June 16, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



455 



Address all eomnwnicatiom to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



PLANK-SHAD; 



I KNOW "plank-shad" are not classified iu works on 

 icthyology, yet fish epicures in and about the national 

 capital refuse to admit there is any other worthy of men- 

 tion in comparison. They divide mankind into these two 

 great classes, those who have eaten "plank-shad" and 

 those who have not. Candor compels the sad confession 

 that the second class greatly outnumbers the first; but 

 this is modified by the fact that the former are of the 

 elect, and distinguished by an air of conscious superiority, 

 born of triumph in the highest fish degree of gastronomy. 



A certain Roman emperor sometimes found, and as 

 Often bewailed, that he had "lost a day," but ye who 

 have never dined on "plank-shad" have lost all your days. 

 Will you, reader, reform at once? If so, come with me 

 on board the trim steamboat, the Corcoran, which will 

 go this bright May morning sixteen miles down the Poto- 

 mac to Marshall Hall, opposite Mt. Yemon, where Col. 

 McKibben, the genial host and an old '49er, will see that 

 you are served secundum artem. There, we are already 

 on board, and are fast leaving behind us an extended 

 view of the city, wherein the white dome of the capitol 

 and the cloud-piercing pinnacle of the Washington monu- 

 ment will linger long after all surrounding objects shall 

 have faded from sight. We steam swiftly past the green- 

 carpeted and luxuriantly shaded Arsenal Point — sadly re- 

 nowned since war days— past the broad mouth and pic- 

 turesque bridges of Four-Mile Run, where, like many 

 better, wiser and greater men, your humble compagnon 

 de voyage is wont to resort for pastime in fishing and 

 hunting; on past the city of Alexandria, deader than the 

 hero from whom the name descended, and lastly past 

 the peacefully frowning heights crowned by Forts Foote 

 and Washington. Then the tolling steamboat bell an- 

 nounces that the bright green slopes and grand old man- 

 sion of Mt. Vernon are before us, and also that the end 

 of our pleasant trip is reached. We disembark, to find a 

 "summer resort" beautiful enough to merit a visit, even 

 without the added attraction of "pla nk -shad." 



But let us attend to the business of the day. Look 

 down the river bank. You see fishermen — white, black 

 and medium — hauling a long seine. It is full of shad, 

 herring and perch, with a big sturgeon thrown in for 

 luck. You see his back fin cutting the water like a razor 

 as he darts here and there in the inclosure of the net, and 

 some of the seine haulers are standing ready with club 

 and gaff awaiting the first favorable moment for attack. 

 There! they have stunned and perhaps killed him, and 

 are hauling Mm from the net bag preparatory to ladling 

 out the shad. 



Well, you may now be sure that shad — our "plank- 

 shad"— have been caught, and that you shall eat no stale 

 fish. Now, come along to the outdoor kitchen, in the rear 

 of the mansion, and look in at the open window. (It will 

 be considered no serious intrusion if I explain that I want 

 a "green un" to see how it's done). The black servants 

 (whose heads are, by the way, all ornamented with red 

 bandanas) are dressing the shad just caught. 



Under that tall locust, a few yards from the kitchen, is 

 seen a good fire of pine and cedar logs, and around them 

 a row of planks — lft.x2ft. — supported in nearly ver- 

 tical position. A superannuated negro, a regular, old- 

 fashioned "fo-de-wah" sort of darky, who is lame in one 

 leg and "affiie wid rumatiz in de udder," hobbles around 

 the firy circle, conspicuously and ostentatiously playing 

 the role of inspector-general of shad cooking. With a 

 knowing look at the planks, now browned by the fire, he 

 gives the grand hailing sign, and forth from the kitchen 

 comes a buxom bare-footed daughter of Ham, carrying a 

 tray full of the fresh-caught and dressed shad. These the 

 aforesaid inspector-general proceeds to nail to the planks 

 with a haste limited only by dignity and rheumatism. 

