324 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 19, 1885. 



appearance this season, is for them. The echoes come m- 

 8-werin<x back from every scnUnel hilltop ; and in fancy I see 

 the startled deer throw \ip their heads in cpiick alarm; I see 

 the waterfowl dive with lightning flash or take to wing to 

 reach the hidden recesses of some "protecting swamp; I see 

 even the sluggish bear raise himself upon his haunches to 

 peer through some opening in the woods over the waters of 

 the lake, in anxious doubt as to the meaning of this un- 

 earthly cry— and 1 curse the steamer's whistle. 



We have arrived, however, and attention is restricted for 

 the moment to our disembarking. As the dock has not as 

 yet been floated into its place from its winter anchorage. 

 Stephen puts off in his boat to take us ashore. The traps 

 aud supplies proving a boatload, Tyler shoves off to us aiso, 

 and we enter his boat after instructing Captain Sheppard to 

 call each day to deliver and take our letters and bring us fresh 

 mUk, etc. 



So here we are! Landing at the pier, we walk up the 

 green slope to the house and enter from its broad piazza im- 

 mediately into the main room of the house. Large, com- 

 fortable, and with a roaring wood lire blazing away in the 

 capacious fire-place. We began to unpack bur traps and 

 settle at once. Guns and rifles (more for play than use) are 

 put together and in their appropriate place. Trunks opened, 

 rooms selected and appropriated, rod cases aud tackle laid 

 in place for rigging somewhat later, and we feel that we are 

 "at home" aud order dinner. While dinner is preparing, 

 let us look off on to the lake and within at our household. 

 The lake lies before us, with the eastern hills beyond rearing 

 their white heads cloud high. A delightful scene. Half 

 way across the lake— some two miles wide— lies Mead Island, 

 a rugged rock, with few trees aud shrubs, and just large 

 enough to accommodate the lodge of some wealthy capital- 

 ist, who has proved the value of money in securing' this wild 

 and isolated .spot for such time at recreation as he may find. 

 We cannot see the entire five miles of the length of the lake, 

 as Bowditch's and Pine points shut out the upper end; but it 

 is a glorious lookout and captivating to the last degree. 



Stephen, the chief guide, with a quiet mien but a twinkle 

 in his eye, has endeavored to provide a "salmon" for our 

 dinner, biit our advent was so prompt he had failed. No 

 fault of his. however. He is not a man of failures, and his 

 sturdy muscles and well balanced judgment laugh at a sus- 

 picion of baldness and gray hairs which will not be denied. 



Tyler, the second guide, and who is to be my faithful 

 Achates, is a younger man, of sturdy frame and' well-knit 

 muscles which show power and capacity for endurance. 

 His restless and keen eye betokens quick observation and 

 trained faculties, aud his general appearance proclaims the 

 ready and trusty guide. He and I passed many houra to- 

 gether subsequently, and he proved himself worthy of all 

 confidence and friendship. 



******* 



Life on this lake possesses its own charm. Here I desire to 

 hang up one or two pen-pictures of life its we enjoyed it, be- 

 fore which I must say that Dick Shutts, who occupies In- 

 dian Point, a little further up the lake, is also known to 

 fame as a character aud attraction and a most worthy host 

 for all true sportsmen. He knows the country thoroughly, 

 and whether it he to still-hunt or night hunt — whether it be 

 four bears in a day or eight holes through a deer's hide to.a„ 

 single rifle shot— Dick is the m^^ an^ M apOFteffi©n-imake^ 

 2, i;ote of it-. _ ' " 



******* 



Tyler is rowing me up the eastern shore. Our gear is 

 well ordered, and the spoons play well as we troll, gliding 

 along not too fast nor yet too slowly, No strike as yet this 

 morning. Water too smooth, though the wind, now begins 

 to rutfle the surface of the water with some promise. Away 

 beyond the head of the lake, sweeping down the gorge in 

 Lookout Range, black clouds have gathered, the advance of 

 a mightier and darker host, which hangs about and beyond 

 the high hills. Over us the bright sun tempers the chilly 

 air, and bathes the lake and lower borders in rich and 

 glorious light. The contrast is most wonderful, and my 

 interest is absorbed until it occurs to me to call Tyler's atten- 

 lion to it. "Sharp squall coming aud snow" is his only 

 response, and I draw on my rubber coat and lay my rubber 

 blanket at hand. 



