188 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



[Mabch 17, 1887. 



THE FALLS POOL. 



" Y}® 3 ° u knoAv * nat ^ ar ^ hoNow, 3St£r. Harry?" asked 

 JL* Will, pointing' to a deep ravine a mile below us. 

 "Yes, what about it? 1 ' I said. 



"Why, down that hollow comes a little creek that has 

 in it the biggest trout you ever saw — regular whoppers. 

 Five years ago I caught in that creek the biggest trout I 

 ever saw anywhere in these mountains. I often thought 

 I'd go back, but I never got there, and I don't believe 

 that creek has been fished in since, for nobody knows 

 of it." 



"Well, suppose we try it," I said. 



"All right Mr. Harry; I'll take you to it, and if you 

 don't catch the biggest trout you ever caught, why — well 

 I'll carry all our traps home myself." 



We were eating our noonday lunch on Eagle Creek, 20 

 miles above old Barney's cabin, when Will pointed out 

 this ravine. It lay to the east of Eagle Creek, a mile 

 below us. The mountains on cither side rose high and 

 steep and covered with hemlocks, giving a dark, gloomy 

 appearance to the mouth of the ravine. 



"Mr. Harry, there's a hole up that ravine just below a 

 falls that's got trout in it as long as that stick," said Will, 

 holding up a stick 2ft. long. 



"Nonsense, Will, you don't mean it." 



"I tell you it's the truth. I saw them that day, and I 

 broke my line on a trout that was as long as that stick, 

 and 1 know it," said he, with a positive shake of his 

 head. 



"Well, Will, as soon as we finish dinner and have our 

 smoke, we'll start for this creek and try to find some of 

 these big trout." 



"I'm thinking if we strike over the mountain about 

 where we see that big pine," said Will, pointing to a 

 high pine that stood boldly out on the mountain top," 

 "I'm thinking if Ave cross near that pine, we'll strike the 

 creek on the other side just about the falls, and then Ave 

 can fish down to Avhere it empties into Eagle Creek." 



"All right, A r ou be the guide and I'll follow." 



An hour later we shouldered our traps and started on our 

 journey over the mountain. It was about 5 o'clock when 

 Ave broke pur Way through the last patch of laurel and 

 stood on the bank of the creek. It was a Avild mountain 

 stream rushing through a deep valley. The volume of 

 Avater was immense, but the channel was narroAv and 

 rocky and the stream dashed about among the rocks until 

 it seemed a boiling mass of foam. The roar of a falls 

 below came plainly to our ears. 



"There it is," said Will, "I kneAv we'd come out near 

 the falls. We can't fish in this swift water; let's go in 

 down to the falls." 



It Avas possibly 6 o'clock when we reached the falls. 

 Concealed behind a rock which stood at their edge, I 

 looked over the prettiest bit of fishing Avater I had ever 

 seen. The rocky sides of the stream converged just above 

 the falls and the water narrowed into a small channel, 

 leaped up, massed over itself, shot in little hissing 

 streams into the air and then made the leap doAvn twenty 

 feet into the pool below. For ten feet below tlie falls the 

 water was boiling and seething and whirling in swift 

 swirls. Beyond stretched a long narrow pool, where the 

 water lay smooth and quiet as though resting after its 

 long rush down the rapids. The rocks and ferns that 

 lined the sides were mirrored in its clear, deep green 

 water. 



"Now." said Will, "it's getting toward evening. Put 

 on some gray flies and cast over near that rock that's 

 sticking its nose out of the SAvift water and I think you'll 

 see a good fish." 



I did as Will directed. Before the flies touched the 

 water the tail fly was taken and I landed a poor little 

 trout of eight inches. "Well, Will, if this is one of your 

 big trout, we could have clone better on Eagle Creek." 



"Never you mind, Mr. Harry, that's only a little fellow 

 that Avas skimming near the top; try them again." 



