July 10, 1890.] 



FOREST AND STREAM 



493 



like most sportsmen, would have you believe that his dog' 

 and Mb gun were the best in tbe world of their kind. 

 We occasionally took a turn in the woods together for 

 deer, seldom missed to start a big buck within a mile of 

 where I am now writing. Toot would give chase, and in 

 twenty minutes time would cease barking and come back 

 to us. This had often occurred, when Goodsell would 

 declare that the deer bad taken to the water (Lake Erie) 

 some six miles away. I did not believe a word of it. 

 One morning, as usual, we started the big buck and Toot 

 went off bellowing on the track. In less than twenty 

 minutes he ceased bis barking. "Taken to water again," 

 said Goodsell, when all at ouce we heard a crashing in 

 the underbrush, and next Toot hove in sight, his tail 

 between his legs, closely followed by the big buck, every 

 hair on his neck and back in reverse order, plunging with 

 his fore feet, and the dog dodging to avoid the sharp 

 hoofs of the deer. When he was within twenty feet of 

 us Goodsell blazed away with one barrel and made a hole 

 clean through the deer as big as your foot. This was the 

 only deer I ever knew him to shoot. He still extolled the 

 virtues of Toot, declaring that it was not every dog that, 

 when failing to hold his game at bay, could escort his 

 quarry into camp. E. D. POTTER. 



CHINESE PHEASANTS. 



MACOMB, 111, July 1.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 I send you the photo of a Chinese pheasant, which 

 was killed in Sinn county, Oregon, and sent to me. These 

 pheasants are natives of China; and eight years ago 

 eleven of them were imported from China to Sinn county, 

 Oregon, and turned loose. It is now estimated that from 

 these there are now a million in the State. They lay 

 twelve eggs at a sitting, and sit three times a year. They 

 wean their young when ten days old, and go to laying 

 again. They are not quite as large as a prairie chicken, 

 but much more a game bird and finer eating. They lay 

 and sit in the grass and wheatfields; and will stand for a 

 dog. They are very shy and will fly very fast and run 

 almost as fast as a dog. The male has a green head with 

 a white ring around the neck, the breast is a maroon, 

 and the back is speckled like a prairie chicken. Then- 

 tail is about eighteen inches long and runs to a point like 

 a wild pigeon. They gather together in the fall in large 

 flocks, and will eat wheat, corn, or most anything that a 

 barn fowl will eat. I think they will do well all through 

 the west and south and as far east as Pennsylvania. I 

 sent to Sinn county last fall and got a pair and turned 

 them loose on Mr. Rexroat's farm, near Pennington's 

 Point, McDonough county, Illinois. They have been seen 

 together frequently until about four weeks ago, since 

 then the female has not been seen and probably she is 

 nesting. Should these birds do well in this State and 

 accumulate as fast as they have in Oregon, it will carry 

 joy to the hearts of sportsmen. W. O. Blaisdell. 



Pennsylvania Game.— Goshen, N. Y,, July 2. — I am 

 just in from a three weeks' outing in the wilds of 

 Pennsylvania over in Pike. I had some very fine sport 

 with the pickerel and took a few bass, but the bass are 

 not hungry or did not like my style of casting. I saw a 

 fine pair of deer and some bear tracks, and I think one 

 night the wildcats had a wake by the racket they made. 

 I had my spaniel, Hornell Sport, with me and he did not 

 like their music a bit, he crept close to my side. This 

 fall I expect to go back again for something larger than 

 fish. — A. V. 



Harkisburg, Pa., July 1.— The annual meeting of the 

 Red House Gunning and Fishing Club was held to-night, 

 at the club room in the Gross House, when the following 

 officers were unanimously elected: President, Fred. W. 

 Ebel; Secretary, John C. Balsley; Treasurer. H. S. Rein- 

 hold ; Executive Committee, Dr. T. S. Hollinshead, 

 Richard Jones and N. Russ. The club at present has 30 

 members and is in a flourishing condition. 



m Htfd §ivqr fishing. 



FISHING NEAR NEW YORK. 

 "C'OR practical and specific directions to reach several hundred 

 - 1 - fishing: resorts within easy distance of New York city, see 

 issues of 1889 as follows: April 16, April 25, May 2, May 9, May 30. 

 June 6, June 13, June 20, June 27. 



SOME MASCALLONGE EXPERIENCE. 



