Auu 2, 18B8.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



£7 



or third finger of my left hand, close to the meta" 

 carpal bone; so, with my hand in a splint, I was 

 not in the best form for shooting, but not being contented 

 to let my favorite month of hunting pass without trying 

 the birds. I hitched the mare to the buggy and started 

 with the dogs for an afternoon's shoot. I had scarcely been 

 a minute in the covert before the spaniels commenced to 

 raise the birds. Being compelled to shoot with the gun 

 barrels resting upon my arm just above the wrist, on ac- 

 count of my maimed hands, I, much to my disgust, made 

 six clean misses, after which I immediately returned to 

 my buggy, feeling very crestfallen and bemoaning my 

 luck in being so handicapped when such an excellent 

 opportunity offered of making a splendid bag. Having 

 taken my gun apart and stowed it in the buggy, I called 

 the dogs. They seemed very reluctant to leave such fun, 

 and would come to me and then walk a few yards toward 

 the covert, turn around, look at me in a most pleading 

 manner and whine, so I concluded to let the dogs enjoy 

 the sport, even if then master could not, and as it turned 

 out it was a wise conclusion. 



Returning to the ground I killed, much to my surprise, 

 three bi i ds clean without a miss, and bagged during the 

 remainder of the afternoon seventeen woodcock and a 

 ruffed grouse (or partridge, as we call them here). This 

 was the 12th of the month. Knowing the uncertainty 

 of a flight of woodcock remaining in the same place more 

 than a day or two, I paid the covert a second visit on the 

 following afternoon and killed twelve birds, after some 

 pretty hard work and a number of falls, once into 

 the muddy part of the creek, my gun going in ahead 

 of me. andt out of sight, still griped by my right hand. 

 Had this been in the days of the old muzzleloaders my 

 sport would have come to a sudden termination. On the 

 afternoon of the 15th I tried the birds again, killing eight 

 woodcock and a hare. The hare I killed in order to check 

 the dog. 



My spaniels always chase the hare whenever he crosses 

 their path. At first when owning spaniels some fifteen 

 or more years ago, I used to try to break them of this 

 habit, but I remarked that it was my best dogs that in- 

 variably had this trick the worst, so I came to the con- 

 clusion that all good hunting spaniels will chase the hare, 

 and for years I have not tried to check my dogs, always 

 shooting the hare if I can, as the best plan of putting a 

 stop to a rather disagreeable mterraption of a pleasant 

 cock shoot. 



Most of the woodcock when flushed flew southward; 

 they were all fine, large, strong, fat birds, with beautiful 

 plumage. These buds had evidently been well peppered 

 early in the season where they came from. Several of 

 the ones I bagged had a short leg, well mended and 

 strong. Henry B. Nicol, M.D. 



Cookstown, Ont. 



Massachusetts Quail.— Taunton, Mass., July 29. — I 

 drove from this city to Myricks, eight miles, on July 22, 

 and. saw in the road five different flocks of quail. They 

 were about two-thirds grown. Partridges are very thick, 

 and many farmers say that "they wintered well and are 

 very thick just outside." Which is very welcome news 

 to sportsmen in this State.— S. C. H. 



Aooomac County.— Painters, Ya., July 29.— Your 

 friends may be nicking their flints for fine quail shooting 

 on the eastern shore of Virginia this fall and winter. The 

 crop never promised better. All mated off prettily. 

 Rains not so excessive as to drown the broods, while all 

 around you in early morning the familiar old Bob White 

 resonates the very atmosphere. — T. G. 



Dutchess County Woodcock Law. — We are advised 

 by Mr. Peter B. Hayt, of Poughkeepsie, secretary 

 of the Dutchess County (N. Y.) Association for the Pro- 

 tection of Game and Fish, that the woodcock season in that 

 county now opens July 1. 



m und ^iter fishing. 



Angling Talks, By George Dawson. Price 50 cents. Fly- 

 Rods and Fly-Tackle. By H. P. Wells. Price $2.50. Fly- 

 Fishing and' Fly-Making for Trout. By J. H. Keene. 

 Price 81.50. American Angler's Book. By Thad. Norris, 

 Price $5.50. 



SALMON IN THE HUDSON. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I have just received a letter from Mr. A. C. Johnson, 

 of Mechanicville, N. Y., from which I extract the fol- 

 lowing very gratifying information regarding the salmon 

 in the Hudson: 



"I write you because I know from reading Forest and 

 Stream that you are interested in fish protection. The 

 facts are these: Quite a number of salmon have appeared 

 at this place for the first time this summer. The water is 

 very low and any one can see them below the dam. As 

 the boys cannot catch them they wish to spear or shoot 

 them. The salmon cannot get over the dam, and so 

 swim around just below it in plain sight, and as they are 

 very large it is quite a temptation. One was found dead 

 last week which weighed 12ilbs. I saw five at once yester- 

 day. I hope you can do something to have them protected. 

