple of weeks in the spring, I have taken not more than 

 three or four big-mouths, and have known of as many more 

 being taken by others. Two or three more in some of the 

 streams of Eastern Indiana make up the sum total of big- 

 mouths taken in running water, and it always seemed to me 

 that they lacked the vim and energy to tackle the riffles and 

 rapids of a swift-running stream, preferring the lazy exist- 

 ence to be enjoyed among the grasses and along the bulrushes 

 and lily pads fringing the shores of lakes where there was 

 uo current to fight against aud make them tired. 



Since we began fishing the North Michigan waters I have 

 become better acquainted with them, and have handled them 

 till my arm has been tired out. I am not going to say they 

 are not good, hard fighters for a while, but they seem to lose 

 heart in" the struggle after a few rushes, and it would be hard 

 to conviuce me that they are anything like the equal of the 

 small-mouth in dash, tireless vigor of action, and everything 

 that counts in the make-up of a thoroughly game fish. 



Some there are who will no doubt differ with me and say I 

 am prejudiced in favor of the small mouths, because I was 

 "raised" with them, as it were, but I am not. I write simply 

 what I believe to be the truth, after handling both day after 

 day in the very same waters, with the same kind of bait, 



with the same rod, and under like conditions ; and I write 

 too only of my own personal observance of the qualities of 

 the two varieties as fighters, and by the light of his own ex- 

 perience an angler, I take it, should be largely governed in 

 making up his beliefs. 



I am firmly convinced that the small-mouth fights harder 

 and longer, and with a clearer understanding of the point at 

 issue— to tret av/ny— than his cousin of the open counte- 

 nance, He exhibits more cunning aud strategy, and sense 

 too, in his efforts to rid himself of the hook than the other. 

 If there is a snag, root, log, boulder, or a bunch of grass, a 

 bulrush or lily stem in sight or reach, he is going to whip 

 around it and break away unless the tackle is strong enough 

 to turn him away from it, and it is not skill that holds him 

 away from a limb or root when he makes up his mind to go 

 there, but a perfectly reliable rod and line and a cool head. 



Tho big-mouth will do the same to a less extent and in a 

 more listless way, and he don't display, as far as I have 

 noticed, an equal amount of intelligence* and pertinacity in 

 doing it. As old Ben would say, "He don't git up an' hustle 

 like the' was a nest o' yeller jackets after him"— and that 

 word "hustle" about covers the ground in the matter of a 

 fish that has the right kind of fight in him. Then as to their 

 habit of leaping, Iliave observed that the small-mouth usu- 

 ally leaves the water from one to five and six times after 

 being hooked, notably in open water, where there are no ob- 

 structions around which he may foul the line; and 1 have 

 noticed, too, that they leave the water ofteuer in the fall 

 than they do in the spring before spawning is over. Some- 

 times, however, he will not show above water during the 

 whole struggle, not even in the most open water, but it is 

 not usually the case, If the locality where he is struck is 

 infested with roots, snags, etc., he is not so likely to break 

 water, but will rather seek to get among them, where he is 

 reasonably sure to take a turn around something and regain 

 liberty. 



This habit of leaping out of the water and trying to shake 

 the hook loose is another point in favor of the small-mouth, 

 for the big-mouth, as a rule, is not a. jumper, although they 

 often leave the water a foot or such a 'matter; but it is rarely 

 more than once or twice at most during active hostilities, 

 and what is more soul-stirring or calculated to make each 

 individual hair of an angler stand oh end than to sec a big 

 bass sail five feet into the air with his shining coat of mail 

 glistening in the sun and shake himself, especially if he cast 

 the hook and bait ten feet away and wave a good -by with 

 his tail fin as he disappears under' the water;' 

 [to be < ■onttxtjed.] 



VERMONT BASS. 



I^HE season opened here for black bass and dore, or pike- 

 perch, on the 15th inst. 



In the lake some large catches of these game fish are re- 

 ported, which shows the good effects of protection. In the 

 river here the catches have been small, which fact is ac- 

 counted for, as the French residents have lined the river 

 banks for the past six weeks under the pretense of fishiug 

 for suckers, and have cleaned the bass from their spawning 

 beds. So far it has been impossible to convict one of these 

 fellows, as they have banded themselves together in a body 

 for the purpose of evading the fish law. 



Our local fish warden has been almost powerless in the at- 

 tempted performance of his duties, as those of our citizens 

 who should be interested — the property holders — are per- 

 feetly indiffesent whether the law is enforced or not. At 

 Swanton, a few miles down the river, matters are even worse 

 than here, for here I have prevented illegal fishing being 

 done openly; but there, in Swanton, large numbers of bass 

 and dore have been speared and killed otherwise in open de- 

 fiance to the law. Each of these villages has its monster 

 maskinonge which has been seen in the river from time to 

 time. The one at Swanton was speared a few weeks ago, 

 but he broke away and was picked up dead about two weeks 

 afterward some eight miles from where he. was struck. The 

 fish measured four feet and eight inches in length and though 

 from the effect of his wounds was emaciated to a mere skele- 

 ton, it weighed forty-two pounds. 



Last evening the writer, with one, of Scribuer's light rods, 

 was skittering a small phantom minnow for bass at"the foot 

 of the rapids and in the presence of several spectators, when 

 he struck the Highgate monster. The fish was plainly seen 

 as he several times jumped at least six feet clean out of the 

 water. 1 he fight lasted fully fifteen minutes, and was ended 

 by the casting line, which was twisted double gut, being bit- 

 ten in two. "Regarding this fish's size I will simply say that 

 he was a monster; quite likely the father of the Swanton 

 fish. BtaS stead. 



Highgate, Vt., June 18. 



LARGE-MOUTH AND SMALL-MOUTH. 



Edito-r ForeM and Hlrcam: 



Last year I spent some time investigating the comparative 

 gaminess of the small-mouth and the big-mouth black bass 

 in the Little Red River of Arkansas, where both species ex- 

 ist in about equal numbers, the one in the swift shoaly places 

 and the other in the slack water or "holes" of that stream. 

 I started in without prejudice and came out with an impres- 

 sion favorable to the big-mouth, of which I should probably 

 have made no mention but for a kind word in his behalf 

 from the philosopher of the Bigosh in a late number of 

 Forest AKi) Stream. 



Of course there is a difference in the "manner" of the two 

 fishes. The big-mouth, for instance, in the stream to which 

 I have alluded, takes the fly much more freely than his 

 neighbor, and fights with at least equal determination after 

 taking. In using the trolling spoon in clear water, I have 

 frequently observed that the small-mouth will follow the 

 lure for a* while, and abandon the pursuit without an attempt 

 to capture. This 1 have never known the big-mouth to do. 

 He starts for it, goes straight to it, takes it, ami fights it out 

 on that line. There is nothing indirect about him— until he 

 is hooked. Then he will cut the line on rocks, wind it about 

 snags, tangle it among weeds, and do very many highly 

 reprehensible things, In this regard he is no worse, how - 

 ever, if he be so bad, as his sly neighbor the small-mouth. 

 The small-mouth, in this delectable stream, presents great 

 variety of coloring, from very nearly that of the big-mouth 

 to a dense inky black, even the inside of the mouth being 

 black. The coloring of the big-mouth is perfectly uniform, 

 dark olive green above, lighter below, with well defined 

 black stripe on each side from gill cover to tail. 



On one occasion I took when trolling from a boat, a speci- 

 men in coloring and markings exactly like the big-mouth, and 

 in shape like the small-mouth. The grand test, the mouth 

 itself, was non-committal, being too large for the one and 

 too small for the other. The size of scales was suitable 



