314 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May », 1689. 



A NOVA SCOTIA REMINISCENCE. 



AS the true angler grows older he cares less and less 

 for large baskets of fish, and more for associations 

 connected with the fishing. I do not mean by this that 

 there are any of ns who do not like to have our efforts 

 well rewarde d — else we might as well fish in a bathtub- 

 bit what I do mean is that much enjoyment is to be de - 

 rived from pitting your skill against the sagacity of some 

 old mossback, whom years of experience have taught 

 that the flies which drop so alluringly over his resting- 

 place have stings in their tails. 



I well remember one such encounter with an old trout, 

 whose home was the deep clear pool of a New Brunswick 

 brook. 



When I first caught a gliinpse of him, he was sur- 

 rounded by a number of bis kin possessed of less body 

 and intellect. Well concealed by the bushes, I succeeded 

 in hooking him at the first cast, but so lightly that I lost 

 him. For weeks afterward, as I passed up and do%vn the 

 brook, he lay in the same pool moving his fins and ap- 

 parently engaged in deep reflection, from which no wile 

 of mine could awaken in him the desire to rise again. In 

 vain I tempted him with all the changes that my fly-book 

 offered; there he lay in full view, fanning awav with his 

 pectorals so sullenly that I almost yielded to the tempta- 

 tion to jig him. That trout got to haunt me, his capture 

 seemed beyond my skill, and as I looked at him from day 

 to day his size increased. 



Just at dusk on the last afternoon of my stay, I crept 

 up to the pool where my old fish lay; the white-miller 

 dropped within 6in. of his nose— a swirl, and I had him 

 well hooked, and three minutes later he was flopping in 

 my creel. I need not add that I was more proud of that 

 one trout than I would have been of twenty that had not 

 cost me the effort. 



This brings me back to my subject, a trip that I made 

 last August with my friend Harry S., one of the keenest 

 and most successful sportsmen in the Province, to one of 

 the sea trout rivers on the Atlantic coast of Nova Scotia.' 

 Out of courtesy to those who so kindly invited us to share 

 their sport, I must refrain from mentioning the name of 

 the stream. Harry and I did not much enjoy our long- 

 journey by stage to reach the village where our friends 

 lived, but one Saturday afternoon found us at our desti- 

 nation, and before evening we had met the various mem- 

 bers of the Inland Fishing Company (Limited), as they 

 have facetiously named their club. That night, in spite, 

 of the heavy rain, the club gathered in large numbers 

 about the stove in the office of the genial president, better 

 known to the club as the Colonel, or for short "Kern." 

 Pipes and fish stories were the order of the evening. It 

 was arranged that on Monday the Colonel and Mr. Aus- 

 ten were to accompany us to their favorite pool and 

 camping ground, and that the start was to be made in 

 time to enable us to have the evening fishing. Enos. 

 with his ox team, was to be at the mouth of the river to 

 convey the boats and dunnage to the pool. It was planned 

 that on Monday morning we should fish a large lake that 

 lay close to the road leading to the river. 



We spent Sunday in quiet chat and in walks about the 

 pretty town, along the beach and upon the cliffs. 



Monday morning bright and early we were on our way 

 to the lake. Mr. Johnson, one of the club, acted as our 

 pilot and showed us where all the good spots for fishing 

 were. No one could have been more eager for our suc- 

 cess than he, nor more delighted when we hooked a good 

 trout, "You have him and he's a posy," Johnson would 

 exclaim. We had fine sport fishing from the boat and 

 killed twenty sea trout, weighing from £ to 21bs. each. This 

 lake has connection with the sea and the trout work their 

 way up to it to fatten on the young herring that swarm 

 in the waters of the lake; some of those that we caught 

 were fairly crammed with them. These lake fish differed 

 in many respects from those we caught later in Nameless 

 River. They had short blunt noses that kept their width 

 to the end; in color, though much lighter than the ordin- 

 ary run of brook trout, they did not present the silvery 

 appearance of the Nameless River trout. In fact the 

 latter had the form and color of salmon in miniature and 

 seemed to take the fly in much the same way — just beneath 

 the surface. The high water in the river, however, may 

 have had something to do with that circumstance. The 

 flesh of both lake and river fish was of a bright salmon 

 color. 



About three o'clock shouts from the shore announced 

 the presence of the Colonel and Austen; so, leaving J. to 

 complete the string, we were soon ashore, and on our 

 way. Enos was on hand at the mouth of the river; so, 

 leaving him to follow with the boats and traps, we 

 pushed on with rods and landing nets. A five-mile walk 

 brought us to our camping ground, and a more lovely 

 spot could not well be imagined. The pool is about 

 300yds. in length, and from 35 to 75yds. in width, with 

 quite a heavy fall pouring into it at the upper end; the 

 banks on either side are well wooded to th'e water's edge. 