I lengthened my line and cast "well below the swift 

 water. The surface broke just as the flies were begin- 

 ning to make their trail visible on the AA^ater. Two streaks 

 of gold leaped into the air; a quick, sharp stroke, and 

 both were hooked. Down they plunged into the depths; 

 back and forth they sped across the pool, until wearied 

 and exhausted, the)' gave up the struggle and Ave landed 

 them in the slack water at our feet, good 12in. trout both 

 of them. The nest half hour I took six more, the largest 

 loin. I was taking the last one from the hook when Will 

 cried: "Oh, look there, Mr. Harry!" I turned and looked 

 in the direction he pointed. The wake of a fish Avas 

 plainly visible on the surface. We watched it several 

 seconds as it circled around through the clear water near 

 the surface. Just then a white moth came out of the 

 pines and flew across the pool. It Avas fully three feet 

 above the surface, and had reached the middle of the 

 pool when there was a splash, a long streak of light shot 

 into the air, an instant remained in sight, then plunged 

 back into the water. "Quick," said Will, "put on a white 

 fly and try that felloAv, he's the biggest trout I've seen 

 this many a year." 



I tried fly after fly, I trailed across the place where we 

 had seen him, but no rise came. I was beginning to de- 

 spair of getting him when Will started off into the Avoods 

 and soon returned with a large white, moth. "Try this; I 

 think this '11 fetch him if anything will." 



I put on a large hook and 'carefully fastened the moth 

 on it, then dropped it into the waiter at the foot of the 

 falls. 



The moth was instantly sucked under out of sight, and 

 the line sped downward. It had gone some twenty feet 

 when I felt a quick, decided strike. The line tightened, 

 then remained stationary. "Will," I said, "I have a fish 

 and I think he's a good one." "I don't think you have," 

 said Will, "I think you're fast on a log." It did look more 

 like being fast on a log than anything else, but certainly 

 I couldn't have been mistaken, certainly I felt the strike 

 of a fish. "Well Will, look out then," I said, "I'm going 

 to pull anyAvay, and Ave'll see what it is." I raised the 

 point of the rod until the line became perfectly straight; 

 then I struck, struck hard. I thought it Avas a log. The 

 bine remained stationary, taut. A feeling of disappoint- 

 ment took the place of the eager expectation with which I 

 struck. "Will, I guess you were right, I — By Jove, it's a 

 fish after all, and a good one." I tightened 'the line and 

 gave a sharp pull. What a clash he made; such a dash as 

 as only one of these mountain trout can make. The line 

 whizzed through the rings. The reel fairly smoked as it 

 Avhirled around. Forty yards of silk spun out before I 

 thought of trying to stop that mad rush. When I did 



raise the rod it was useless trying to stop the course of the 

 trout. The rod bent into a half circle. The line became 

 thin as a single hair with the tension. Still on went the 

 trout. Yard after yard sped out. He was n earing the 

 rapids below the pool. I tried to check him again. In 

 vain. With a fierce rush bo passed into the rapids. 

 Fortunately my line was a long one. Down the rapids he 

 went. Long as Avas my line it Avas now almost run out. 

 I could spare but little more. I jumped to the top of the 

 rock near me, from it to the ground beyond, and ran 

 along the side of the pool. The fich stopped in a swirl in 

 the rapids. I was careful not to disturb him. I had seen 

 his energy in the still water. What would it be if his 

 next flight were clown among those foamy waters below. 

 I looked with dismay at the dash of the*Avaters beyond 

 the little swirl in which he was resting. Will had fol- 

 lowed me and was looking over my shoulder. 



"Will," I said, as I stood reefing up the slack line, 

 "what are we going to do if he goes on down the creek?" 



"I don't know," answered Will, "I never srav a trout 

 like that, I-I'd break my line and let him go, he'll break 

 your rod if you don't, and that's the only rod you've got." 



"No," 1 said, "I'll break my rod, or I'll break my neck 

 running over these rocks following him, but I'll not let 

 him go." 



"Well, if you will do it, go ahead," said Will, "but 

 you're giving him too much time to breathe." 