 A fishway is needed in the dam. I will help you in any 

 way you suggest. I have no desire to kill the salmon 

 unlawfully and do not intend that any one else shall." 



It is possible that these fish came over the Troy dam 

 during the high water, but it is more probable they found 

 then way through what I believe is called the old sloop 

 lock and which I also believe is now rarely used. This lock 

 was for the purpose of locking around the Troy dam. 

 However the salmon got to the foot of the Mechanicville 

 dam, it is encouraging to know that they are above tide 

 water in fair numbers. The fish are still a long way 

 from where they were planted and from proper spawning 

 grounds; but the need of fishway s is made more apparent 

 and the success of the U. S. Fish Commission in its 

 attemps to stock the Hudson is more pronounced. The 

 Mechanicville dam is the first dam north of Troy, a 

 distance of twelve miles. A. N. Cheney. 



Glens Falls, N. Y., July 24, 



A MORNING ON THE STREAM. 



AS we came out of the barn yard gate, the birds were 

 in full blast. May be their throats had been closed so 

 long — through the overcast sky and cold mist of the pre- 

 vious week — that they now were prepared to make up 

 for lost time. We were not surprised then that the first 

 thing, by the meadow near the bars, a bobolink should 

 get up, and as he flitted away, east a side-long glance at 

 us and sing, "Going, going a fishing, a fishing; good, 

 luck, good lack: pleasan t day, pleasant day;" nor that a 

 bluebird should warble to his mate from a fence stake 

 near by as we went along, "Jolly, jolly day;" nor that a 

 great crested flycatcher, in bis harsh note, should call 

 from a dead limb by the bridge, "See here! see here!" 



But really we were in too great a hurry to pay much 

 attention to these things just now. We were not study- 

 ing birds at this time, and knew that the higher the sun 

 got and the lower the stream, the smaller our chances. 

 Here we can begin by casting a fly. Try below the. 

 bridge first. We try. No use, no sign of fish. "Is the 

 stream too high?" we ask ourselves. On we go— still a 

 chance for a fly among the trees — but no fish. "We al- 

 ways caught one here," we say as we come to a deep 

 hole. "Have we mistaken the day?" At length we 

 reach the last place before entering the alders and not 

 one fish in the basket. We do not recollect such a thing- 

 be fore. 



But now we must resort to the bait, and here com- 

 mence our tribulations! We are changing our fly for a 

 No. 4 hook (we never use a smaller size), and while we 

 are doing this — a solitary wood thrush that has not sung 

 himself out — commences his song just inside the edge of 

 the alders. We have to cross a little slough to get to 

 where he is. We cannot hear the whole of his refrain. 

 Our ear only catches the louder notes and the sweet little 

 trills at the end of each bar are lost in the distance. But 

 we understand his song. It is this: " Come along — stead- 

 e-lee; they lie deep — we-re-lee; here they are, see-e-see. 



But now we are ready and the first cast brings us a 

 nice fish that is landed down among brush and twigs 

 that switch our face and scratch oar hands. However, 

 had it not been for this fish perhaps, we would hardly 

 have had coinage to go further. We make a second 

 and third trial here — but no more fish reward us. 



And now the slough has to be passed. The old moss- 

 covered log that serves as a pathway through it is slippery 

 with last night's rain, while the water that backs up from 

 the stream comes nearly to the top of this treacherous 

 way. A misstep here would signify over our boot tops in 

 the black muck. The rod is pushed forward with the line 

 drawn down it and the baited hook in our hand. We 

 have passed over this worst part, guiding our rod and our 

 steps at the same time, when just at the end of the log a 

 stiff branch pushes us off and we sink nearly knee deep 

 in the mud. We make two hurried steps, and now the 

 reel catches, and when we give it a jerk out goes our 

 line. This is untangled and drawn in, and at last we are 

 standing just below the place where we caught our first 

 fish. There was a deep pool in front of us and the water 

 is bubbling up under some logs and brush that have formed 

 a "jam" across the stream. The branches of the birch 

 tree at our side are not more than ten feet above the water, 

 and there is an opening of a few yards just below where 

 we stand. We draw in the line almost up to where the 

 leader is fastened on, and with a good deal of maneuver- 

 ing drop the bait in. The moment it touches the water it 

 is seized by a fine fish, and we strike at once. But we do 

 not observe a small branch that extends out from a larger 

 one directly over the end of our rod. This slackens the 

 line, and in a moment he is gone, while we have to spend 

 some minutes in getting our fine free. When this is done 

 we try again, but with no success. We now stoop down 

 and work our bait up the stream. We have seen a fish 

 jump just above us. He takes the bait at once, is hooked, 

 and we think we have him. We are reaching out our 

 hand to pull him in; but no, a limb interferes, and he 

 drops back into the stream. 



