308 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 18, 1886. 



companions. I made a visit across the Albemarle Sound to 

 East Lake for the purpose of deer hunting, with Bill Bass- 

 night, the great hear hunter. We bagged only two deer, hut 

 had lots of fun fisbing, campins: nut, etc. It was then too 

 early for bear shooting, so we didn't see Bill in his favorite 

 rtile. One of our party gave him two fine hounds and I gave 

 him a pup, and in a letter from him some time in December 

 be says be has killed twelve deer and fourteen bears with 

 them* already, and begs us to come again. Which pleasure 

 we will probably avail ourselves of -the coming summer. 

 During the months of October and November we had some 

 good bear hunting near this Dlace, and killed teu very fine 

 specimens of our common hog bear. 



But the outing over which I lost most sleep, thinking and 

 planning, was a trip to Currituck Sound for the double pur- 

 pose of shooting ereesp. ducks and swan, and going over to 

 the banks near Kitty Hawk on a deer hunt. Two congenial 

 spirits from Washington, D. C , met me at the hospitable 

 residence of Mr. A. J. Forbes on the evening of Dec. 8, and 

 before retiring that night our plans were laid for the mor- 

 row's sport. I had taken my favorites, Monroe and Crowder, 

 along, and it was agreed that, as the wind was quite high 

 and ducks scarce and wild, we would get a boat and join 

 forces with Captain Barrett, of Powell's Point, and go 

 across to Mrs. Gallop's nn a two-days' deer hunt, not forget- 

 ting to take along old Uncle Jim, an old colored man, who 

 knew every foot of the ground over which we were to hunt, 

 and where lay, to quote Wimsalt, the "big buck of Curri- 

 tuck." 



The next morning opened dark and lowering, with a threat- 

 ening looking cloud rising and flying from the southwest, 

 and occasional mutterings of thunder. However, our plans 

 had been laid and we set out, made a run of about sis miles 

 to a landing, where we met Capt. Barrett and son, with 

 Uncle Jim and two bounds. We bad now quite a parly— 

 Capt. Gregg and Mr. Wimsatt, of Washington, Capt. Barrett 

 and Sam, Uncle Jim, myself, and four hounds all packed 

 away in a Currituck canoe. After a short parley over the 

 weather prospect, the wind blowing strong from the south- 

 east, having veered, we boarded our frail craft and with 

 Capt. Barrett at the helm sailed for the banks, the weather 

 growing worse all the while. Pretty soon a dense fog set in 

 and the-wind blew great guns. After a run of about an 

 hour the Captain sighted the mouth of the creek in which 

 we were to anchor, and attempted to make it, but to our 

 utter discomfiture we found that our centerboard had in 

 some manner been carried away, and we could do nothing 

 at all with the craft. The weather grew worse all the while, 

 a terrible thunder storm coming on us, and the rain pouring 

 down by bucketsful. After vainly trying to make the creek 

 and nearly capsizing, sails were lowered , the anchor cast, 

 and we resigned ourselves to our fate and the storms. Phew ! 

 how it did rain, and how the wind did blow! We were 

 wet through. Oilcloths, sails, etc., seemed to be no protec- 

 tion, and finally Wimsatt and Capt. Gregg said they could 

 stand it no longer, and would make a break for the shore; 

 so taking the Captain's small boat, which he brought with 

 him from Washington, they struck out, and after hard pull- 

 ing and terrible effort they struck shoal water, and leaping 

 out waded ashore, pulling the boat after them. They im- 

 mediately struck for Mrs. Gallop's house, about a half mile 

 away, where they soon changed clothing, Mrs. G. providing 

 for them from her son's wardrobe, and dried and warmed 

 themselves before a roaring fire. 