Other boats have put in at Thomas's or turned hack to 

 Ralph's. I wonder where Stephen and my friend ai'e, and 

 then decide to leave our lines out and keep ai work in- 

 dependent of what more timid souls may do. It grows 

 blacker, and quickly with swift approach, the blinding 

 snow and sleet has filled the upper end of the lake. A 

 sudden roar of suppressed fury fills the air, while shrieks 

 and moans come down the wind, which has now excited 

 Chateaugay herself, until she tosses and dashes her waters 

 into a sea of whitecaps. A sharp blast, charged with needle- 

 pointed sleet and hail which sting and burn like nettles, 

 demonstrates the fact that the squall has arrived. 



The wind blows as though old Boreas's cheeks would 

 burst, and a nasty sea for a small boat is the result. Blinded 

 by the sleet, chilled by the cold blast, and noticing the tre- 

 mendous effort required to simply keep our boat head on, I 

 reel in the lines and direct Tyler if possible to make Thomas's 

 point and wc will land. The .suddenness with the fury of the 

 squall is the wonder. Like a Titan, laboring and pulling at 

 his oars, Tyler proves the value of stout arms and good ash, 

 and presently we land. My friend comes running over the 

 point at the same moment, having heard from another boat 

 that we were "down the shore somewhere." They had been 

 toward the head of the lake and when the squall struck them 

 they drove before it until they landed on the other side of 

 the same point bow-on. In twenty minutes the squall was 

 a thing of the past — the sun was out in full glory, all nature 

 smiled— the waters had smoothed their "wrinkled front" 

 and a veritable steam, like thanksgiving incense from an 

 altar, slowly wreathed its ascending way heavenward. 

 #«*«*** 



Toward evening, just above Dick's and off Rocky Brook, 

 Tyler, of course, regulating our speed, and the two trusty 

 bamboos well hung. At noon of this day, just before the 

 two boats in company pulled in shore for dinner, my friend 

 landed a four and a half pounder, which brought his num- 

 ber even with mine, and exceeded me in gross weight. So, 

 now, they were down the lake and we were up. To insure 

 success Tyler had changed one of our drags, substituting a 

 minnow gang for a spoon. Not a strike as yet! The sun 

 sank lower. A fair wind gave ruflled surface to the lake. 

 The warmer weather of these days made evening's approach 

 delightful. The hour was heavenly. Swallows darting 

 here' and there, skimmed the surface of the water on equal 

 wing, or chased each other in happy flight up into the blue 

 overhead. The mud hen's cry was wafted to us from the 

 swamps of South Inlet, while the indescribable plum-pud- 



den of the solitary stake-driver answered back from the far- 

 away Owleout. The occasional flight of a pair of wild ducks 

 seemed to indicate that almost everything was moving but 

 the salmon. No strike as yet. I had filled my pipe anew, 

 and after talks with Tyler respecting a tramp of six miles 

 over to Ragged Lake, had resigned myself to lazy enjoy- 

 ment of the scene, lying well back in my comfortably rigged 

 seat. Tyler's even stroke was taking us across the inouth of 

 Rocky Brook, and as his restless eye swept the shores of the 

 lake and the water itself, he hummed the refrain of some 

 Canadian boat song with constant repetition. 



Buzz, zip-p, whirr! shrieked my reel No. 2. Like a light- 

 ning flash from a clear sky, it was startling in its unexpected 

 run. 1 darted for my rod, while Tyler's warning came 

 equally quick, "Have a care; that's a "big fish!" The line 

 sped away as though on a race, as the supple rod bent 

 beneath the pull of the strain which was all I dared put 

 upon it. Tyler dropped his oars and reeled in the other Hue 

 with nervous energy. Should the lines tangle, it might 

 mean the loss of the largest salmon struck this season. "Be 

 careful; don't hurry him. Let him fight," tempered my 

 own effort, as with a swirl and churn he darted away 

 toward the deeper water. Then following in toward the 

 boat I reeled to keep the prescribed curve on the rod. A 

 sudden slackening of the line gave me fear he had shaken 

 himself free. But the reel presently caught him, when the 

 shriek came again, and the rod shook, as with savage speed 

 he turned and darted away in his fight for life. The steady 

 strain had its effect, however, and he again turned to follow 

 the boat. 