There is great difficulty in getting the bait in our hand 

 now so as to proceed. The butt of the rod has to be 

 pushed into the bushes and the line winds around every- 

 thing before we have it secured. However, it is done at 

 last,"and again we are pushing our way along. Now the 

 reel catches (it is on the extreme end of the rod) and the 

 line is pulled out. Now our hat is off and something has 

 pulled the line so that the hook pricks the hand, We 

 learn how sharp it is and that the point is not covered. 

 A branch draws itself across our mouth and something 

 has caught the basket. And there, just see that lovely 

 pool that we wanted to approach so quietly. But by 

 patience and care at last we axe freed. We draw back 

 an alder and push aside a limb, and the hook is where we 

 want it. It hardly touches the water again here before 

 there is just a little swirl, a turn of the wrist and the fish 

 is hooked. Cannot say anything about his size yet, but 

 we know that he is as large as w r e can manage in this 

 tangle. We reel in, part the branches, and lift out a 

 half-pounder. Another one of half the size rewards us in 

 this place. As we turn from here and are saying to our- 

 selves, "We guess that thrush was right— "Come along, 

 they lie deep, here they are"— we are just thinking this 

 to ourselves when, as we turn, our foot goes into a hole 

 by the root of a tree. Down it goes into the water below, 

 and as we drop the rod for fear of breaking it, we are 

 conscious of a smarting sensation on the shin. When the 

 foot is drawn out we find that a large stone by the side of 

 the hole, and covered with moss, has hit our leg as we 

 fell forward and made quite a rent in the top of our boot. 



The rod is picked up (it is uninjured), the line disen- 

 tangled, and hat, coat and basket are adjusted. We see 

 the gleam of another pool ahead. It looks encouraging. 

 To this we worm and wedge our way. There is a better 

 chance here to secure our fish if we can hook them. Here 

 we take two more nice ones. But, oh, what a tangle is 

 before us now! How shall we get through it? The reel 

 bothers us again, and a branch or something is pulling at 

 the strap of our fishing basket, and we cannot step over a 

 fallen tree that is before us. This is the worst plight that 

 ever we were in. However, the difficulty is mastered. 

 There is no use in getting mad. It makes us hot, though, 

 and we feel that stub or brier has hurt our knee. Before 

 long we are ready for another cast. 



This time Ave 'have a large boulder to fish from. It 

 stands right by the edge of the stream and gives a fellow 

 a chance to cast below it. We can look a little way up 

 and down the stream from here and see the alders over- 

 lapping the water. Here two more are taken. We won't 



say anything about the line winding around a twig on 

 the other side of the brook and how long it took to disen- 

 tangle it, with the stm in our eyes and two dozen black 

 flies assailing oar nose and ears. You will have to imag- 

 ine all this. It is beyond description. Then we have an- 

 other fall, and this with all our care. We hear a crash, 

 and see a man's feet and hands as he gets up. We did 

 not see his face, but saw him rub his shoulder, and we 

 heard him say, "Oh, yoa nasty branch!" 



But here we come to a good place. We are getting out 

 of the alders now and there is more room and better 

 walking, though the walking is bad enough. Yes, try 

 this hole, stand back by the tree and let the line down 

 near the bank. It is clone and in an instant we have a 

 fish. He is determined to go under the bank and we are 

 just as determined he shall not. He is 11 in. long, another 

 one of lOin. was also taken here. Now we have quite a 

 l ittle walk before wha t we consider a good place is found. 

 It is where the stream comes together after it has been 

 parted for twenty yards or so. It runs deep under the 

 alders that reach out from the other side and hush the 

 cm-rent. Of course we have to go through the usual 

 tangling and catching of line before we are ready to 

 throw in. We are used to that now. We have not lost 

 a hook nor a leader yet and the tip of our rods is safe 

 so far. There is no hurry. All day is before us. This 

 is our consolation. A partridge flies up as we are pre- 

 paring here and while we are looking to see where the 

 line is caught a black and white creeper comes into view. 

 Indeed there have been plenty of these and several mi- 

 grants around us all the morning, but we are after trout, 

 and now for another trial. 