In the meantime what of us who were left? Por four long 

 cold hours we sat and shivered, the dogs whining around 

 us, with no protection from the raging storm. In vain we 

 tried to be merry ; the wind took away our breath as we 

 tried to laugh, i tried the lunch basket, but the rain soaked 

 the grub and it didn't taste good. Monroe crawled up in my 

 lap as I sat crouched down against the mast, and Crowder 

 tried to get in also, but failing sat down beside me, and we 

 contributed to each other's warmth. After hours of weary 

 waiting the storm abated somewhat, and two small boats 

 came off for us, and we finally left the boat anchored and 

 made for the shore, soon reaching the house where the Cap- 

 tain and Mr. W. had warmed up, and recovered their wonted 

 spirits and flow of good humor. My! but didn't that fire 

 feel good, and didn't the hot coffee cheer us up? Ask those 

 who'have been through like experience. The dogs were tied 

 up and fed, and we ensconced ourselves around the open 

 fire place and made ourselves comfortable until a late hour, 

 then retired and sank to sleep, such sleep as is known only 

 to tired hunters and weary seamen, the soft downy feather 

 beds adding everything needed to induce the deepest forget- 

 fulness. On arising the next morning the clouds still hung 

 heavy and looked threatening; but after a hearty breakfast 

 we untied the dogs, and taking boats went up the creek 

 some distance, ran the boat ashore and proceeded to our 

 stands, which were to be pointed out to us by Capt. Barrett, 

 Uncle Jim having gone ashore some distance below with 

 dogs. Soon we were on our way, and the Captain had 

 placed us where he thought we "would do most good." 



We have hardly got settled down before we hear Monroe's 

 bugle note, followed by the deeper notes of Crowder and 

 the others and they are coming toward us, but the wind is 

 blowing directly to them and before the deer gets to us he 

 gets the wind and strikes across, running near enough for 

 Captain Gregg to see, but not to shoot him. Passing between 

 the Captain and me he strikes south for a halt mile or more 

 and then turns back and runs past Wimsatt, just out of 

 range, but in sight, and makes a straight run for Uncle Jim 

 who is following on toward us. Pretty soon we hear a roar, 

 but the dogs keep on and we know that Uncle Jim's old 

 cannon has failed to do its work. The dogs have now gone 

 out of hearing and as the old darky comes up he is greeted 

 with the question, "What did you fire at?" "De biggest buck 

 in dis woods, sab, but I didn't tech him; doan know what 

 the matter was, but he wa'n't over twenty yards away; 

 guess 1'se too shore on him!" Thus our big buck had es- 

 caped — Wimsatt had never shot a deer and was all aglow, as 

 this was his first sight of J a live wild deer in his native for- 

 est. To make a long story short, we started and ran no less 

 than six deer that day and got neither hide nor hair of one, 

 as we did not follow them to the water where they all took 

 refuge. The rain coming down harder and harder we finally 

 left disgusted and took boat for the house. 



The next day was but a repetition of the first. Never saw 

 so many deer in one piece of woods, but got none at all. 

 On this last day we concluded to quit about noon, and had 

 started out blowing our horns for the returu of the dogs that 

 had gone off after deer, when chancing to look over his 

 shoulder Wimsatt saw a fine deer standing on top of a high 

 knoll about fifty yards away, and turning quickly he fired. 

 But the deer was too quick for him, and be didn't see her 

 again. He called to me, then on the edge of a swamp, to 

 "look out," but I could see nothing of her until she sprang 



in the bushes, when I sent a .38 bullet after her, but guess it 

 was a clean miss as I saw no blood sigus. We were now 

 thoroughly disgusted and concluded to return to Porbes's 

 and have some duck shooting; so returning to the house we 

 found dinner awaiting us, and while the others prepared to 

 pack up, eat dinner and get the boat ready, I struck for the 

 sound, a quarter of a mile away, to try my hand on a swan 

 with my .38 rifle. I soon reached the fringe of bushes grow- 

 ing near the water, and peering through saw several fine 

 swans floating lazily on the water and cackling to each 

 other. Raising my rifle hastily I overshot my mark, and the 

 swans immediately took wing, but having a repeater I kept 

 firing until I cut out two fine ones, the last one being fully a 

 half mile out when shot — accidental shot, perhaps. A 

 couple of boys rowed out and got my swan, and I returned 

 to the house feeling that I wasn't "skunked" after all. After 

 dinner we set sail, bade our hostess adieu, and returned to 

 Mr. Forbes that night. Mr. Wimsatt was completely dis- 

 gusted by this time,_ so took steamer for home that night. 

