las 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 6, 1890. 



ON THE NORTH SHORE.-VI. 



A THREE WEEKS' TROUTING TRIP ON THE NORTH SHORE 

 OF LAKE SUPERIOR. 



IT would be impossible to record for want of space all 

 the little incidents that happened in camp, as they 

 came with the swiftness of fairies thronging a moonlight 

 glade. There is one in particular that is fresh in memory 

 and which is too humorous to ignore. I will relate it. 

 We had in our outfit laid in several delicacies in canned 

 goods for our own especial use, and which fact we tried 

 to impress upon our boatmen, but they would not take it 

 that way. Every time we opened one of these special 

 cans and" used therefrom we gave it into their keeping to 

 reseiwe for us, but it disappeared as absolutely as if it 

 had been swallowed by an earthquake. An inquiry as 

 to the cause resulted in the statement that they had eaten 

 it, fearing it might spoil. This went on for some time, 

 until an almost entire can of very choice pears had sud- 

 denly disappeared. Ned and I both got red hot over this 

 last disappearance, and lit into the sweet toothed half- 

 breeds with a vengeance. Joe fired up a little and said 

 he never went with gentlemen who did not share equally 

 everything they had. 

 "Haven't we given you apples'?" said Ned. 

 "And onions?'' said I. 

 "And apricots?" said Ned. 

 "And ham?" said I. 

 "And eggs?" said Ned. 

 "And crackers?" said I. 

 "And bread?" said Ned. 

 "And potatoes?" said I. 

 "And toast?" said Ned. 

 "And feasted your friends?" said I. 

 "And sent you to church?" said Ned. 

 "And you want half our champagne?" said I. 

 "And half our whisky?" said Ned. 

 "And haven't you grown fat?" said I. 

 "And lazy?" said Ned. 

 "Do you take us for tenderfeet?" said I. 

 "Or for bleating lambs?" said Ned. 

 And so on for quality we continued until poor Joe and 

 quiet Peter felt completely overwhelmed, and slunk into 

 their tent deeply abashed. Joe threw himself on his 

 blanket and tried to sleep his confusion and indignation 

 away, while Peter took out his knife and securing a stick 

 whittled with bowed head and pouted like a child of 

 tender years. Joe stuck to his quilt for fully two hours, 

 while Peter, tired of whittling, came out of the tent, 

 knife and stick in hand, and promenaded down the sandy 

 beach. It was evidently a bad case of sulks. We con- 

 cluded, as a relief to their overburdened spirits, to further 

 pursue our piscatorial pleasures, and so called them to 

 get the boat ready. They very leisurely came forth and 

 as leisurely proceeded to get everything ready, and about 

 as leisurely pulled us over the crested waves. Not a word 

 all this time had been spoken by the pouting twain. 

 They were dead to everything but their inward emotions, 

 winch were a perfect mispry to them. Soon arriving 

 where the fontinalis lie in cover we began casting, but 

 not before we had gone at least half a mile did we receive 

 a single rise, and that one was missed, much to my dis- 

 comfiture and the entire satisfaction of the churlish boat- 

 men, who were doubtless praying that some disaster 

 might overtake us as a revenge for the veto we had 

 placed upon their rapacious raid on our choice delicacies. 

 Ned had now, since he had lost his monstrosity of a bug, 

 a fly, or whatever it was, taken high rank again as an 

 artist of the angle. He was whipping the waters with 

 unexampled skill and a patience only belonging to those 

 who are genuine disciples of the guild. Every throw 

 that went out from the gentle manipulations of his wrist 

 sent his fly circling through the air with a grace and 

 surety that delivered them on the gentle ripples with a 

 lightness akin to the falling of fleecy down. I could not 

 but admire his perfect skill, and would frequently cease 

 casting to watch his feathery lures as he sent them on 

 their mission, like a thing of life, in search of a golden 

 fin. In one of these admiring moments, and just as his 

 fly had gently kissed the water, I saw a rainbow-arch of 

 light sweep down on his glittering fly, and with the sud- 

 den splash that followed there came the music of the 

 whirring: reel that to the heart of the angler is ever dear. 

 I sat and watched the white-haired sportsman enjoy his 

 heaven of happiness as he fought the ferocity of that 

 maddened trout. He met him at every dangerous dash 

 with a deftness and patience that practice alone can give, 

 and finally conquered the monarch of the fresh waters 

 after a ten minutes' struggle, in which he displayed the 

 very perfection of angling tactics. 



"Bravo! Bravo!! Bravo!!! Well done, Ned, you are en- 

 titled to the hor — laurels. A more skillful battle with 

 the enameled beauty I never before witnessed." I ex- 

 claimed after he had successfully landed him. 