 You note that they are placed with the inner side next 

 the fire; yet. please set down in your memory that it is 

 preferable to give them a short "turn" to insure thorough 

 cooking. The time has now come when the proud master 

 of ceremonies can take up the insignia of his great office, 

 to wit: a wand in the form of a long stick to one of whose 

 ends a clean piece of linen or muslin is attached, and a 

 bottle (or small bucket) filled with mysterious yellow 

 liquid. Ever and anon he inserts the cloth end of the 

 wand in the bottle, and then holds it above a steaming 

 shad, so that the liquid trickles down over it. This is 

 obviously shad basting. 



"What is that liquid made of?" 



"I've investigated and found out that it is melted butter, 

 doctored with salt and pepper, nothing more; and, later, 

 your appreciative palate will be duly thankful it is noth- 

 ing less. 



Note now the air and facial expression of the cook. 

 They show he is conscious of your iguorance, and his own 

 accomplishments. He looks down from his lofty height 

 and wonders "why de pore white trash kin nebber larn 

 dis ere trick." But note again how his manner changes. 

 He's evidently becoming excited. What can it be? Are 

 the fish ruined? Shall we have no "planked shad" after 

 all? Oh! yes. Don't be alarmed. The cook sees that the 

 looked-for climax is approaching. There! it has come. 

 He gives another wild signal, and this time more than one 

 dusky maid comes swiftly to the rescue, and in a trice the 

 crisply-cooked shad are detached from the planks and 

 borne away to the dining hall. Let us follow. We sit 

 down at the table and begin eating at once, for in the 

 lexicon of shad which a good stomach indites for deserved 

 men, there's no such word as wait. Now for the first 

 time in its dismal experience, your stomach — the fish 

 corner of it — lives as it should. "It is a revelation." 

 Well, I knew it would be. It is so to all. Better than 

 any other fish you ever ate. Of course. But never mind 

 talking of that, nor of "gratitude." There'll be time 

 enough later. Eat and be full, for thus you'll be happy. 



Dinner — such a dinner — is over, we rise with new dig- 

 nity, because of added gravity, and wander slowly down 

 the green lawn to a comfortable seat under the trees, 

 whence the broad river and the opposite, bank, with Mt. 

 Vernon in the foreground, are in plain view. 



Think of it! Just over there, from that high-columned 

 portico, where yon sightseers are this moment wandering 

 back and forth, Washington used to look out on this land- 

 scape, yea, this very spot. And then Lafayette and all 

 the other historic personages who came to Mt. Vernon 



after the close of the Revolutionary War! What memor- 

 ies throng — 



"Did Washington ever eat plank-shad?" 



Your head is clearly as full of shad as your stomach. 

 You can think of nothing else. Well, then, the interrup- 

 tion is pardoned, and I will answer your practical and 

 prosaic question by saying I do not know r . But let us, in 

 thankfulness for the blessing of this day, not allow our- 

 selves to doubt that to so good a man so great a boon as 

 "plank -shad" was not denied. 



The steamboat whistle sounds! We have spent a de- 

 lightful day. Let's seek a quiet place aft, where we can 

 look back on this landscape and indulge in reveries befit- 

 ting its attractions, and make our plan for another visit. 

 Washington, D. 0. POTOMAC. 



AN EX-GOVERNOR'S POLE. 