 Capt. Gregg and I remained, thinking to try our hand on 

 geese the following day, as Mr. Forbes had some excellent 

 trained decoys; but "man proposes," etc. The following 

 day was so inclement that the professional shooters could 

 not go out, and thus our shooting was not to be thought of. 

 The next day was Sunday, and we sat indoors and listened 

 to the patter, patter of the rain until 12 o'clock at night, 

 when we took the steamer for home, Capt. Gregg leaving me 

 at Elizabeth City, where he took the northern bound train. 

 We have planned for another excursion next fall and hope 

 to do better. "Wells" had my fullest sympathy in his article 

 on "A Wild Goose Chase." I "had been thar." A. F. R. 



Belvidere, N. C, April 20. 



How To Load.— New York, May 6 —In reply to "C. C. 

 G.'s" inquiry in your issue of to-day, I would say decidedly 

 that in most guns he will get better pattern, penetration, and 

 less recoil from two pink-edge wads on powder than from 

 one three-eighths felt wad. This applies to black powders. 

 The reverse is the case with wood powder, provided there is 

 a hard card wad first put in on the powder. This should be 

 done in any case to prevent grease coming in contact with 

 the powder. — Bedford. 



Long Island Quail.— Quail have wintered well in the 

 neigborhood of Southampton, Suffolk county, L. I., and 

 those in charge of preserves were only obliged to feed twice 

 during the winter. 



m mid H^ivtt fishing. 



HOW TO CAST A FLY. 



Dear Uncle: 



Are you coming up here this summer to fish, because if 

 you are not I wish you would tell me how to throw them 

 flies with which you caught the big trout on the Little Dia- 

 mond. You promised to show me when you came again, 

 but mamma says you are going to Paris this summer and/will 

 not come here. So if you will only write me all about it I 

 will try and learn myself. Your affectionate nephew, 



Waltek. 



Colebbook, N. H., March 1, 1885. 



My Dear Walter: 



I am delighted to note that the angling spirit still holds a 

 place in your heart, for there is no recreation that will afford 

 you more innocent pleasure. It will fill your cheeks with 

 nature's signboard of health, make a good man of you and 

 bring you nearer to your Creator. Obey your mamma, Wal- 

 ter, and go a-fishing and your manhood will be healthy, 

 happy and honorable. With the instinct of an angler in 

 your bosom you have only to turn about to gratify your de- 

 sire. A few miles eastward from your home nestle the beau- 

 tiful Rangeley Lakes, from whose waters the largest brook 

 trout kno wn have been taken. Rising in the Notch and tum- 

 bling over a hundred cascades until it broadens into a charm- 

 ing little river that passes at your very door, you have the 

 Mohawk of the north. It is a glorious stream from which 

 vast numbers of trout have been lured. This river shall be 

 your school room iu which to learn fly-casting, and the box 

 I send you to-day contains your implements of warfare. On 

 opening it you will find a bamboo rod ten feet long, weigh- 

 ing nearly seven ounces, a No. 1 click and drag reel, a line 

 orsilk, made waterproof by enamelling, leaders and a vari- 

 ety of flies. Each is the best of its kind, and with ordinary 

 care will serve you many years. Take good care of them, 

 my lad, for they are worthy of your every attention and affec- 

 tion. 



When the weather is pleasant and there is no wind, walk 

 up the Notch road to Welltnan's farm, where the bridge 

 crosses the Mohawk. A short distance above the bridge, in 

 the center of the river, there is a broad rock with a flat sur- 

 face. Wade out to it and rig your tackle, Of course your 

 leader has been soaked in water over night and straightens 

 at once. Loop a fly on the end, which we will call the "tail'* 

 fly, and fasten another fly to the leader two feet from the 

 "tail" fly. This we will call the "dropper." Reel out fifteen 

 feet of line and let the swift current float it down stream. 