Will Avas right, I was leaving him too long in one place, 

 and yet after what I had seen of him I was almost afraid 

 to start him again. I raised the rod and straightened the 

 line and drew it tight. A sullen shake was all the ansAver 

 I got. I gave a smart, quick pull. Instantly he was off, 

 keen, fierce, gamy as when first hooked. Again the reel 

 whizzed. AAvay he went for the rapids. I almost gave 

 up hope, as I saw his course. I deteianined to keep him 

 out of those swift waters if possible. I advanced the butt 

 of the rod. The slender tip bent until its rings rattled on 

 the fingers holding the butt. For a moment the strain on 

 rod, line and nerves AA r as intense. Suddenly the line 

 slackened. The rod flew back straight. "Gone," said 

 Will. 



For a moment I thought he was, but no, he had only 

 changed his course. The next instant he Avas heading 

 up stream, coming with wonderful speed up through the 

 SAvift water. We were standing just at the foot of the 

 pool where the Avater entered the rapids. Up he came 

 nearer and nearer. I had difficulty in gathering up the 

 slack line, so rapid was Ms flight. " An instant more and 

 he had sped past us back into the falls pool. In the 

 center of it he stopped again. "Well," I said, Aviping 

 away the perspiration Avhich AA-as streaming from my 

 face, "that's the gamiest trout or fish of any kind I ever 

 had hold of." "That's so, Mr. Harry," ansAvers Will, "and 

 I don't think your chances for getting him any too good, 

 yet. Aint it kind of funny that he's never jumped out 

 yet. We haven't seen him." It was'strange. In all his 

 struggle he hadn't broken the surface. "There's some- 

 thing odd about that trout. Trout don't stay down deep 

 like that. He seems afraid to show himself. But you're 

 giving him too much rest." 



I acted on Will's suggestion and tightened the line. 

 Instantly, and as if to refute Will's words, he. darted up- 

 ward. The surface broke, and a long streak of salmon- 

 colored light shot into the air, his great mouth open and 

 his jaws shaking, the water splashing in eA T ery direction. 

 Three feet, if an inch, lie leaped clear of the water, then 

 down he Avent with a plunge and disappeared into the 

 green depths. "Great heavens!" shouted Will, "that's 

 the biggest trout that ever grew. Why it's three feet 

 long." It did look that length as it remained for an 

 instant suspended in the air. "Look out," shouted Will, 

 "it's making for the falls." It was going up stream 

 again, pulling all the weight I dare put upon it. Before 

 it reached the swift part of the current it circled out to 

 the edge. At last I got it turned head down stream. 

 Suddenly off it darted" again directly across the pool. 

 Rising to the surface, it splashed the water like a dog 

 swimming. Twice more it ran the length of the pool. 

 Once it nearly made the rapids below. Twice it jumped 

 out far up near the falls, but each run Avas slower and 

 weaker; evidently the struggle Avas nearing the end. At 

 last I found I could control and guide the fish that so far 

 had gone as he pleased. Still strong and active, he yet 

 yielded to the drawing line, and suffered himself to be 

 led rather than to struggle to have his own way. Grad- 

 ually and carefully I led him to the foot of "the pool, 

 where we stood. Twice I got him into the shallow Avater 

 at our feet. TAvice he made a desperate struggle and ran 

 back into the deep water. The third time, as I brought 

 him up, Will slipped the landing-net around him, and the 

 fight Avas over, the fish Avas caught. The instant I saw 

 him inclosed I dropped my rod. The long struggle was 

 ended. The fish was caught, safe, landed. During all 

 the fight my nerves had been strung up to then- highest 

 pitch. I had watched each flight perfectly cool. I had 

 held back the blood that was leaping through my veins. 

 I am certain I was cool and collected until I saw the net 

 inclose the fish; then I felt my knees tremble. The hand 

 that had held the rod shook — every fisherman has experi- 

 enced the same sensation. I sat down on a rock to rest. 

 The fish, still surrounded by the net, lay at my feet. 