"Oh, I had my fighting jacket on then. But ain't he 

 a Jim dandy?" 



"He is lovely indeed; a poem of beauty in silver and 

 gold." 



"Let's have his avoirdupois." 



"Here's the scales, hang his quivering jaw to that." 

 "Just four and three-quarter pounds." 

 "Good enough!" 



And now I turned to the waters and endeavored to im- 

 itate the victorious Ned. The bottom of the lake dis- 

 closed magnificent cover for the fish. Huge boulders, 

 shelving rocks and deep crevices, admirable lairs for the 

 coveted trout, were on every side. I was confident of 

 soon hanging a beauty, and on my third cast my antici- 

 pations were fully realized, for a savage splash came and 

 met with the usual response, and a crimson darling was 

 in consequence frantically rumiing around with the lure 

 firmly secured in his toughened jaw. He was not so 

 large as Ned's, but he gave me a very enjoyable play. 

 He weighed three pounds, and was fit to take rank in 

 spotted loveliness and symmetry with Ned's monarch. 

 Ned at this time, wishing to indulge in the luxury of the 

 weed, handed his rod to Joe, that he might try his skill 

 in coaxing the fish to the feathery and tinseled counterfeit. 

 He was very fond of fishing, and went at it with an 

 earnest will, sending his flies with a flutter in all direc- 

 tions and with masterly grace. This act of Ned's proved 

 a panacea for the sulks, as the emotional boatman soon 

 gave full play to hie tongue in his native dialect. Peter 

 also recovered from the silent disease, and good fellow- 

 ship once more seemed firmly established in our quartette. 

 Joe caught one three-pounder, and I followed suit with 

 another a shade smaller, and then we started on tiie 



home stretch, now and then making a cast as we went 

 along the serrated shore. Ere we reached camp we 

 realized in full force the glowing beauties of a northern 

 sunset. The water had quieted till there was only a 

 gentle ripple, and the dipping sun clothed the murmur- 

 ing surface with a bright crimson which deepened as the 

 evening advanced, glowing with more intense fire and 

 holding a broad band of what seemed solid color, which 

 mirrored itself on the far away clouds in the bright red 

 of the furnace and the pale red of the shell, grandly and 

 gorgeously as ever clouds were painted under any sky. 

 Such colors were never seen on a painter's canvas, and 

 were never counterfeited in silk or satin by the most 

 skillful weavers of the eastern looms. 



After we had taken our vesperian meal, we noticed 

 that the boatmen cleared everything from the table but 

 the can of California pears, which we had ordered opened 

 for that meal. This delicacy was that which had eaused 

 the little revolution in our camp, and the rebellious boat- 

 men still had bitter recollections of it. They had con- 

 cluded to let us take care of the remainder of the forbid- 

 den fruit, and therefore left it to our protection. I 

 insisted on calling them back and have them remove and 

 care for the unfinished can, and if they refused to break 

 earap at once and start for the "Soo." I was quite pro- 

 voked at such contemptible trifling, and felt like fighting 

 it out. Ned said "No," and advised putting the can in a 

 crotch of a tree immediately in front of our tent. He 

 thought it would defeat their provoking intentions if we 

 gave the matter no attention. 1 was" willing to try it, 

 but determined that a repetition would open a strong re- 

 volt on my part at least. 



Shortly after we retired Ned gave me the unpleasant 

 information that something was crawling on one of his legs 



"It may be one of those little green snakes, Ned." 



"No, it ain't large enough for one." 



"Probably a horny bug," and then I smiled at the idea 

 of once more reminding him of his last monstrosity. 



"Ha ha ! good, but the what-is-it is still crawling." 



"Smash him with that Cinderella hoof of yours." 



And then there was an upward movement of his 

 blanket, and a sound immediately afterward akin to a 

 lover's smothered kiss. 



"Did you bring him ?" 



"I hit him, but he is kicking and clawing furiously." 

 "Give him one more," 



Again the blanket moved and the smothered sound 

 again heard. 



"How is it now." 



"All quiet on the Potomac. He is ready for burial." 

 "Good night." 

 "Good night." 



An early breakfast was had and start made for Grind- 

 stone Point for an hour or two's tender dalliance with the 

 trout beautiful. The courtship of the finny tribe that 

 morning was eminently successful, as we enticed eight 

 of these lovely Naiads of the glittering dots to the ban- 

 quet of the flies deceitful, and rejoiced exceedingly 

 thereon. It was a morn of glorious sport, and to recite 

 all the exciting events that occurred avouM take more 

 time than we are inclined to give, as we have drawn this 

 trouting trip to a length that, I fear, is already wearying 

 to the gentle reader. As a matter of record, I will simply 

 state that in weight the trout ran from 2=} to 441bs. Of 

 course they were all of that dappled beauty upon which 

 the devotee of the rod ever gazes with wild delight. 