 When its full length has gone down, raise the tip of your 

 rod slowly until the "dropper" just clears the water. There, 

 the whole secret of fly-casting lies in casting your flies so 

 they alight on the water in this position, and but little more 

 line will ever be required to do effective work. You have 

 doubtless read of casting flies eighty or ninety feet, but these 

 long casts are merelv for display, and are never used in fish- 

 ing. If a fish rose at a fly at this distance he would rarely 

 be~heoked, and if he were hooked it would be purely an ac- 

 cident, while if the fish was saved it would be a still more 

 remarkable accident. 



While the flies are downstream give your rod a lively in- 

 clination backward until the tip is above and a trifle back of 

 you head. This will throw the line straight back, and when 

 it lies out straight in the air behind you, send your rod for- 

 ward and the flies will shoot straight ahead. Let them fall 

 on the water, raising your tip to guide them and draw them 

 toward you. Do not let your line touch the water when the 

 flies fall in the forward cast, if you can avoid it, and never, 

 under any circumstances, in the backward cast. Keep your 

 flies in the air behind you and on the water in front of you, 

 and when you are drawing them toward you do not let the 

 tip of your rod come nearer than an angle of 45 degrees 

 before retrieving and making another cast. If the tip of 

 the rod is over your head and your flies are on the water, you 

 would, in ease a fish rose, either miss your fish or, if hooked. 



you might break the rod. Besides, you cannot retrieve your 

 line to make the next cast while the tip of the rod is above 

 your head. I could write a large volume on this subject, for 

 there are many pretty points in fly-casting; but I will simply 

 advise you to practice daily for a month, watching and cor- 

 recting your errors, and then ask Lawyer S. to go out with 

 you and see how you can cast a fly. He will readily do so, 

 for he is an expert and rejoices at the very sight of a rod. 

 and he will advise and coach you far better in ten minutes' 

 actual work than I could in a dozen long letters. 



When you have learned to cast flies with some little skill, 

 go over to the Diamonds, get one of Heath's boats, anchor in 

 a good place, and try to catch a trout. You will find that 

 casting flies and catching trout are not precisely one and the 

 same thing. 1 feel rather sure that some splendid fly-casters 

 whom I have seen would make very tender fishermen. You 

 will read in books that the instant you see a rise, "strike." 

 Don't do it, at least not yet. For the present, when you get 

 arise, wait until you feel your fish, then a light "strike" 

 will fasten him or her, as the case may be, securely. You 

 are but a beginner and your enthusiasm will very likely 

 cause you to forget the delicate nature of your apparatus. 

 If you "strike" hard you are likely to break your rod, or if 

 the fish is small you are liable to send him sailing through 

 the air over into the next county. Therefore "strike" just 

 hard enough to fasten your fish and play him in the water 

 until he turns over exhausted. If he pulls too hard, of 

 course, you will give him line, but make him earn every 

 inch. When he seems very weary you can reel him in, but 

 look out for his last break, for every fish, no matter how 

 tired he may seem, will make a final vicious rush for liberty 

 when it is brought near the landing net, and his capers in 

 this last frantic struggle are dangerous and often end in his 

 escape. 



You have doubtless read of the beautiful and perfect arch 

 formed by your rod while playing a trout in the water. If 

 you desire to make these arches a study fasten your tail fly 

 to a gate post and pull ; but if you are fishing don't let the 

 beautiful arch worry you. As long as a fish is hooked and 

 pulls, you will necessarily hold your rod up and play the 

 fish on the rod, and the bend in the rod will remain as long 

 as the fish remains. When the fish escapes, your rod, 

 especially the one I have sent you, will straighten at once. 