 We were not long in getting our rods together. Unfor- 

 f ortunately, recent rains had swollen the river very much, 

 and the outlook for good fishing was not very promising. 

 However, H.'and I were soon at it, but only .succeeded in 

 raising one or two little fellows; but we smothered our 

 disappointment, and, trusting that luck would change in 

 the morning, all set to work to fix up camp for the night. 



Austen prides himself on his camp cookery, and I doubt 

 if many people in Nova Scotia sat down to a better meal, 

 with better appetites, than we did that night. When the 

 time came for pipes Enos washed the dishes and enter- 

 tained us with quaint recitals of personal adventures. I 

 should like to tell the story just as he did, of how he hap- 

 pened to become a prolnbitionist; but the tale would lose 

 its pungent flavor it related by another. 



Tuesday morning we were awakened by the patter of 

 rain upon the tent. How it poured! Once in a while 

 between showers we crept out into the cold drizzle, baled 

 the boats, paddled out upon the stream and tried a cast 

 or two. Harry insisted that there must be grilse in such 

 a river. Once, during a lull in the downpour, he stole 

 out by himself and we saw nothing niore of him for 

 some time. At last, however, back he came, fairly pale 

 with excitement. "You say there ain't any grilse in that 

 pool; I know better. I hooked one in the eddy under the 

 fall, and an old whale he was, too, He made three rushes, 

 and I reeled him in. I saw his whole length, and if he 

 didn't weigh OJbs, I don't know anything about nsb £ 1 1 



was just slipping the net under him when that beastly 

 old boat swung round, and I'll be blamed if he didn't run 

 away with fly casting line and all." 



"Oh," said the Colonel, " he's only one of Johnson's 

 posies. If we only had some decent weather we would 

 carry home six or seven dozen such." In the afternoon 

 we caught quite a number of fish, mostly river trout, 

 which we had Enos fry for supper. Both of our friends 

 thought that the fish had gone further up stream, and 

 that we would find a school of sea trout in a pond five 

 miles further up. It was determined that next morning 

 early we should pack our traps and go up to it. 



We had a long and very wet walk, passing through a 

 number of swamps. One Avho has never traversed a 

 Nova Scotia bog can have little idea of it. The ones we 

 crossed that day were covered with moss, with here and 

 there clumps of hardhack and an occasional stunted hack- 

 matack. Near the latter one will always find the deepest 

 slough; the neighborhood of these trees, therefore, must 

 be studiously avoided. In walking you sink half way to 

 your knee at every step, and feel the whole mass of moss 

 beneath your feet yield, and see it wave in front of you, 

 reminding you of the time when as a boy you used to 

 play "tickly-bender" on the ice. If you break through 

 this fibrous float it is uncertain how far you will go before 

 reaching bottom, but you can safely reckon on getting 

 wet to your waist. The oxen broke through a nuaiber of 

 times but succeeded finally in getting across alive. 



The upper pool looked promising, but the fish weren't 

 there. Enos suggested that we should float down in the 

 boats next morning fishing as we went, and in this Avay 

 be sure to meet the fish somewhere. The plan seemed 

 good, so arranging with Enos to pack up and meet us 

 four miles below, we started on our journey. All went 

 well until we had accomplished about half of the distance, 

 when we came to a rapid, the looks of which neither 

 Harry nor I liked; but the Colonel and A. led the way 

 while we stopped at the head of the rapid to watch them. 



Both boats were light, flat-bottomed punts. After 

 going down about 30yds. both of our friends dropped 

 their paddles and clutched frantically the overhanging 

 bushes, at the same instant the current rushed over the 

 stern and the men tumbled out on the bank pretty 

 thoroughly soaked. The rushing waters caught the 

 abandoned skiff, whirled it around like a straw and left 

 it bottom up on a rock in mid stream. I shall never for- 

 get the comical expression of the Colonel's face, as with 

 bulging eyes he clung to that bush, though they said I 

 duplicated it a few minutes later. In our boat there was 

 an anchor fastened to some cod line, but unfortunately 

 the latter was not made fast, so that when Harry seeing 

 the catastrophe ahead and wishing to avoid a similar 

 one, dropped his oars and jumped ashore with the mud- 

 hook, there was nothing left for me to do but to sit in the 

 bottom of the boat holding my much-loved rod and to 

 float down stream in as dignified a manner as possible, 

 amid the jeers and laughter of the three on the bank. I 

 soon brought up standing on a rock, whence I was rescued 

 hy the united efforts of my friends. 