 Great goodness, what a fish it was to come out of that 

 little creek. I felt all a fisherman's pride in my capture. 

 Never before and never since have I had such a fight 

 Avith anything that swims as I had that evening on the 

 little stream in the mountains. I looked at Will. He 

 was standing gazing at the fish in astonishment. 



"Well, Mr. Harry," he said, "I didn't think that there 

 Avas such a trout anywhere in the mountains or any- 

 where else, as this one. Why," striking and measuring 

 it with his hands, "it's more than 2*ft. long." When we 

 got it home it proved by actual measurement to be 32|in. 

 in length. 



"You'd better take it out of the net," I said. Will 

 carried it a few yards from the water, and when taking- 

 it out he suddenly called, "Oh, come here, Mr. Harry, 

 just look at this fish; it's the funniest trout I ever saw*" 1 

 Avent to him. The fish was lying on the grass. I stooped 

 over and examined it. It certainly Avas a strange-looking 

 trout. It looked like a trout; it had the dark back and 

 rosy sides of a trout, but it lacked the yellow and 

 A'ermilion spots. Its eyes were not so prominent as 

 a trout's. Its head was flatter, its teeth larger, sharper 

 and more irregular, its tail more deeply forked, its pec- 

 toral and dorsal fins Avere a bluish green; its tail an 

 olive yellow striped like a perch. In shape it was like a 

 trout, though slimmer; more muscular looking. Evi- 



dently it was not a trout unless of a rarely seen variety. 

 It certainly had shown some rare poAvers of endurance.' 



"Will," I said, "that isn't a trout." 



"No," he said, "I never saw one like it. But what is it 

 if it ain't a trout?" 



"I don't know," I answered. And I have never to this 

 day been able to find out what kind of a fish I caught that 

 evening, though I have examined numerous books and 

 asked many fishermen. 



It was growing dark when Ave finished examining the 

 fish, so we concluded to stay where Ave were for the night 

 and try the. falls pool again in the morning. Supper over, 

 we lighted our pipes and lay down on our beds of 

 branches. Oh, the luxury of that quiet smoke! the camp- 

 fire blazing among the pines, the music of the falls, the 

 refreshing coolness that had taken the place of the day's 

 heat, the odor of pine and balsam lading the air, the 

 quiet, lazy, indolent feeling that comes after a hard day's 

 tramp. Who wouldn't trudge thi-ough forests, climb 

 mountains and wade streams for the pleasure of their 

 evenings by camp-fires alone in the great foiests? 



For an hour I lay there, going over again my struggle 

 with the trout, and looking forward with eager expecta- 

 tion to the morrow. 



Suddenly a Ioav rumbling sound over the western 

 mountains interrupted my meditation. Then the Ioav 

 moaning sound of wind sigliing through the trees reached 

 our ears. A few minutes later a flash of lightning lit up 

 the pines with a pale, sickly light. The wind greAv 

 stronger. The lightning flashes brighter and more fre- 

 quent. The thunder louder and nearer. And soon the 

 pattering of rain drops Avarned us that one of those sud- 

 den mountain storms was upon us. "There's a shelving 

 rock above here," said Will, "and we had better get under 

 it before the storm comes." Hastily moving our beds 

 and dry wood under the shelving rock Ave kindled a neAV 

 fire, and it had scarcely begun to burn when the storm 

 burst in all its fury over the valley. The rain fell in 

 torrents. The lightning flashes Avere constant. The 

 most terrific thunder I ever heard burst peal on peal over 

 our very heads. For mure than an hour the storm raged 

 in all its fury. Then the lightning and thunder ceased, 

 and a quiet, gentle rain fell through the pines. Sheltered 

 by the overhanging rocks, and lulled by the falling ram, 

 we soon slept soundly. 



It was broad daylight when Ave awoke. The little 

 stream of the night before was now a raging torrent of 

 murky, black-looking water, all fishing in it over for days 

 to come. Reluctantly I packed my fishing rod and Ave 

 started for old Barney's, and never since have I got back 

 to that little stream that dashes down among the hem- 

 locks in the heart of the Alleghanies. F. I. Sherman. 