IContinued from page U75.~\ 



WHEN I began fishing on Julia Lake, I took the ad- 

 vice of Charlie Burton and Hank Smith, who had 

 had good luck with the mascallonge years ago, and used 

 a "pike's tongue" on the spoon hook. The lower jaw of 

 a wall-eyed pike, from the anterior angle back to the 

 gills, affords a tough and pearly white bit of semi-cartila- 

 genous flesh, roughly triangular in form and perhaps a 

 couple of inches in length, which is rather a showy bait 

 in the water. The guides told me not to use this, as "a 

 'lunge might grab at that and miss the spoon." As I 

 thought this not in accord with the mouth and habits of 

 this fish, I for once disregarded this ex cathedra advice, 

 and fished all day with the "tongue" on the spoon. I 

 caught so many fish at first that Mac also cut a "tongue," 

 and believe we both used them nearly all day. All that 

 I could deduce was that I think one will catch a great 

 many more wall-eyed pike, and probably larger ones, if 

 he uses the "tongue," and will catch just as many mas- 

 callonge; but whether or not any more mascallonge than 

 on the plain spoon, I should not like to say. 



I have spoken of Lake Julia as a beautiful water. It is 

 more than that, and one could well go into raptures over 

 it if he were not so blindly intent on striking a mascal- 

 longe. It is surrounded on all sides by deep pine forest. 

 Its water is deep, even close in shore, and as clear as any 

 of these stained swamp waters can be. There is a fine 

 little island with a high rocky point, and this would make 

 a great camping spot. Just across from the island there 

 runs into the lake the coldest cold spring that ever de- 

 lighted the throat of a thirsty man. This little smile of 

 nature bubbles directly out from the cavern left by the 

 up torn roots of a great tree. The roots project out and 

 cover it, making the most beautiful little cold-storage 

 chamber in the world. Trickling thence through the 



heavy moss, this little diamond stream suffuses all the air 

 about with grateful coolness. At the close of each trip 

 around the lake, we cached our fish here in the cold moss, 

 and when at night we took them up — a glorious sight 

 they made as we uncovered them — they were stark cold 

 and stiff. It is a blessed little spring. 



Near at hand here some one has made a rough attempt 

 at building a "deer fence," to guide the running deer 

 down to a stand near the open runway. I should say 

 that the law against hounding is altogether disregarded 

 all through this country, summer, fall and winter. Bert, 

 our guide, told us that much, admitted having killed a 

 great many deer in summer, and declared his intention 

 of doing so in future whenever he had a chance. That 

 is not my idea of what a guide should be, and I wish the 

 boys up there would look at it differently. They will 

 miss the deer before long. At present there are a great 

 many deer in that country. The party saw four or five 

 over on Lone Stone, we saw four on Lake Julia that one 

 day. I saw one over on Whitefish the next day, and 

 Mrs. Russell saw one on Virgin Lake. One could kill a 

 deer any evening he chose in that country. They come 

 into the water to feed, and hang around until near morn- 

 ing. Mac and Bert nearly finished plans for a combined 

 mascallonge and deer trip next fall, Mac intending to 

 bring his family up to Russell's house, which is a very 

 good point indeed for a central camp. There is an un- 

 fished lake about a mile above Julia. Bert and Blodgett 

 also intend cutting a trail from Seven Mile over to But- 

 ternut this fall. That is good deer and new mascallonge 

 ground. Let me repeat, for those who want to go into 

 this region and have success, that the way to do is to pull 

 out from the bpaten track and "stand in" with men like 

 the above mentioned, who will get to good waters where 

 the tenderfeet are afraid to go. 



From the lower end of Lake Julia a half mile trail leads 

 over to Whitefish, and from Whitefish there is a "thor- 

 oughfare" to Virgin. From Whitefish also there is a 

 waterway, via Big Lake, Dog Lake, and I don't know 

 how many others, clear on around to where the road to 

 Three Lakes Station crosses the bridge (a great point for 

 pike fishing) between two large lakes of what they call 

 the "Main Chain." This is all in the Eagle waters. You 

 can go by boat all the way from Three Lakes to Russell's 

 house, where we were, but it is a journey of about forty 

 miles. The Mannegold party, of whom, I believe, I made 

 mention last week, came around that way. They had 

 some fish, and seemed to find little difference between 

 the various lakes. 



It seems that the South Side Gun Club, of Milwaukee, 

 of which Mr. Mannegold is an officer, contemplates es- 

 tablishing a "deer park," whatever that may mean, on 

 the country between Virgin and Julia, and Mr. Russell 

 acts as their purchasing agent. A few hundred acres 

 have already been purchased, we heard, but just at pres- 

 ent the club don't know just exactly what it does want 

 to do about it. It was intended to fence a large tract. 

 That might serve to keep the deer out of the park, I 

 don't believe it would keep them in. It seems to me that 

 if the gentlemen would spend that fence money in stop 

 ping illegal killing of deer in that region, they would 

 have far better shooting. The country is swampy, heav- 

 ily undergrown and very wild about these lakes. From 

 what has been hurriedly noted about the wonderful 

 waterways of the whole region, it may seen that this 

 would be thought a wonderful country, if it were not so 

 ridiculously easy of access. 



