478 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan, L 1891. 



THE WOLF OF THE WATEKS. 



AFAR off, in the extreme northern part of the State of 

 Wisconsin, secure from ordinary intrusion, lie the 

 cluster of small lakes that have become famous among 

 the members of the angling fraternity as the home of the 

 lordly muskallonge. They are scattered in bewildering 

 profusion over a territory many hundreds of square miles 

 in extent, and comparatively few have become well 

 enough known to acquire distinctive titles, and, owing to 

 the absence of an accurate record of such observations 

 and christenings as have from time to time, in desultory 

 ways, been made, several have unhappily received the 

 same name, which fact rather tends to confuse the pil- 

 grim from other lands. 



The great majority of them, however, are so remote 

 from the confines of civilization and take such little part 

 in the active affairs of every day life, being seldom looked 

 upon or traversed except by the adventurous sportsman, 

 that they are very likely to remain in their present state 

 of obscurity for some time to come. They represent an 

 immense variety of sizes and shapes, some being bound 

 together in the most fantastically constructed groups, 

 while others stand out isolated and lonely, as though lost 

 and deserted amid the tangled , almost impenetrable mass 

 of forest growths that surround them. 



Many have their outlets into the numerous tributaries 

 of the Wisconsin River, being connected in their descent 

 by hundreds of cold , clear, and for the most part shallow 

 little creeks which serve as excellent guides from one to 

 the other. A great many empty, through like channels, 

 into rivers flowing northward on then- placid way to Lake 

 Superior. Although there is great irregularity in respect 

 to then various formations, comparative depths and other 

 characteristics, there seems to be considerable order in the 

 distribution of the different groups as far as their relative 

 position to one another is concerned, for there is just 

 about the same amount of space between them all, and 

 the traveler can feel almost assured that three or four 

 miles in any direction will take him to one of these lakes 

 or to the stream that immediately empties into or flows 

 from it. 



In size they range from an average width of 200yds. up 

 to five or six miles, the majority being from a half mile 

 to a mile in diameter. They are all, almost without ex- 

 ception, hemmed in to the waters edge by dense forests 

 of spruce, pine, hemlock, maple and birch, with here and 

 there the clean-looking Norway towering in stately 

 majesty above its less favored rivals. 



They are all well supplied with game fish of several 

 varieties, and here, whether trolling between high, pic- 

 turesque bluffs or tramping with gaudy fly along the 

 wooded, secluded banks of the trout streams, the gentle 

 art can be enjoyed in all its perfection. There is an ele- 

 ment of primeval, untainted wildness in the surround- 

 ings that lingers long in the memory of the enthusiastic 

 devotee, and which lures him back to these lonely spots 

 with an irresistible fascination. He is so far away from 

 the influences of his past existence that he truly seems to 

 move and have his being in a separate and distinct world, 

 and the feeling, while it lasts, is delicious. But the ties 

 of civilization have too firm a foundation, in his nature, 

 to permit him harboring a very strong desire to lead the 

 unfettered life of the roving woodsman, and when the 

 time comes he gladly returns to the conventionalities of 

 home life. 



The yearly immersions in forest depths, the many 

 silent; interviews with the inquisitive red squirrel on some 

 obscure runway, the noiseless tramp through deep woods 

 or over the treeless plains, in the dim half light of early 

 dawn, the pleasant reveries in some open glade smoothly 

 carpeted with the soft, yielding pine needles, the long 

 pulls through the white-capped waves of some distant 

 lake where the weird, human-like cry of the wary loon 

 mingles in sweet accord with the light plash of the oars, 

 the sudden flight of the timid duck startled by the ap- 

 pearance of the light canvas boat as it floats silently 

 around one of the numerous bends in the shallow stream, 

 theltonk, honk, of the wild geese passing high overhead 

 in their swift journey to the south— these are the scenes 

 that appeal to him so" strongly and to which he hastens 

 to return with an ever increasing affection. And aside 

 from the matter of refined sentiment, who can estimate 

 the amount of physical benefit received? He leaves 

 almost broken down under the demands of a busy life 

 and comes back tanned, strong and healthy, with a 

 strange, enjoyable feeling of elastic endurance, as though 

 the pure air, fresh from the balsam boughs, had given 

 him new life. 



In the course of a year many people find their way to 

 this lake region, some equipped only with hook and line, 

 some in search of the elusive deer, and others to combine 

 these pleasures with the enjoyment of sleeping for weeks 

 in the open air. Quite a number go up during the sum- 

 mer, oftentimes taking their families along, and camp on 

 some convenient lake close to the railroad station where 

 supplies can easily be obtained. But others, whose main 

 object is to secure good hunting and fishing, will pene- 

 trate the wilderness as far as possible with the aid of horse 

 and wagon, and, when the limit of this sort of travel is 

 reached, push on to more remote points in their boats or 

 over game trails. In trips of this kind a folding canvas 

 boat is almost indispensable, as it can readily be carried 

 from one point to another, and at the same time is very 

 staunch on the water. 