 In such a predicament, that is to say, after you have hooked 

 and had lots of fun with a good fish, if he should escape all 

 you need do is to exclaim, "There now !" and continue cast- 

 ing and wait for the next victim. Do not get angry, at least 

 do not display anger. You will be tempted to exclaim 

 "Hang it all!" and "Blame it!" and "Jiminy Pelts!" but 

 don't do it. Swallow your bubbling sentiments cheerfully, 

 if possible, but somehow under any circumstances. Pretty 

 soon you will become familiar with the loss of a fish, it will 

 become easier, and you will be master of the angler's great- 

 est virtue, patience. This, with practice, will soon make an 

 accomplished fly-caster, and then, when you start on a day's 

 outing on a stream, discard your worms, minnows, grubs, 

 grasshoppers, bugs and all the other nasty things, and take 

 only a few pretty and artistic flies. You wilfatonce see 

 the great difference between fishing with the fly and murder- 

 ing fish with bait. One is clean and artistic, the other re- 

 pulsive and dirty. At certain seasons the bait fisherman 

 may be more successful, but at others the fly will prove by 

 far the best, if not the only lure, while on the whole, I con- 

 sider it immeasurably the most honorable method of catch- 

 ing trout. Your affectionate uncle, 



Kit Clarke. 



New York, March 10. 



ROCKY MOUNTAIN TROUT STREAMS. 



Denveb, Col., April 28, 1886. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



"Hollow Rib," of Hastings, la , asks for information about 

 trout fisbing along the Denver & Rio Grande Railway in this 

 State. He can hardly go amiss of good fishing along almost 

 any of its lines. Taking the main line hence to Salt Lake 

 he will reach the trout country at Salida, and find them 

 plentiful in the South Arkansas and all the smaller tribu- 

 taries of the Arkansas. Continuing west over the main 

 range at Marshall Pass he will reach the headwaters of the 

 Gunnison, and follow down that stream, with good trout 

 streams coming in from right and left every few miles all 

 the way to Grand Junction at the crossing of Grand River. 

 After passing the great valley of the Grand and Green he 

 will find trout in all or most of the mountain streams of Utah 

 to Salt Lake City. Returning to Salida he can turn north up 

 the Arkansas to Leadville, and fish Lake Creek, Twin Lakes, 

 Clear Creek and numerous others. Beyond Leadville he can 

 take the Eagle Rriver branch and go by rail fat down that 

 stream, which is one of the best for trout in the country. 

 Coming back to Leadville he can take the Blue River line to 

 Dillon at the junction of Ten-Mile Creek, Blue River, Swan 

 River and Snake River, in all of which, and in scores of 

 their tributaries within easy reach, he will find as good 

 trouting as he need ever hope to enjoy. Coming further 

 back to Pueblo he may there take the San Juan branch of 

 the road over the Saugre-de-Christo range of mountains to 

 San Luis Park. There he can fish the Rio Grande River 

 along the railway track from Alamosa to Wagon Wheel Gap, 

 to say nothing of South Fork and many smaller tributaries. 

 Having exhausted that field he can come back to Alamosa 

 and take the Durango line, reaching thereby the network of 

 tributaries of the San Juan River, said to abound in trout, 

 but of which I cannot speak from personal experience. In 

 short "Hollow Rib" can take the Rio Grande Railway and 

 it branches and put in an "open season" trouting, and every 

 day a new stream. It is not necessary to wade to fish any 

 of these streams. Some fishermen wade from choice, and 

 it is occasionally very handy to do so, but 1 never yet have 

 been obliged to wade a single Colorado stream in trouting. 



Editor Forest and Stream: _ 



Noticing "Hollow Rib's" inquiry m your issue of the 

 22d as to trout fishing localities along the line of the D. & 

 R. G, Railway, I venture to give the results of my knowl- 

 edge on the subject. . 



In the immediate vicinity of Salida are the following, all 

 good trout streams. The South Arkansas, part of which, m 

 the sbape of ditches, runs through town, and its branches, 

 Poncha and Silver creeks and North Fork. Above town, 

 thirteen miles distant, is Chalk Creek, and further, at Buena. 

 Vista, Cottonwood Creek; Pine and Clear creeks, near gran- 

 ite and Twin lakes, near Leadville. Crossing Marshall .Pass, 

 a trip that should be taken owing to its scenic attractions, 

 with Sargent's as a base of operations, are Marshall and 

 Tomichi creeks. At Parlins, twenty miles below Quartz, 

 Cochetopa and Tomichi. From Gunnison, the Gunnison 