When we were stowing away our fish that night we 

 spoke of this, and concluding that we had about all the 

 fish we ought to have, we resolved to put in the next day 

 in running over to Whitefish Lake and seeing what more 

 we could of the country. 



All day long we noticed some loons flying about over 

 the lake, as indeed we saw them every day on any lake 

 where we happened to be. On this day, as we were run- 

 ning along the willows close in shore, we were surprised 

 to see a fine male loon slip gently out of the grass into the 

 water. We peered in, and there, about a foot above the 

 water and two or three yards from the shore, was a shal- 

 low nest with two big chocolate-colored eggs in it. The 

 eggs were about as big as goose eggs. Bert wanted to 

 take them, and spoke about killing the old loon and get- 

 ting the young birds on the next day. For, as we stood 

 peering at the nest, we heard a faint "cheep, cheep, 

 cheep," much like a little chicken, and saw the end of 

 one of the eggs already broken through by young Br'er 

 Loon. Is this a fortune that has fallen to many? If so, 

 we were thrice fortunate, for we found three loon's nests 

 on this trip, and I do not think that record is often 

 equalled. 



We were going down the " thoroughfare" that evening, 

 talking about luck as we went. Mac attributed all his 

 good luck to a pair of mis-mated striped stockings, which 

 his servant girl had rolled up together and put in his 

 valise. Now, when this happens by pure accident, it is 

 an infallible sign of good luck. Mac knew this, and 

 always kept that pair of stockings on the boat seat where 

 he could make fetish to them. On this evening, the mos- 

 quitoes being exceedingly bad, he had drawn these stock- 

 ings on over his hands and wrists. Thus attired, he 

 presented a unique and picturesque effect. We were just 

 turning a sharp bend of the creek, when we saw another 

 loon, a full plumaged female, slide out of the bushes and 

 into the water. "There's another nest!" cried Bert, and 

 we set out after the old bird. 



The water was so shallow that the loon could not dive 

 quite out of sight, and so narrow that she cou d not take 

 wing. Her attempts to get under were ludicrous in the 

 extreme, she simply standing on end and wildly waving 

 her paddles in the air. I suppose it is human nature to 

 shoot, and Bert fired a shot at her as she started down. 

 I do not think it struck her, for we could find not a drop 

 of blood on her nor a ruffled feather. She went on, in- 

 dustriously trying to dive, and Mac reached out and 

 caught her in his stockinged hands and brought her into 

 the boat. Now, has any one beat that record? Does any 

 one now doubt the efficacy of mis-mated stockings with 

 stripes on them? As for me, I don't want any sure 

 thing, and I am no gambler, but I will just say that if 

 any gentleman thinks he is a bad man at catching wild 

 loons alive, that I will back W. W. McFarland, of Austin, 

 Chicago suburb, against him for any sum from $1,000 up, 

 both men to wear stockings on their hands, Hurlmgham 

 rules to govern. This challenge is open to the world, 

 and Mr. McFarland now holds the loon belt as the un- 

 paralleled premier loon catcher. There is a good deal of 

 talk about Chicago's pretentions, but money talks, and I 



want it understood that Chicago is the only city of the 

 world that has an Auditorium, a World's Fair, and a 

 man that can catch live, wild loons with stockings on 

 his hands. 



We put the poor wild creature on the bottom of the 

 boat. She was perfectly quiet and submissive. Her 

 head was erect and her eyes bright, but she had no 

 challenge in her gaze. She seemed unhurt, but subdued. 

 We pitied her. Bert insistpd on killing her and rifling 

 the nest. He said it would be at least $5 to him. We 

 told him he would have to make that $5 some other way. 

 There was no resisting the pathos of that gaze. In went 

 Mrs. Loon to the water. On the following day the Man- 

 negold party, fishing on Julia, found a dead loon at the 

 upper end of the creek, a mile from where we caught 

 ours. Could it after all have been our bird? We hoped 

 not. If so, what killed her ? We could not find a mark 

 on the bird anywhere. Was it fright, humiliation, or 

 shock of the bullet on the water above her back ? We 

 hope still it was not our bird. 



I am not yet done with loon stories. We saw a pair of 

 loons going to and from their nest on the island of Virgin 

 Lake the next day, and one of the Mannegold party, a 

 little later, actually picked up the two young birds on the 

 water and brought them to the house. They were tiny 

 black balls of down, much like little chickens. Under 

 persuasion these birds also were returned to the water 

 near the island, and we hope that the old birds, who filled 

 all the air of the dusky evening with their wild and 

 mournful complainings, found their little black babies 

 all safe again. How strange the love of each creature for 

 its young. Nature, they call that, but beautiful, in any 

 view. And where shall we find Nature thus, and feel 

 the beauty and touchingness of it all, unless we go to the 

 woods and streams ? E. Hough. 