To make a long story shoirt.Enos was headed off, brought 

 in his team and took us back to our first camping ground. 

 Here we had the best fortune of the trip. In a little cove 

 of the pool we struck and brought to net some heavy fish. 

 It was great sport to see our friends watch the action of 

 nur light rods; they had prophesied disaster to them from 

 the first should large fish be encountered, for the Inland 

 Fishing Club is, or rather was, wedded to the English 

 idea of a heavy 14ft. rod for sea trout, and my 8oz. split- 

 bamboo, Imbrie, was a revelation to them. 



"I tell you, Kern," said Johnson, " Vail' s rod is a beauty, 

 but just wait until he hooks one of tho3e posies, you see 

 if it doesn't buckle and break." 



That last afternoon I think I did some missionary work 

 in the rod line, for, while our companions were quite 

 near to us, a large sea trout took my stretcher, and just 

 as I struck another rose to my dropper, and I hooked 

 them both. The Colonel and Mr. Austen watched the 

 fight with great interest, but the bamboo conquered at 

 last, and Harry skillfully netted them for me. The 

 larger fish measured 22in., and the smaller 18in. 



A fly known (locally, probably) as the Jeremy-Diddler 

 we found most killing. As it is unknown to tackle 

 dealers in New York, I will describe it: Body, bright 

 green mohair or wool, wrapped with gold tinsel; legs, 

 aright orange hackle; tail, brown turkey; wings, the same, 

 with cheiTv-red shoulders. 



It was evident that the trout were just coming into 

 the pool, and that by remaining a few days longer we 

 could have great sport; but the business engagements of 

 our friends, and the fact that our provisions were begin- 

 ning to run low, compelled us to return. Considering 

 the condition of the stream, which Enos said was quite 

 as high as during the spring freshets, we did not do badly, 

 and what we lacked in fish we made up in jollity. On 

 reaching the road we found the carriage in waiting and 

 were soon on our way to town. 



Neither Harry nor I will soon forget the kindness we 

 received at the hands of the Inland Fishing Company, 

 and we hope next summer to have the pleasure of seeing 

 Austen's long legs leading the way through the bush, and 

 to hear the Colonel's short fat ones plumping through the 

 puddles behind us. Prescott B. Vail. 



BOWELS OF COMPASSION. 



I WONDER if man's sympathy for God's creatures in- 

 creases as he grows older? I am led to ask this ques- 

 tion through my own experience, going back twenty-five 

 years to the time when I, a boy of 12, came into proud 

 possession of my first gun. How well I remember when 

 my father decreed that I had become sufficiently expert 

 to be trusted in the woods alone with it, and with what 

 pride I exhibited the three red squirrels brought down by 

 my own hand on that never-to-be-forgotten first hunt. It 

 is needless to say that armed with that trusty cap lock 

 the thought furthest from my mind, while tramping 

 through the woods, was any possible pain I might inflict 

 on such stray squirrels or rabbits as might cross my path. 

 J. wanted blood, good rich red blood, and my only regret 

 upon returning home at night was that so little gore was 

 upon my infantile hands. 



So for years this insatiable longing to destroy possessed 

 me. I could gloat over the dying agonies of a gray 

 squirrel as he tore and bit at the twigs and leaves at the 

 foot of his home tree from which I had just brought him 

 down with my gum i 

 The puff of feathers and limp cringing of the grouss of 1 



quail crossing before me, as my finger pressed the trigger 

 was the acme of delight, and the jerking of my creel 

 against my side as a lOin. trout flapped franticallv therein 

 filled my piscatorial soul with ecstatic tittilations. I 

 gauged my pleasures afield by the number of buds, 

 beasts or fishes added to nay score, never once consider- 

 ing the possibility of any of my victims having as good a 

 right to live as I. 



Suddenly a change came over me. While my love for 

 field sports was just as strong in me as ever, I began to 

 find that my sympathies were gradually going over to the 

 side of the innocents, and when in pursuing some par- 

 ticular bird or animal that same bird or animal eluded 

 me, instead of a feeling of disappointment pervading my 

 mind I found rather a sense of relief and comfort. I 

 don't wish it understood by this that my heart has be- 

 come softened to that degree supposed to prevail in the 

 central organ of the barnyard fowl, or that I have joined 

 that noble order recognizing the late Henry Bergh as its 

 founder. Not so. I only know that while still a keen 

 and eager sportsman I have somehow passed from 

 that sanguinary state of boyhood and early manhood, to a 

 condition in which I recognize myself as only one of God's 

 least creatures, with no more rights in the premises than 

 his meanest animate creation. 