THE crowd of anglers to the Maine waters this season 

 has been, in many sections, greater than last year, 

 and yet the stay of the fishermen has been generally short, 

 especially of those who were rather 'ate in starting. With 

 this the weather has had as much to do as any other 

 cause. The last week in May was remarkably warm, as 

 all will remember who had the good fortune to be on the 

 Maine lakes. June came in with only a single cold day, 

 and then came on a south wind and showers, with rain 

 nearly every day for eight or ten days. The water grew 

 warm at the surface, and the trout, as is their wont, sunk 

 deeper than usual eo early in the season, and all of the 

 first week in June was very poor fishing. In fact those 

 well acquainted with the Androscoggin lakes pronounced 

 the temperature of the water equal to that of early July, 

 and the smaller trout begun to rise to the fly near the 

 mouths of streams and smaller rivers — something rather 

 unusual for so early in June. I know of a number of 

 trout being taken in that way in the Androscoggin waters, 

 while the trolling was remarkably poor. With the poor 

 trolling the sportsman began to get discouraged, and by 

 the 10th of June the lakes were more destitute of sports- 

 men than ever at that date. But they did not all go 

 home. Some staid for better luck, and if reports are 

 true, they have had it. 



The llth of June brought a change in the wind. It 

 came around to the northwest, and anybody familiar 

 with the backwoods of New England in springtime knows 

 what that means. The mercury fell 30 to 40 degrees in a 

 few hours and the surface of the lakes was lashed to a 

 foam by the cooling blast. The trout were pleased, and 

 were ready for business again. One party of three caught 

 seven large trout hi two days, the united weight of which 

 must have been not far from SOlbs. , with a large number 

 of smaller size. During three days before they had fished 

 almost in vain. Dr. Mixter, of Boston, is on record in the 

 papers as catching a trout in Mooselucmaguntic Lake 

 weighing llf lbs. and measuring 29in. in length. It is also 

 stated that the Doctor in two hours' time had not only^ 

 landed this monster trout, but also two others, one of 

 81bs. and another of Gibs. This is a part of the record 

 which followed the advent of a northwest wind and 

 cooler weather on the Androscoggin Lakes. It is a well- 

 known fact to those who keep their eyes open that warm 

 water always drives the larger trout to the bottom in the 

 Maine lakes, and those who would take them must either 

 wait till the water cools, if indeed it does again cool for 

 the season, or they must take their chances at very deep 

 trolling. 



A good many notables have been afishing this spring, 

 and some of the good notables, too. The Hon. John D. 

 Long, Massachusett's much loved Governor that was, 

 now a member of Congress, and his young wife have been 

 to the Androscoggin Lakes fishing, or else on a lark, I 

 am not entirely certain which. They did ride in the cars 

 to Bryant's Pond, the place where the sportsmen leave the 

 railroad, by the Andover route to those lakes. But there 

 they threw off conventionalities and started on foot. Re- 

 port says that they walked some six or seven miles, 

 almost to Rumford/when along jogged a farmer with his 

 springboard; farmer kindly asked the lady to ride. She 

 did so, sitting on the seat with him. The Governor stood 

 up on the seat behind the pair, and they rode up to Rum- 

 ford. There Deacon Tuttle, well-known to the sportsmen 

 who go to the lakes by that route, let the whole story out, 

 when in great surprise he shouted, "Why, Governor, is 

 that you?" The farmer, Mr. M. F. Knight, never felt 

 more honored in his life. But the Governor's lark did 

 not end here. With his wife he kept on to the Upper 

 Dam. There they made a halt. Perhaps that I should 

 explain that they did not make the whole distance, some 35 

 miles, that night on foot, but they took the usual convey- 

 ance, viz., stage, buckboard and steamer. They found 

 quarters at the Upper Dam, and the next day they went 

 a-fishing. But neither the Governor nor his wife had a 

 fish rod. Nothing daunted, however, they proceeded to 

 cut two as straight poles from the woods the best they 

 could find. The Governor was born in Buckfield, Me., 

 and he had cut fish po^es before. About liis lady I am 

 not quite so certain. They went up to Trout Cove. The 

 Governor was his own guide, and rowed the boat. They 

 fell to fishing and caught several trout. The Governor's 

 wife appeared, so they say, "very much like other mor- 

 tals, with a man's hat on and a veil tied over it." They 

 walked back to the Upper Dam camp, rather proud of 

 what they had done with what they were pleased to term 

 their "fifty-dollar outfit." It is all right. If Governor 

 Long and his wife prefer to support ugly heavy poles cut 

 from the woods for a couple of hours — if they prefer such 

 rods to a nice split bamboo, one of the achievements of 

 the mechanical skill of the present day, a thing of beauty, 

 weighing only a few ounces, then the sportsmen of the 

 country have not the slightest objections. 