[TO BE CONCLUDED.] 



CHAT OF MICHIGAN WATERS. 



GRAND HAVEN, Mich., June 19.— Editor Forest 

 and Stream: I send you by this mail a photograph 

 of trout caught by Mr. Andrew Gerber, of Fremont, 

 Mich. I saw in one of your late numbers the statement 

 that the best stream fishing was to be had in the vicinity 

 of White Cloud, Mich. While the fishing at White 

 Cloud is excellent, it is by no means the best. I have 

 fished a great deal at White Cloud, but this spring have 

 spent most of my spare time on the streams near Fre- 

 mont, and always with success. Ever since the middle 

 of May the trout have been ravenous for the fly, and time 

 and again have I fished with a bait-fisherman and beaten 

 him hollow. 



In regard to the color of trout. I spent several hours 

 the other day at the State fish hatchery at Paris, Mich., 

 and noticed brook trout in the same pond, of the same 

 age, on the same bottom, fed on the same food, hatched 

 from the same lot of spawn, and their color ranged all 

 the way from the very lightest -to a deep black— one indi- 

 vidual in fact being so dark that the spots could hardly 

 be seen. It seems clear to me that they are "just born 

 that way." 



The mosquitoes are getting so troublesome that the 

 greatest fishing crank can only enjoy himself by liberal 

 applications of dope. 



The woodcock shooting through this part of the State 

 is going to be good this fall, the birds have had a good 

 spring for breeding. I have seen numbers of them while 

 trout fishing. My mind's eye is full of photographs of 

 places where they congregate, and I hope to see them all 

 again next September. 



A few days ago I fished with a friend of mine at Chip- 

 pewa Lake. We caught a fine lot of small-mouthed 

 black bass, ranging from 2 to 3ibs. For a long, tough, 

 hard-fought battle, let me recommend the Chippewa 

 Lake bass. You don't see him for several minutes after 

 you hook him, then you get a good look at him in the air. 



Chippewa Lake is about 10 miles from Big Rapids, 

 Mich. , and can be reached by rail. It is not much fre- 

 quented by visitors, gives fair hotel accommodations, 

 and for any one who wants fish, fish and lots of them, 

 this is the place to go. 



I hate to hear anyone argue against the artificial stock- 

 ing of trout streaun. Why in this part of Michigan, 

 instead of enjoying the best fishing in the State, we 

 would have none at all if we didn't stock and re-stock 

 our streams. Take for example two representative streams, 

 the Cedar and the Cushman, within easy drive of Fre- 

 mont, neither of them natural trout streams, but both 

 of them, owing to the fact of them having been stocked, 

 furnishing sport and food for hundreds of people. Now 

 I am sure that ten pounds per day is a very small average 

 for the fish taken from either of these streams during the 

 open season, to say nothing of those taken illegally. 

 That would be about 2,4001bs. per year. One of your 

 correspondents would have u-? believe that the fish from 

 these two streams costs the State $2,400 a year. With 

 tbe number of streams in this part of the State and the 

 number of fishermen to take the fish, the country would 

 soon be bankrupt. And to people here, there is no doubt 

 that re-stocking these same streams each year helps to 

 keep up the supply. We put the fry away up in the head 

 waters of the little tributaries where they are safe till 

 they get old enough to seek the deep waters of the larger 

 stream. Charlie Morgan and I have not taken our voy- 

 age down the White River yet, but hope to soon. The 

 canvas boat works to perfection. Mac. 



Trout Netting in Connecticut.— Thomas B. Broder, 

 of this city, was arraigned before Justice of the Peace 

 Sidney E. Clark, at Windsor, to-day. He entered a plea 

 of guilty on four counts for netting trout in West Brook 

 (a fine trout stream) in Windsor. Justice Clark imposed 

 a fine of $7 on each count and costs, which amounted to 

 $20.62, making the picnic cost Broder $43.62. It is about 

 time that the public understood that the fish and game 

 laws mean something— especially when Detective W. C. 

 Fielding and President A. C. Collins get a faint clew. It 

 will be remembered that Lewis M. Hoskins and Charles 

 McKinney, of Tariffville, helped Broder in his netting ex- 

 ploit. The two former were fiued last Saturday, and to- 

 day tbe city man was before the justice with the above 

 result. Justice Clark addressed the prisoner substantial- 

 ly as follows: "Netting trout is a flagrant violation of 

 the fish law. You, living in the city, and having the ad- 

 vantage of the daily papers, should know the law better 

 than persons living in the country. If you come before 

 me again for the same offense you will go to jail." — 

 Hartford Times, 