 These trout were carefully placed on strings and then 

 anchored in the lake, as we were desirous of keeping 

 them alive in order to take with us on our return, 



We fished an hour in the afternoon, but the indications 

 of a storm, we thought, caused the trout to be indifferent 

 to the fly. The romance of the forest and lake is begin- 

 ning to fade and the charm of home cirle and civilization 

 is fast growing upon us. A crow as black as any crow 

 could be, and that is inky black, was seen parading on 

 our return to camp on the sandy beach that extended for 

 a few rods from our quarters. He doubtless had an eye 

 for something edible that the tossing waves might bring 

 him, and was not amiss to the toothsome things we had 

 in store. A rabbit had the evening previous made a visit 

 to the boatmen's tent, he also being bent on the same 

 mission as the parading crow. He ambled away quite 

 rapidly when the boys caught sight of him. This set 

 them to making the spring-loop trap, in which poor bun- 

 nie would be swung to an untimely death if ever he 

 entered within that dangerous circle of the loop. No 

 rabbit, however, fell a victim to the trap. 



Early the next morning we were again greeted with 

 the sight of the crow on the sandy beach. He was 

 pompously strutting about with his eyes bent upon our 

 camp. He was doubtless the outpost of some colony of 

 these thievish birds, who were in concealment in the 

 rear, only awaiting the signal of our departure for a 

 general raid into our deserted quarters for the debris of 

 food that might perchance be strewn around. The 

 weather becoming too unpropitious for the angle, we got 

 down to our favorite game of crib, I evened up in a 

 short time the score in which I had been sadly in arrears. 

 I made a discovery at this sitting that there were two 

 pins in the cribbage board that were loose and that the 

 slightest jar caused them to fall in their sockets. The 

 board, I will explain, was one of those "pull-up" boards, 

 in which a sliding pin is in each hole. When you 

 register the points of each hand you pull up a front pin, 

 always keeping the pin behind it which registered the 

 last count in position, so as to always have your last 

 score on the board, while the others which may happen 

 to be up are considered "dead wood" and are pushed 

 down after the front peg is pulled up. Well, I accident- 

 ally saw one of these pins, which Ned always turned to 

 my side, fall through a jar Ned made in slapping his card 

 down. Like a flash of lightning the truth dawned on 

 me that Ned had been having a little quiet fun in taking 

 advantage of this, as I frequently found my head pin 

 down and was at a loss to know where my correct count 

 was and was not absolutely sure that I had pulled it up 

 at all. He would never permit me to take any points in 

 advance of the pin remaining. When I saw that pin fall 

 I q uickly turned to him and said : 



r 'You arrant rogue; you ought to be sent to the Dry 

 Tortugas for such a base swindle." 



At this he looked as if he would be seized with cerebral 

 paralysis, but he was only holding back a regular ava- 

 lanche of laughter that finally came bursting forth. After 

 his mirthful flow had subsided 1 wanted to know how 

 manv games he had thus defrauded me of. He answered: 



"Only five/' 



"Then I will take ten." 

 "What for?" 



"On the principle of confession, that only half has been 

 told." 



"Then I am an Ananias, am I?" 

 "Not only that, but a Barabbas." 



An examination as to the total score of games was now 

 made, and the exhibit showed that with the last ten I had 

 justly strangled out of Ned, I was just that many abend. 

 Ned never got through laughing over ihe trick of the 

 falling pins, and said it was a kind of offset to the fun I 

 had gotten out of his pet creation, "the horny-headed 

 ibis." He has told that trick a thousand times since his 

 return, but what can you expectfrom one that has caught 

 trout in the "Ould Country" by the tickling trick. 



About 10 o'clock that morning a heavy storm accom- 

 panied with terrific thunder and lurid lightning set in. 

 wdiich was soon followed by a hpavy downpour from the 

 regions of Jupiter Pluvius. This necessitated careful 

 protection to our provisions, beds, blankets, etc. The boat- 

 men took good care of the commissary stores, while we 

 were gathering the bedding and placed it in the cen- 

 ter of the tent, over which was thrown an oil cloth. The 

 tent was fairly protected by a "fly," which covered 

 it with the exception of about a foot at each end, yet not- 

 withstanding all this precaution little rills would course 

 along the sides and occasionally a drop or two would trickle 

 down your neck, and when you looked to see from whence 

 it came you would catch it in the eye, and then bob down 

 to escape the cold drops. A^ the wag said, it was a very- 

 wet ram, and it began to get wetter very fast. Soon we 

 had to close the door of the tent, as the wind had veered 

 around and was taking our front door by storm. There 

 maybe something very cheerful about this free life in 

 the forest, but it never strikes you that way on a rainy 

 day. Ned, who was always a nightingale under bright 

 skies, had entirely lost his melody in the present flood of 

 affairs. He sat with a bowed head and heavy heart in 

 the dark and musty surroundings, and only moved when 

 the rain drops were inclined to give him a shower bath. 