The other crew were not in sight and we hoped to capture 

 this fellow before they should round the point. 



My wrist tired somewhat in this continual getting the line, 

 and now I had to give way again as the fish went steadily 

 and slowly down in a veritable sulk, boring deep down as 

 only the larger fish do. 



But he began to tire also, and the steady, heavy strain 

 drew him nearer the boat than he had venture'd before. A 

 whirl and a turn and a splash gave me new fright; but the 

 hook held, and he began to yield again. In came more and 

 more line, the strain was lighter, the line was quite short 

 now, and I could stop his brief rushes with ease. Once or 

 twice I had him near the boat, but he would sheer away at 

 sight of me, as though he dreaded the net and knew that 

 Tyler was ready to play his part with it. 



I led him toward the bow, and saying to Tyler, "Be 

 ready," I gave him the butt. A swift dip and recover, aud 

 the beauty was in the boat and the fight was over. 



And he was a beauty! The scales marked nine pounds as 

 he came fi-om the lake, and we had to double him up as we 

 packed him in the clean straw of our box. 



I took off my hat and wiped my brow, for it had been a 

 long and earnest fight. 



Warm day had succeeded warm day until we determined 

 to try the fly. One beautiful morning found both boats 

 gliding toward the South Inlet, with troUing rods in place, 

 whose quivering tips told of the free play of perfect spoons 

 forty or fifty yards astern. 



In each boat, however, lay the fly- rod, which was to fill 

 this ro.orning's delight, with carfuUy-selected leaders and 

 the long-discussed choice of flies duly bent in place. We 

 drew lip the late- side by side, skirting the line of suore, 

 save when we crossed the mouth of some deeper bay than we 

 cared to wind around. All along this lake Uttle fish continu- 

 ally broke with their little splash and ripple, while a gentle 

 breeze ruffled the surface of the water in a most promising 

 way. 



Though we were early, that prince of fishermen, Dr. 

 Bethune— who had been at the lake now for a few days- 

 was earlier, and as we reeled in the trolling lines while cross- 

 ing Lookout Bay we saw his erect figure and watched the 

 play of his rod as it took on the poetry of motion under the 

 inspiration of his trained hand aud wrist. 



My constant practice from the wharf in casting had en- 

 abled me to strike with some accuracy a desired spot, but 

 with no success in gentleness and delicacy; my flies de- 

 scended upon the water more like a charge of cavah-y than 

 the gentle fall of a lost fly, and I was conscious that Tyler 

 had his thoughts. 



My friend struck beauty after beauty, and, lost in admir- 

 ation at his skill and success, I hooked on to stump and brush 

 without effort, and even caught Tyler's hat, as the swish of 

 the line brought the hook dangerously near his eyes. 



Greater care and effort, and an eye single now to catching 

 one single trout, if it might be, improved my casts and gave 

 Tyler great relief. As my leader touched the water a sudden 

 swirl and rush proclaimed its seductiveness, but my "twitch" 

 was absurd, and I heard the voice, "You must strike quicker. 

 Ml-. B., if you want a fl.sh; watch the fly and strike on the 

 instant; don't twitch it back." Another careful cast; a rush, 

 a strike ; and what power had seized my rig? A rush down, 

 a fluke here away, a wild and angry struggle, and with rod 

 bending in graceful sweep from butt to tip I reeled in slowly 

 with steady strain. As another rush and dive made the reel 

 sing again, my faithful monitor cautioned me to be carelul 

 of the rod as I checked him. More line came in this tima, 

 and the steady strain was telling. He came nearer the boat, 

 and his graceful form was easily seen as he followed reluct- 

 antly the persistent pull of the rod. One or two more darts 

 and dives and he gave up and consented to be led nearer the 

 fatal net. At last, while Tvler waited. I gave him the butt, 

 the net dipped, and I had landed my first speckled trout— a 

 pound's weight. All the morning we fished, casting until 

 my wrist cried for mercy and my arm ached as seldom 

 before. 