PODDLER FISHING AT THE PIER. 



THE river Tweed, which forms for some tliirty miles 

 of its lower course the boundary between England 

 and Scotland, is known to anglers and epicures as one of 

 the finest salmon rivers in the British Islands. With its 

 130 miles of main channel and its 1,000 miles of tribu- 

 taries and their branches, it affords to the migratory 

 salnionida? a vast extent of spaAvning grounds, and offers 

 to the angler a series of casts in stream and pool which 

 not only supply sport and food to the residents of the 

 vicinity, but annually attract hundreds of visitors from 

 other parts to enjoy the sport of. salmon fishing in this 

 celebrated stream. I may say, in passing, that the Tweed 

 and its tributaries are no' less renowned for the abundance 

 of speckled trout which they all contain from their 

 sources to the sea, and for the grand sport they afford to 

 those less ambitious brethren of the angle aa'Iio do not. 

 aspire to the capture of the lordly salmon, but content 

 themselves with the pursuit of his humbler relative. 



While salmon and sea trout maybe observed ascending 

 the river at every season of the year, the great annual 

 migration of the spawning fish takes place during the 

 months of October and November, Avhen the fall rams 

 have swollen the rivers sufficiently to give them access to 

 the upper Avaters. At such times these fish may be seen 

 at the several caulds (mill dams) which obstruct their 

 upwwjrd course, leaping and struggling in great numbers 

 in their endeavor to surmount these obstacles. One after- 

 noon in November, 1846, I went to Noav Mills on the 

 Whitadder, a pretty little river which joins the Tweed 

 about three miles from the ocean, to see the fish ascend- 

 ing the dam. The river had been in high flood the day 

 before, but the Aveather Avas too wet and the roads too 

 dirty for pleasant walking, and Avhen I got to the mill 

 the water had fallen considerably. The dam, I may ex- 

 plain, is constructed so as to liave the steep side up 

 stream, and the down-Stream side has a slope of some 

 •30ft. with a height of 10 or 12ft., the Avhole being solidly 

 built of stone. The water Avas running about a foot 

 deep oA-er the south end of the dam, near which I stood, 

 but only 3 or 4in. deep toward the middle, while a few 

 feet of the north end rose above the level of the stream, 

 and the water below the dam reached about one-third up 

 the slope. During the hour I stood watching I counted 

 120 attempts made by fish to surmount the cauld, only 

 some 20 of Avhich were successful. Those which I saw 

 were mostly small, ranging from 2 or 31bs. to 8 or lOlbs. 

 in weight, and Avere evidently sea trout, the larger fish 

 having no doubt gone up in the deeper Avater on the pre- 

 vious day. They would leap clear of the water and 

 attain about half-way up the slope, but after striving to 

 swim upward they would become exhausted and be 

 SAvept back into the pool below. 



Those Avhich succeed in getting over this, and the many 

 dams which cross the various streams, after depositing 

 their eggs in the gravel, drop downward toward the sea, 

 though many of them remain in the fresh Avater till the 

 spring freshets, when they come down in great numbers 

 as "kelts" or foul fish, their silvery brightness gone and 

 replaced by a dull brick red or dirty broAvn color, their 

 bodies lank and lean, and presenting altogether a dilapi- 

 dated and disreputable appearance. 



The eggs hatch out in the following spring, and those 

 of the embryos Avhich escape the pivrsuit of their numer- 

 ous enemies, viz., water insects, crayfish, eels, speckled 

 trout and even the older fry of their own species, remain 

 in then- native streams eighteen months or two years. 

 During this period of their lives they are known as "parr," 

 and are distinguished by their slender and elegant shape, 

 then- deeply forked tail and by rows of "finger-marks'' 

 and numerous black and red spots on each side. About 

 the beginning of their third year, when they have at- 

 tained a length of from 4i- to 5in., a change comes over 