We select a position pretty well up stream and toss our 

 bait down, keeping it as usnal on top of the water and 

 pulling it as we woidd a fly, toward us. It has been 

 drawn, say, three feet, when we see a swirl around it, 

 and the next moment the fish is hooked. He was a good 

 one too, and determined to take rod, line, and even our- 

 selves, it would seem, under the alders. The question is 

 whether the line will bear such a strain. But the struggle 

 does not last long. Poor fellow, it is hard for a fish to 

 stand that pull upon his jaw. He soon yields. Gradually 

 he comes up and is lifted out among the underbrush. 

 This is the finest one we have caught, 12in. long. Below 

 this we take three more, two of lOjin. and one of ll^in. 



It is nearly noon now, and as we promised to be home 

 at 12:30, here ends our morning's work. We are through 

 the alders. As we. come out at their lower edge a wood- 

 cock rises in front of us. The sun is shining in unclouded 

 splendor and we do not feel unhappy. Our catch weighed 

 5|lbs. , and when the bruises and scratches get well, we 

 will think that "the last time" was as good a time as we 

 have ever had. Stillaboy. 



MIRAM1CHI SALMON. 



Editor Foi est and Stream: 



Allow me through your valuable paper to give a brief 

 account of a trip to the Miramichi River. I left New 

 York June 23, and at Newcastle, N. B., I met two of my 

 fishing friends. Two days were spent there visiting and 

 sight seeing. I have done much traveling on this con- 

 tinent and in Europe, but never have received such hospi- 

 tality as I experienced at Newcastle. Camp Adams was 

 our objective point, situated seventy-five mfles by water 

 from the mouth of the Miramichi, called the north- 

 western branch, or thirty-nine miles by buckboard 

 through the woods, which route we preferred. We 

 started for our destination on June 2(5, 6 o'clock A. M. 

 Twenty miles of our journey were over a first-class 

 macadamized road, the balance was decidedly rough; 

 but our long ride was not without pleasure, as the 

 weather was delightfully cool, coupled with the grand 

 forest scenery, which we all enjoyed very much. We 

 caught sight of Camp Adams at 4 o'clock P. M., a pretty 

 Gothic cottage, painted white, with red trimmings. The 

 kitchen, 15 feet from the house, is a log cabin with every 

 appliance for cooking, the great feature being the stove, 

 one of the best ever made for camp life, called " the 

 Forest Beauty." After looking around , we came to the 

 conclusion that Mr. Adams had made a most judicious 

 selection in placing his lodge in such a romantic and 

 lovely spot. Within a radius of half a mile there are 

 five pools, perhaps the finest in Canada. 



The total catch during thirteen days for all hands, were 

 forty-six salmon, four grilse and seventy trout, the weight 

 of last named 180 pounds There are many flies used 

 here, but the most popular are the Jock-Scot, Durham- 

 ranger and silver-doctor. The scenery is grand in the 

 extreme. A veranda around the house enables one to 

 take in many views of the surroundings, which are really 

 picturesque. Natural springs of excellent water are iii 

 abundance. The air is exceedingly light and bracing, 

 and after a few days one's appetite becomes ravenous, 

 and is met by a well stocked larder. 



Our pasty was a jolly one, Hon. M. Adams, a large- 

 hearted and generous man, superintending everything to 

 its most minute detail. Mr. Tom Adams, of New York, 

 a highly cultured gentleman, did much to interest us by 

 his excellent readings. Jack Ferguson, better known in 

 camp as the Refugee, a remarkably keen fisherman, he 

 can be found on the river at all hours of the day and 

 night. Bob Armstrong, called by his friends the Irish 

 Songster, did much to enliven the time; he has a sweet 

 tenor voice, and does full justice to his large selection of 

 favorite ballads; and last, but not least, our faithful 

 guides, three in number, also our cook, all natives of the 

 forest, men of splendid physique, honest and obliging to 

 a fault. July 3 we bid the dear old camp farewell, ar- 

 riving in New York Friday the 6th, with twelve smoked 

 salmon and one on ice. 



Since my return I have received a letter from Mr. 

 Adams, under date of July 17, in which he says: " Mrs. 

 Adams and myself returned from the Camp on Saturday 

 night, after spending eight days, and succeeded in doing 

 good work. We made the record of the Camp for twenty- 

 three days' fishing, sixty-one salmon, eighty-three grilse 

 and seventy-five trout — not a bad season's fishing." 



John R. Frasek. 

 New York. 



Touiusts seeking vest and recreation during the hot summer 

 months can ohtain valuable infoi mation from the illustrated guide 

 books entitled "A Summer Jaunt" and "Summer of 1888" issued by 

 the Wisconsin Central Line. These books are descriptive of the sum- 

 mer resorts in Wisconsin and .Minnesota, reached by the Wisconsin 

 Central Line, and will be sent free to any address upon applica- 

 tion to Jamks Barker, General Passenger and Ticket Agent. 

 Milwaukee, Wis.— Adv. 