A splendid string for my friend— a few for me— completed 

 the morning's fly-fishing, and the wind rising to quite a blow, 

 we reeled in our fly lines, laid aside the light rods, and set- 

 ting again the troUiug gear, we rowed down the lake for 



diiiiiGr. ^ ^ ^ 



******* 



I might extend the list of pictures— a tramp to Ragged 

 Lake over six miles of trail, a visit to the Big Pine, other 

 delightful experiences on the water and the story of "In 

 Camp"— but your space is too valuable. Already I have 

 trespassed, and tired you too, perhaps, but if this may inspire 

 some plodder to improve the opportunity— if one ever pre- 

 sents itself to him- to drop for a while monotonous and 

 routine work, and to study nature and delight in her gifts 

 away in the wild corners of the backwoods, this trespass and 

 weariness may be pardoned. B. 



Pennsylvaj^ia.— Scranton, Pa., Nov. 13.— As I was 

 -•oing to the Water Gap last week a gentleman from Mt. 

 Bethel got on the ti-ain at Oakland Station with a .string of 



,J8 pheasants, the result of two days' sport. He reported 



them very plenty,- W. B. L. 



CAMPING IN FLORIDA. 



WHEN, in the Forest aku Ste.e.\m of Oct, 8, 1 offered 

 to answer inquiries regarding camping .and sporting 

 facilities, I did not realize w^hat an amount of business I 

 was getting myself into. I have kept the faith so far; but. 

 like the cows that were always tumbling down the settler's 

 dug-out chimney, it is getting monotonous. To write half 

 the day and then sit up till 3 o'clock the next morning an- 

 swering the same questions over and over by the light of the 

 camp-fire, all the time conscious that I brought it on myself, 

 is something that has a touch of grim humor about it which 

 may tickle the other fellow hugely, but doesn't induce any 

 great amount of hilarity on this side of the shanty. 



Taking yesterday's mail, for example, and the questions, 

 repeated almost verbatim in letter after letter, run about like 

 the following: 



First— ' ' Where is Tarpon Springs, and how do you get there ? 

 I cannot find the place on any map, and a friend writes me 

 that the steamer — when you are lucky enough to catch one 

 —leaves you on a pile-head two miles out to sea, to be taken 

 off by a barge— if the wind be fair and the bargeman sober." 



Second— "What of the boating, shooting and fishing in 

 your location? And is it true that the river is so crooked 

 that a snake will tie himself in a knot trying to swim down 

 it, with the coon oyster bars so plenty and prominent as to 

 make it diflicult getting up and down the river, even at high 

 tide?" 



Third — "What can good board be had for by the week or 

 month, or, if 1 camp, what are the facilities' for camping 

 out? And would you advise bringing a tent? Can good 

 boats be hired at the Springs, or had I better bring a snoak- 

 box? And what sort of boat do you consider best for 

 cruising on the Gulf coast, inside the keys mainly?" 



Fourth — "I am an invalid, but not very green when it 

 comes to an outing. Can still take care of myself and am a 

 fair cook. My doctor advises a winter in Florida. With 

 your experience and from your standpoint, briefly tell me 

 just the .sort of life you would advise me to lead there, the 

 objects desired being health, as much sport with rod and 

 gun as will suffice to give exercise and keep off ennui, and 

 as close economy as is consistent with generous but plain 

 liviuff." (That inquirer talks business-like). 



Fifth— "I am an ardent lover of fishing and hunting, and 

 propose to spend a part of the coming winter in Florida. I 

 am rather disposed to try your locality, but am told that 

 many left there last winter to seek other places where the 

 fishing and hunting was better. Is tha,t so? Tell me just 

 how it is, etc." 