 He finally got interested in 6ome questionable mathe- 

 matics about the warring elements, and as a result of the 

 solution of the problems, stated that the present rainfall 

 amounted to about an inch an hour, and it would con- 

 tinue for three days or more. He was Badly at variance 

 with solid facts, for in about three hours the rain entirely 

 ceased, and then the dark clouds, like a hulk from the 

 recent battle, floated swiftly away , 



"And Phoebus, fresli as bridegroom to his mate, 

 Came dancing forth, shakiDg his dewy hair, 

 And hurled his glist'ning beams through glooinr air." 



The odor from the balsam, the pine and the spruce em- 

 balmed the air like the perfume of wild flowers, while 

 the freshness and the beauty now dominant lifted our 

 hearts from the abyss of despair to that of overflowing 

 joy. Ned caught the splendor of the surroundings at 

 oncp, and sent his delicious notes echoing o'er water, 

 along shore and in the freshened wood. Being anxious 

 about the condition of the anchored fish, we took the boat 

 and went on a tour of inspection. We found six of them 

 about to start for another world, so we brought them all 

 ashore and had them cleaned and salted, and then care- 

 fully put in a box amid cooling grasses, 

 Cincinnati, Ohio. Alex , Starbuck. 



ANGLING NOTES. 



WE think it is generally understood that pompano 

 are rarely taken on a hook and line, but Col. 

 Babbett, a well-known Florida angler, tells us that he 

 has enjoyed magnificent sport with the dainty fish, and 

 gives the following directions for their capture: The 

 proper rod for pompano fishing is a medium weight bait- 

 rod, such as one would u r e for black bass. The reel 

 should be large enough to contain at least 50yds. of No. 9 

 Cuttyhunk line, and a No. 4 Sproat should be fastened 

 directly to the line. The best bait is the small crab found 

 in the oyster, or a small bit of white crab meat not larger 

 than a good-sized pea. Anchor at the ground where 

 these fish are found and let the bait rest on the bottom, 

 a very small sinker may be used. Above all things, the 

 Colonel says, keep perfectly quiet, do not move about in 

 the boat or make any noise or disturbance, as these fish 

 are exceedingly shy and timid. When hooked they 

 afford glorious sport and fight like tigers. The most 

 careful angler will not be able to save over three out of 

 five fish hooked, as they have very tender mouths. 

 Sometimes they appear in great numbers on the surface, 

 skimming over the water in every direction. When they 

 are in this mood they will not take the bait, but when in 

 the humor they take hold rapidly*, 



At the time of writing these notes, Feb. 28, the peep- 

 ers are giving their evening concerts in the marshes, the 

 blackbirds are flying around the salt meadows in large 

 flocks, and the frost is entirely out of the ground. And 

 there is no doubt if the season opened for trout fishing on 

 March 1, as it used to, the trout would rise well to the fly. 

 Yet there is no telling what the weather bureau may have 

 in store for us between now and the first of April. It is 

 only a few years ago that the writer of these lines was 

 out snowshoeing on the first of April, and the memory of 

 the great March blizzard is still fresh in our minds. 



In old times March 1, then the opening day of the. trout 

 season, was a great day on Long Island. Every place 

 where trout could be caught, from Jim Smith's to Patch- 

 ogue, had its full complement of guests, and a jolly 

 crowd they were. There was little sleep to be had the 

 night before the opening. The most famous of these 

 places were Massapequa Pond, Carman's, Liff Snedecor's, 

 Green's Creek at Sayville, Fireplace and Stump Pond. 

 Now all is changed, and there are no free waters worth 

 mentioning. All the ponds and streams are controlled 

 by clubs and private individuals: the very few that are 

 public have been fished and poached to death. There 

 were many days when the season was open in March that 

 the angler found his line frozen like a wire and fly-fishing 

 was uphill work. The wind would blow cold over the 

 salt meadows, rattling the dry bullrushes and causing the 

 angler's teeth to chatter an accompaniment. It used to 

 be whispered that instead of fishing, anglers would seek 

 the comforts of the tavern and before an open fire indulge 

 in hot Scotch and games of poker, and other wicked de- 

 vices of the Evil One; but these were undoubtedly base 

 slanders, circulated by curious matter-of-fact people who 

 do not appreciate angling. 