In a former letter I suggested that the running of the 

 little steamers on the Umbagog Lake, on the Bethel route 

 to Richardson Lake, the Magalloway and Parmacheene, 

 was likely to be a good deal hindered by the loss of the 

 Errol Dam this spring. I find that this is hardly correct, 

 since in building the dam, or another in the place of the 

 old one, the location is to be slightly changed, with the 

 old structure used to stop the flow of water while the new 

 one is building. This is likely to keep up the water in the 

 lake, so that the little steamer can run to Sunday Cove 

 every day, and also to Errol Dam and Wentworth s loca- 

 tion, where the sportsman for the Magalloway and Par- 

 macheene is transferred by a team to the head, of Azisco- 

 hos Falls to connect with the new steamer Magalloway 

 for up the river to Parmacheene. This is a new route, or 

 rather a new means of reacliing that gem of the back- 

 woods, Parmacheene Lake. Special^ 



VERMONT TROUT BROOKS. 



"VI7ELL, Charlie," said Ed, "let's take the horse and 

 V T see if we can find a new brook, or at least one 

 that has not been fished to death. A few years ago I was 

 out with my cousin in B. , and we struck a brook that ran 

 this way and I caught forty-seven, weighing 11 lbs., and 

 I would like to try it again, but I do not know where it is." 



Three of us, cousins, happened to be having a vacation 

 during May in our native town in Vermont. We had 

 had good luck around the tillage, but looked for greater 

 things. Smith and I (the Charlie of the party) sneered at 

 Ed's proposal, for we had pretty well scoured, the country 

 and thought we knew all the streams around, but we 

 agreed for fun to try a trip; and it was settled that we 

 should see what we could find the following Monday. 



With tackle and horse I drove up at Ed's, and after get- 

 tind the girl up found Ed had not yet arisen. It did not 

 take him long to dress and eat; and off we went for 

 Smith. He was found digging bait, but had had no break- 

 fast. At last all was ready; and after stowing boiled 

 eggs and crackers in baskets and pockets, off we went. 

 We drove and drove, passing brooks that had been dis- 

 covered; and meatime Ed, who is in the navy, told yarns. 

 Eight miles out we met a farmer we knew and he in- 

 formed us that there were two brooks further on that no 

 one had visited to his knowledge and they were posted, 

 too. On we went determined to try the one furthest on 

 and then drive back and try the second one. We passed 

 one and it looked thirsty; and the second looked the 

 same; but we knew how streams would dry up for a dis- 

 tance and then go on, so we hitched the horse in the barn 

 of the owner, obtained permission to tramp down his 

 grass and started. Ed, oft. 4in. in a pair of boots 3ft. 

 long, looked rather dumpy, but Smith was in the same 

 fix with his boots. I went in a pair of shoes belonging in 

 the family and large enough for the whole of it. As we 

 supposed, the brook did start in and just below the road, 

 so we baited up, chose positions and started. 



"Hello, one here," I yelled, as I pulled up a nice one, 

 "first blood;" and I looked down in time to see Ed un- 

 hooking one of about a quarter of a pound weight, and 

 Smith just landing his. So on we went, at times the 

 brook being bo narrow that the grass covered it, and but 

 for the swiftness of the water our lines would have been 

 still. Up strearn would dart the line, up would go the 

 pole, and if we were lucky out would come the speckled 

 fellow in the tall grass. So on we went, passing and re- 

 passing each other, crawling up to the bank and all the 

 time going down the brook; past a schoolhouse, where 

 the children gazed onus; through the barnyard, where 

 we pulled out trout to the astonishment of the farmer; 

 under the tag-alders, where we could but see the fish, as 

 no one could put a line in, much less pull it out, until we 

 came to where the dace were thick and trout few; and 

 soon both ceased to show themselves, although the water 

 was deep. But from the looks we knew the summer 

 weather dried it all up, and the fish knew it too. Up the 

 hill to a farmhouse we w r ent, where the farmer told us 

 that a man from B. had taken 125 trout the week before. 