Now and then some rich old fellow, strong in his love 

 of the woods, will come up alone with a single small tent, 

 and, accompanied only by the guide that he has probably 

 engaged in advance, travel from one group of lakes to 

 another, fishing and hunting as he goes, disturbed in his 

 solitary devotions by none. 



A few years ago muskallonge were very plenty in all 

 the lakes of this region, but, as the destructive axe of the 

 lumberman cleared the way through the trackless laby- 

 rinth, all those lakes at all accessible from their rough 

 wagon roads were soon depleted, and at the present time 

 they are rarely caught except in waters far removed from 

 these points. Many were taken to supply the immediate 

 wants of the voracious lumbermen, but their destruction, 

 for the most part, is due to the despicable desire for so- 

 called "fame" that actuates many unsportsmanlike ang- 

 lers. Some of this class seem possessed of the idea that 

 the more fish they can kill in a certain length of time, 

 even though they are allowed to spoil by the barrel, the 

 higher they stand in the estimation of their brothers of 

 the craft, and in consequence of this chiliish delusion 

 thousands of these noble fish wereMiled and then thrown 



out on the bank to rot in order that these butchers might 

 gratify their barbarous ambitions. They are one and all 

 sadly lacking in the essentials that enter into the appre- 

 ciation a,nd enjoyment of manly sport, else they could 

 but realize how lowly they appear in the eyes of the hu- 

 mane sportsman. 



As an outcome of this wholesale destruction, hardly a 

 muskallonge can be found iu any of the lakes lying at all 

 close to the lumber roads, and as good fishing grounds 

 have become more and more remote and difficult of 

 access, the inexperienced in this par t of the country have 

 much trouble in securing reliable information as to the 

 best points at which to locate, and greater trouble in 

 reaching these points after such information is obtained. 



Plenty of good sport can yet be had with the muskal- 

 longe in these waters, but they can no longer be captured 

 without hard, tiresome marches through thick forests 

 and long journeys over out-of-the-way lakes and their 

 connecting streams. However, the pursuit of this sport 

 justifies all the preliminary wor'k and expense involved, 

 and to many its value is far greater than this. 



One dark night in the early part of October, not many 

 years ago, found us plodding along almost at the end of 

 our journey in the very heart of a Wisconsin wilderness. 

 We had traveled since 2 o'clock that afternoon, and. if 

 there had been light enough to make our tired, faces and 

 drooping forms visible, a single glance would have con- 

 vinced the most skeptical observer that we were certainly 

 in need of immediate and long-continued rest. Eighteen 

 miles! At home, on the smooth, well-kept highways, 

 this would have seemed a very short distance for a day's 

 journey on wheels, but in the north woods a mile is one 

 of the most indefinite of quantities, and it is almost im- 

 possible to find any two inhabitants who will agree as to 

 the exact location of or distance to even well-known 

 points. It is, therefore, better for one not to place too 

 much confidence in the off-hand replies to his anxiously 

 delivered questions. A mile in these woods may mean 

 an hour's hard work or it may be a matter of only a few 

 minutes' exertion, and as hope is a. great incentive to 

 action, it is probably better to be without exact knowl- 

 edge as to the distance to one's destination. 



We had virtually been sustained by hope for the last 

 hour or two, as it was now nine o'clock and we had long 

 ago ceased to rely on the teamster's frequent and volun- 

 tary assertions that we would soon be there. We would 

 walk awhile to keep warm and then climb upon the 

 sturdy road wagon that carried our outfit, to procure 

 momentary respite for our weary limbs. It was not 

 pleasant riding, to be sure, nor was it for an instant to be 

 considered in the nature of a luxury, but it was a much 

 easier mode of motion than incessant tramping at that 

 particular time. 



To those who have passed through these nearly track- 

 less wilds on four wheels probably nothing can be said 

 that would render their reminiscences of such moments 

 more vivid or painful, as they have taken the last degree, 

 but to the uninitiated there might be conveyed a faint, 

 inadequate idea of the wondrous torturing properties of 

 one of these rough vehicles on its natural track— an old. 

 abandoned logging road. The pecidiar and characteristic 

 sounds they give out while in motion remain an inde- 

 structible element in his memory. It is a continual, un- 

 ceasing bump, bang, crash, rumble and creak from one 

 end to the other, and the dull, monotonous jar on one's 

 ears becomes in the course of a few hours almost unbear- 

 able, When the horses stop occasionally to drink and the 

 dense forest again resumes its habitual silence, a great 

 sense of relief is experienced. The road is always full of 

 fallen logs, chunks of wood, rocks, gullies and holes of 

 every shape and description, and the typical woodsman 

 never for a moment thinks of turning to a\ T oid them, but 

 strikes these formidable obstacles with a straight-forward 

 persistency that is, to say the least, inspiring. They time 

 and again drive over logs over two feet in diameter, and 

 jolt down into those frequent deep openings characteristic 

 of corduroy roads, not only with apparent unconcern, but 

 with a very perceptible, feeling of delight. 