The above comprises the list of questions I am called on 

 to answer, sometimes a dozen times a day. And most of 

 them are already answered, either in Forest and Stream, 

 Oct. 8, or in the little book "Woodcraft," if people would 

 read carefully and remember. However, I will answer 

 briefly, and I trust, succinctly : 



First — Tarpon Springs is on the Gulf coast, in latitude 28° 

 10' north. The town is built on high, dry, oak and pine 

 land, on a large bayou of the Anclote River, three miles (by 

 the channel) from the mouth of the river. It is exception- 

 ally healthy. It is easily reached either from Tampa or 

 Ce'dar Keys by the steamer Governor Safford, which makes 

 regular trips between the two places. The new steamer 

 Mary Disston was only put on the route this week. She is 

 light draft, and was built exiiressly to run inside and trans- 

 fer passengers and freight from the Safford. Passengers are 

 now landed on the wharf within two minutes' walk of three 

 good hotels without the least bother or delay. Tou will 

 hardly find Tarpon Springs on any map. The maps are 

 older than the town, which had its hhth two years ago last 

 March. Considering its age, and that it is a semi-tropical 

 town, it makes a very respectable showing. 



Second— Boating and canoeing, by sail, oar or paddle, I 

 consider of the best. There is unlimited inside cruising for 

 hundreds of miles for light-draft boats; and those who Uke 

 salt spray and a breezy thrash to windward can get there in 

 an hour from the Springs. The channel is crooked, but is 

 well marked and buoyed, and boys of a dozen years often 

 beat out of the river in an hour with a headwind. The 

 coon are there, but a little knowledge of the river enables 

 one to avoid them at low tide, while at high tide a boat 

 glides over them. Shooting for shore birds on the flats, in- 

 side or outside the keys, is fine, the birds being numerous 

 and in great variety. Duck shooting on the river fair to 

 middling. You ca'n always kill as many as you can use. 

 Quail plenty, but the winter boarders keep them thinned 

 out near the hotels. Fishing good, both salt and fresh-water 

 fish being abundant. Fair deer and turkey hunting may be 

 had by going from five to ten miles. 



Thu-d— Good board can be had at the Tarpon House at 

 $40 to $50 per month; Tropical House, $30 to $40; Fernald 

 House, $1 per day, two in one room $6 per week. The 

 facilities for camping out are as good as I have ever seen. 

 If you prefer a tent, bring one. They are all engaged here. 

 I prefer a board shanty with lean-to roof, (see "Woodcraft"). 

 Good skiffs are kept for hire at $1 per day, $3 per week. I 

 consider the Barnegat sneakbox the very best boat buUt for 

 this coast. And if I had one I wouldn't mind making 

 it my home for the winter, keeping the little Rushton 

 in tow for exploring out-of-the-way rivers, lakes, bayous, etc. 



Fourth — For an invalid suffering from difficulties of the 

 respiratory organs, I know of no land offering belter promise 

 of a cure than this same Gulf coast. That is why 1 am here. 

 And I advise just the sort of life I am living: loafing, potter- 

 in » around camp, keeping up pleasant fires in front of the 

 open shanty, especially in damp weather; hunting, fishing, 

 canoeing, tramping about the woods, and always contriving 

 to put in'a full day on something that interests and amuses. 

 You can build a board camp for less than $10, and it will be 

 w-orth something when you are done with it; and you can 

 live in camp hke a pugnacious rooster for $3 per week with 

 help from the rod and gun. 



Fifth— An "ardent lover of fishmg and hunting" might 

 not find this country up to his notions of sport. These 

 ardent lovers have thinned out the game in Florida to some 

 extent, and it is not so promising in the way of promiscuous 

 slaughter as when HaUock wrote in the "Gazetteer. There 

 is game enough for those who know where and how to find 

 and kill it. Y''esterday morning a cracker cart passed within 

 two yards of my back-logs with venison to sell. And while 

 I have been writing this morning another comes along the 

 same path with deer and wild turkey for sale. 



"Killed 'em up the river about three mile," he says. 

 "Why don't vou come out and hunt with us as you 'lowed?" 

 he adds. "We can give you a shot any day." 



I have not been ' 'out" because it does not need. I can buy 

 a piece of juicy venison almost every day from a cracker. 

 I had venisou on a forked stick for breakfast and dinner 

 yesterday, broiled to a tm-n. with a .splendid bit of siriom 