Now all this is involuntary. I did not court it. It came 

 upon me gradually, and like oil upon troubled waters it 

 has left me sympathetic and calm. Were I an old man 

 it might be said, "He has passed through the bustle of 

 life and now in his declining years he sees the folly and 

 injustice of wantonly sacrificing God's creatures;" but I 

 am not an old man, not even a middle-aged man, so that 

 can't be the trouble. Were 1 a rich man, oppressed with 

 the cares of fortune to that extent that pei force I was 

 deprived of the joys of the field, and by lack of contact 

 with natural objects lost all interest in matters sporting, 

 and so for an excuse would say, "It is wrong," that 

 might offer a solution. But I am not a rich man, and 

 every year finds me at my accustomed haunts along the 

 covers and beside the streams. 



Is there in the ethics of the field such a thing aa a 

 sportsman's change of heart? Something akin to the 

 great change that takes place in man when he turns from 

 the follies of this world to something higher and better? 

 I think so and believe that to this is due my present con- 

 dition. Now what brought it about and what will be its 

 results touching my future? 



In communing with nature through the instrumen- 

 tality of my gun and rod I have learned to love her for 

 herself alone. I have found infinitely more pleasure and 

 solid comfort in admiriug her wonders, and studying 

 her beauties than in shearing her of those beautiful crea- 

 tures that go so far toward enhancing her delights. 



Still I always take a shot when I can get it and never 

 pass a favorable pool unwhipped. I take what I can get 

 thankfully, knowing that no matter how much or how 

 little of game or fish I may get I still have left the whole 

 broad realm of nature to dra w from, and the result is I am 

 never unsuccessful. 



Now I would respectfully ask brother sportsmen if this 

 isn't a proper condition to be in? No more anxiety re- 

 garding possible failures. No horrible regrets bom of 

 unaccountable misses and broken leaders. Best of all, no 

 necessity of lying to increase the measure of small success 

 to the alleged proper standard. All these are done away 

 with in this new-found condition, and the sportsman over 

 whom this change comes becomes a sportsman indeed. 



It is possible I may stand alone in this great reforma- 

 tory act, but I don't believe it, and if there are other 

 sportsmen who find after years of practice that they still 

 have bowels of compassion linked to a devoted love for 

 field sports, I would like to hear from them. 



H, W. D. L. 



FIVE DAYS A SAVAGE.-V. 



NOTES OP A HUNTER— NATURALIST IN THE NORTHWEST. 



GVULF OF GEORGIA, British Columbia.— At the first 

 J break of dawn I awoke. The gulls had commenced 

 their cries once more. Now, I had been trying for two 

 days to get some more cormorants, but could not get 

 even a shot at them, they were soshy. Iknew they must 

 be roosting on the north end of the rock furthest from 

 me, and that they would start at the first alarm. As 

 they roost on the top of a wall of rock directly over the 

 water, it is impossible to shoot one and prevent its falling 

 into the water. I knew that after the shooting I had 

 done, it would be useless for me to try to approach them 

 in the boat; so I concluded to crawl within shot over the 

 top of the rock. Carefully I climbed the rock and crept 

 along the ledge on its very edge. Finally I could see one 

 of the birds and hear others flying, as the gulls warned 

 them of my approach. Taking a snap shot at the one in 

 sight, I sprang to the top of the rock as my bird whirled 

 down, heels over head, and as the others made the sheer 

 plunge over the edge, I shot another, and then putting in 

 another shell, I dropped one more. I quickly climbed 

 down to my boat and pulled out into the current. I 

 found the first and second birds lying on the water, 

 secured the first and started for the second, when he sud- 

 denly disappeared and I never saw him again. The third 

 was still on the water, but well able to swim, having 

 somewhat recovered from the effects of the shot. He 

 was out of gunshot, and I had to let him go or give up 

 landing again on that rock. 



Well, I had one fine old female, and now for the puffins' 

 nests. At the top of the rock in the light soil and above 

 the edge of the cliff I found plenty of their burrows. I 

 commenced to dig at one with a three-cornered hoe, 

 which I had brought along for the purpose, and soon 

 found I had a bird inside. After going in some four 

 feet I put in my arm to its full length and drew out the 

 bird and then a white egg covered with red earth. I 

 continued digging for two or three hours. Talk about 

 dogs digging out woodchucks! It wasn't a circumstance. 

 I chopped roots, dug out stones, went in head first, got 

 all covered with red earth, got my hair, mouth and shoes 

 full. It wasn't much trouble to get rid of the dirt, for as 

 fast as I shovelled out it went over the rocks and straight 

 down, in some places 150ft. or so. I noticed a few holes, 

 into which I could put my arm and reach the egg. These, 

 I think, were the holes of birds nesting for the first time, 

 a* they had a very new, fresh look, while soma of th«s 