The one we had engaged was in no wise different from 

 the others, and for seven long tedious hours he had been 

 instilling into our minds many new and startling ideas 

 as to the endurance of wagon material in general anal of 

 the human frame work in particular. We began to feel 

 as though we would be deeply grateful to somebody if 

 we could only catch sight of his shanty and know posi- 

 tively that it would not be necessary to bump through 

 this vast forest the night through. 



The trail descended into a deep ravine, and we passed 

 down into an almost impenetrable darkness; the sounds 

 made by the wheels were muffled in the yielding sand, 

 and as the bump, bamp, crack, ceased for a moment we 

 were surrounded by a silence so deep that it could almost 

 be felt. The trees interlaced their crooked branches 

 overhead and shut out even the pale gleam that would 

 have come from a few stars, of which w T e had a glimpse 

 now and then through some little opening. A slight 

 splashing noise immediately in front informed us that 

 the horses had entered one of those cold numerous little 

 trout streams that thread the country in all directions, 

 and we dismounted to stretch our stiffened limbs and 

 allow the tired animals to refresh themselves with large 

 draughts of the pure water. 



It had been pleasantly w T arm during the day, but as 

 night came on the air grew chill and penetrating and it 

 was only by frequent brisk walks taken in the dark at 

 the risk of a hard fall that we could keep up sufficient 

 circulation to feel comfortable. 



At length, after passing a bend in the Wisconsin River, 

 which flowed in a dark, noiseless, snakelike line between 

 thick growths of pine and hemlock rising straight from 

 the water's edge, we entered a chopping or open place in 

 the forest caused by cutting out the heavy timber, and 

 when the driver gave vent to a long, peculiar cry that 

 rang weirdly out on the night air, we knew that the 

 much needed relief was close at hand. 



And so it proved, for near the other end of the clearing 

 we saw a gleam of light that appeared to come through a 

 window of some kind, and soon after drove in between 

 two long, low, heavy-looking log houses that had evi- 

 dently served as a lumberman's camp in days gone by. 

 The teamster's good wife had wakened at his call and 

 gave us a hearty welcome as we entered the rude but 

 comfortable interior, where a roaring fire in a big sheet 

 iron stove was throwing out welcome rays of condensed 

 sunshine. We ordered supper for two, and then pro- 

 ceeded to thoroughly toast ourselves on ail sides while 

 enjoying the savory odors of hot coffee and broiled A T eni- 



son that floated in from the kitchen and served to whet 

 our already ravenous appetites to a keen edge. It would 

 be a useless task to attempt to describe our intense appre- 

 ciation of that simple meal. We cannot think of it with- 

 out a glowing sense of satisfaction as of some long-felt 

 wish fulfilled, and to this day it stands preeminent among 

 a host of other but minor feasts. 



And the beds! They were soft and clean, a fit resting 

 place for tired out mortals; and while the fire burned 

 lower and lower and the sharp north wind with mourn- 

 ful voice swept swiftly by the rough hewn corners of our 

 rustic retreat, we thankfully closed our eyes and sank 

 into that sweet oblivion which, is the just reward and 

 natural result of a clear conscience and a long mardh 

 through the pure, clear, health-giving air of the pine 

 woods. 



The next day dawned bright and beautiful, and after par- 

 taking of a hearty breakfast and photographing for future 

 reference the rude looking stricture where we had been 

 so hospitably received, we crossed Little Germaine Lake, 

 on the east side of which we intended to camj), and were 

 soon busy in the pleasant occupation of erecting tents and 

 getting our equipage in good order. Our strong canvas 

 house was soon up, and a few boatloads of short hemlock 

 boughs from the lake shore a little further up were evenly 

 distributed along one side and served as excellent bedding. 

 We placed the large sleeping tent and a smaller one, 

 under which we intended to eat, face to face and about 

 seven feet apart, and over a pole which united the two 

 we stretched a stout convas fly. Our camp stove was 

 placed under this, and by opening the flaps of the tents it 

 was an easy matter to heat the whole space thoroughly , 

 and we were thus enabled to keep everything nice and 

 dry and sleep comfortably even during the coldest 

 weather. 