 Back we went over the ground, getting some we had 

 missed, and at last came to the house. I kept on, getting 

 two in the place where they washed clothes, and a nice one 

 in a frog pond, it seemed to be, but the brook had dried 

 up, so I returned. They had 48 and I 39 in our baskets. 



On the old road, when we came to the bridge, I yelled, 

 "Hold on," and out jumped Smith, and, creeping up, 

 caught the two trout I had seen in the shadow of the 

 bridge. Then on we went to the first brook. Ed drove 

 on, leaving us to fish down. Smith struck in back of me, 

 and, as I waited for him, caught three. Over the rocks, 

 down through the woods, out in the meadows we went, 

 until we saw the team hitched under the shed of a house 

 near the road and Ed further down the stream. On the 

 way I had caught a nice one and tlirew him into a hole in 

 the rocks, where he was swimming around, near but yet 

 far. Not to be outdone, I took the tin box out of the bas- 

 ket and bailed the water out until I caught the fish in my 

 hands. Ed had been lost, so had no chance to fish back 

 to meet us. He had not regretted it, and from the glow- 

 ing account he gave of the farmer's daughter, who had 

 piloted him to the right road, the family must have 

 learned something of a sailor. Again the brook dried up, 

 and we bundled into the wagon again, and first Smith and 

 then I jumped out to fish the third and fourth brooks 

 down, leaving Ed to drive as usual. 



I fished till dark, found the horse and wagon, picked 

 up the fellows, and we counted the spoils. Smith led 

 with 79; how many had been transferred to Ed's basket 

 for payment of bait I did not ask. I had 77 and Ed had 

 31, but the goddess of luck was with him after all, as his 

 weighed as much as ours. Our 101b. baskets were almost 

 overflowing, we had found two brooks that were new (to 

 us); and as at 9 o'clock we rolled into the village we felt 

 that it had been a great day after all; and after supper I 

 actually had life enough for a few games of whist. 



Many of the brooks are posted , according to the Ver- 

 mont law, but an application to the owner will generally 

 bring permission to fish. I had good results every time I 

 was out, and while the trout are not large, they are the 

 right size for eating. One day I caught one that weighed 

 a pound, one a half pound, and six of about a quarter 

 pound weight, not counting those smaller; aud i know 

 from sight that I left one that weighed more than a pound 

 and several smaller. These were all caught (and left) in 

 a piece of water perhaps 40 rods in length. 



There have been no large trout caught so far. The 

 trouble with the fish does not he in the over fishing, but 

 the water, and the small streams that used to furnish 

 most of the sport are now dry in summer. One brook in 

 which was caught a trout weighing 2 Jibs, has not a fish 

 in it from the same cause. 



Fishing at Lake Bomoseen had not commenced, but 

 from the zeal displayed in keeping out nets and spears 

 and prohibiting tip-up fishing through the ice out of sea- 

 son, great results are looked for later on. I made a good 

 haul of yellow perch one day, and wished that I had had 

 a few flies, as they rose to the natural flies well. As it 

 was, worms had to do for their diet if they came into my 

 boat. Neshobee. 



Massachusetts.— A visit to Pawtucket Falls yesterday 

 disclosed a lamentable state of affairs at the old fish way. 

 A dozen or more large fish were seen trying to leap over 

 the falls, noticeable among which were several large 

 salmon and some fine eels (lampreys), besides quite a 

 number of others, which would gladden the heart of any 

 "lone fisherman;"— Lowell (Mans.) Daily Courier, June 11. 