Big St. Germaine, some two by five miles in extent, lay 

 to the west of us, and although there was no water con- 

 nection between it and the lake on whose shore we were 

 camped, the strip of heavily-timbered land dividing them 

 narrowed down at one point to about twenty-five yards, 

 and this place afforded a short and convenient portage 

 from one to the other. There was a large rugged, boulder 

 right in the center of this pathway, and one seated on it, 

 commanding a view of both lakes through the fantastic 

 archway of entwining branches and clinging vines, en- 

 joyed as picturesque and beautiful a scene as he could 

 well wish for. The water was very shallow along close 

 to the shore, gradually deepening until the rays of light 

 could no longer penetrate to the bottom, when it assumed 

 an appearance of almost inky blackness. Both were sur- 

 rounded on all sides by alternating groves of northern 

 pine, hemlock, maple and birch, in some places growing 

 down close to the high-water mark and in other places 

 standing back far enough to show strips of firm, white 

 sandy soil, which the waves had washed clear of all ob- 

 jects not deeply imbedded in it. 



A few years ago these lakes were famed far and wide, 

 among the angling fraternity, as the home of the gamy 

 muskallonge, and it was here that we had come to enjoy 

 our first experience with it. 



We were not novices in the gentle art, and many a 

 black bass, salmon and trout had fallen to our trusty 

 rods, but, it should be-confessed at the start, that we had 

 never hunted the muskallonge and had never before been 

 on the Eagle waters. If such had been the case, we 

 most assuredly would not have settled down so comfort- 

 ably and with quite so much self-satisfaction on the shore 

 of St. Germaine. For the most part, we were ignorant 

 of the habits of this denizen of wild waters, and had but 

 faintly outlined ideas as to the best manner in which to 

 pursue the sport, but we had full confidence in our ability 

 to master the details in a short time. 



We remained in this camp two weeks, and not a day 

 passed but what we were out scouring the lakes in all 

 directions, yet with all our care and perseverance nothing 

 larger than a five pound lake trout was ever brought in 

 from these wafers. It is true we were enjoying ourselves 

 immensely, and, if our expectations had not been pitched 

 so high in a certain direction, we should confessed that 

 the fishing we did have was first-class. We caught many 

 fine large-mouthed black bass with live bait, to say noth- 

 ing of the great number of good-sized, gamy lake trout, 

 but we had not come six hundred miles for these alone, 

 and we felt that there was still an aching void that had 

 as yet remained unfilled. 



Ruffed grouse were plenty, and it was only necessary 

 to take the shotgun and wander along the old lumber 

 roads in the morning and evening in order to secure from 

 six to a dozen fine fat fellows. They were not hard to 

 kill if one preferred to take them as they sat with bob- 

 bing heads on a low limb or strutted proudly before him 

 in the open trail: but should he wish to adopt the more 

 sportsmanlike method of shooting on the wing, he would 

 soon find that he stood in need of all his skill. They gen- 

 erally lie quite still until the intruder is almost upon 

 them, when they rise from the ground so suddenly 

 and Avith such a whirr of rapidly beating wings that un- 

 less one's nerves are unusually steady he is apt to be 

 slightly startled. When a few feet from the ground they 

 start off with the velocity of a cannon ball, and it re- 

 quires a good snap shot to bag this noble bird where the 

 surrounding timber is at all thick. The flesh of the 

 grouse is palatable in the extreme, being juicy, tender 

 and richly flavored, and when one is split open on the 

 back and broiled to a turn, with proper seasoning, there 

 are few things so pleasing to the taste. H. Lynde, 

 . [TO BE CONTINUED.] 



Notes on Massachusetts Fishes.— I have caught two 

 brook trout in my fyke net in Great Harbor, Wood's Holl, 

 lately, and they were full of ripe eggs. I put them in 

 the aquarium and one of the fish deposited her eggs 

 there. The ti-out lived only a few days in the aquarium. 

 The sea bass and mullet died Dec. 20. The temperature 

 of the water is down to 35 s . We are doing well taking 

 cod eggs, having already taken more than 30,000,000. 

 From present appearances, if the fish live, two or three 

 weeks longer, we ought to obtain 50,000,000. Cod were 

 very plentiful throughout Vineyard Sound during last 

 fall, The tomcod are now spawning here. — Vixal N. 

 Edwabds (Wood's Holl, Mass.). In the small streams 

 flowing into Cape Cod and Wellileet bays large numbers 

 of eels are now being caught. W. P. Burnham, of Essex. 

 Mass., caught twenty-two pickerel through the ice in 

 Chebacco Lake on the 9th iast. Some of the fish ex- 

 ceeded 21l»3. in weight.— Gloucester Daily Times, 



