£6 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 14, 189g. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS.-IV. 



GREEN LAKE, MICHIGAN. 



The One Lone Bass of Green Lake. 



"We were up next morning before the sun, and on the 

 water soon after — Sam and Charley in the skiff, Harry, 

 Gooder and Kelpie in the Traverse boat, while I went it 

 alone, the Masons having gone home the night before 

 with a promise to come back next evening to see "what 

 luck," and the Colonel still holding to his determination 

 not to wet a line till a bass was brought in. 



I pulled out for the point below on the further side of 

 the lake, the other two boats going across to the rush- 

 grown bar and around into the deep bay at the extreme 

 further side of the upper arm of the lake, a part of the 

 upper waters that they had been over only once the day 

 before. 



The lake was quiet except for a gentle ripple on the 

 water, and I expected to get a bass or two at the point; 

 but 1 fished patiently all around it for two hours with- 

 out a solitary bite, and I was glad old Sam was not in 

 hailing distance. 



I pulled across to the further shore— the lake was nar- 

 row here, a matter of forty rods wide — and fished awhile 

 along the bulrushes in shallow water with the same re- 

 sults as on the other side. 



Tired of sitting in the boat, I went ashore and walked 

 back to a farmhouse, a quarter of a mile from the lake, 

 and bought a cou^ple of pounds of home-made butter, 

 which I carried back to the boat in a small tin lard pail 

 furnished by the good housewife. 



While she was getting the butter ready I tried to scrape 

 an acquaintance with a big savage-tempered pup— a 

 cross between a Newfoundland and a mastiff— chamed 

 to a small dog house in the yard, but the attempt was a 

 total failure, I evidently didn't remind him of any one 

 he had ever been introduced to, as he came near "stran- 

 gling himself in his efforts to break the chain and get at 

 me to "chaw me up into sassige." He barked and 

 choked and growled savagely by turns and surged at the 

 chain at every move 1 made, and all my arguments to 

 convince him he was making a show of himself were 

 wasted, I would have given a dollar of our daddies for 

 a chance to knock the conceit out of the vicious cuss with 

 the swipe of a good peeled elm club, but at the same time 

 I was glad the chain had no weak links in it, else I would 

 have had to " tree" on mighty short notice. 



Back at the boat I shaded my butter in the bow with 

 some willow boughs and pulled across to the point, where 

 I put in another hour trying to make the acquaintance 

 of some stray bass or pickerel, but it turned out like the 

 attempt to make friends with the big pup. 



I went on down the lake, fishing carefully over all the 

 good-looking water till near the mouth of the trout 

 stream, and not caring to try that again, crossed over 

 and fished up the opposite shore for a mile, crossed back 

 and fished around the point some more, and then around 

 into the bay at the head of the lake, and around the long 

 sandbar and across to camp as the long shadows began 

 to creep out on the water without once hearing a click 

 from the reel that could by any stretch of the imagina- 

 tion have been caused by a fish during the whole unsatis- 

 factory cruise, although I had tempted and persuaded 

 them with minnows, frog and spoon. 



Two days of patient, careful fishing without a symptom 

 of a nibble was a backset to my ]5ride as a bass fisher 

 that tempted me to smash the faithful old rod across my 

 knee, cut a pole in the "bresh," and tie on a piece of the 

 flag halliards for a line and start in anew to learn it all 

 over again. 



I made up my mind that I was mistaken about the bass 

 congregating in the pool below the chute in the spring or 

 at any other time; I was done with Green Lake at all 

 events and ready to break camp at the faintest sugges- 

 tion. 



The other two boats were in with another assorted lot 

 of goggle-eyes and bluegills, and as I climbed the bank 

 old Sam rubbed it in on me with— 



"He didn't ketcli a single bass, 

 Nor nary pick-er-el." 



But Sam had really hooked a bass, a small-mouth, a 

 S pounder, the lone bass of Green Lake, and lost him. In 

 relating the unusual episode he wound it up with, "He 

 sailed out o' the water a couple o' Joot high an' when he 

 lit into it agin, with the hook still aholdin', I thought sure 

 he was my meat, but he made a streak for the grass, an' 

 before I could git in the slack o' the line he was teetotally 

 tangled up in the weeds, an' all the pullin' I could do 

 didn't budge him. Charley backed the boat over the 

 place where the line was fast an' I jest pulled on the 

 durned thing till it broke, an' then my heart dropped 

 down into my nigh shoe, for I wanted that bass worse 'n 

 the boy did the woodchuck. I reckon he was the last o' 

 the tribe in Green Lake, fur that was the only bite any of 

 us got all day, 'ceptin' o' them ornery red-eyes and blue- 

 gills, which they ain't no 'count no how." 



How Green Lake was Ruined. 



When we had staked out our claims around the camp- 

 tire after supper, with Kelpie in the chair, it didn't take 

 long to vote Green Like a full-sized failure as far as the 

 fishing in it was concerned. 



Aleck, who was present, admitted that he had not 

 fished the lake for four years, but he had advised us to 

 come there believing that it was as good as when he last 

 fished it. He had overlooked the fact that the year before 

 there had been two railroads built that passed near it, the 

 Chicago and West Michigan within a mile and a half and 

 the Manistee and Northeastern, that ran between Green 

 and Duck Lakes, not more than twenty rods from our 

 camp, crossing the C. & W. M. at Interlochen, and he had 

 not kept track of the spearing that had been done in it, 

 as told us by a farmer who stopped at the camp for a few 

 minutes' neighborly chat while on his way home from 

 the village. He said that the railroad laborers, the 

 villagers and the neighboring farmers had speared the 

 lake the season before till there were no bass or i>ickerel 

 left in it, or at lea^t only a very few; that often from 10 

 to 15 "jack-lights" could be counted on the lake of a 

 night, and that from 30 to ISOlbs. of bass and pickerel— 

 mostly bass —to the boat was about the run of the "kill" 

 for the night; that be himself, with a partner to paddle 

 the canoe, had killed with a spear ISOlbs. of bass a»<} 



pickerel in one night; and he added, "I 'Ipw there wasn't 

 more than 10 or 12 big pickerel among the whole lot." 



And that guileless mossback stood up there with a 

 spring-lamb-like look of innocence on his face and be- 

 wailed the scarcity of fish in Green Lake. 



Of what use are fish laws in a locality like that? Had 

 the goggle-eyes and bluegills not been too small for the 

 spear they too would have been included in the general 

 slaughter, and it was lucky for us that they were small 

 fry, else our frying-pans would have given forth only the 

 smell of pork, not counting the fleeting odor of the six- 

 teen hapless trout. 



It was no longer passing strange that six old bass fish- 

 ers had fished the better part of three days and only 

 struck one vagrant, lonesome bass, and lost him, which 

 was a fitting wind up to our shattered dreams of 

 sport. Old Sam shifted his stool a few feet out of the 

 smoke and remarked with a solemnity befitting the occa- 

 sion, "Bunkoed agin," and he about echoed the sentiment 

 of the c imp. 



Aleck's glowing account of the fishing in the lake had 

 proved, as Sam said, "powerful misleadin'," but we "held 

 no skunner agin him" for it, neither against Postmaster 

 Colbjornson, who had doubtless just waked up from a 

 couple of years' nap when he wrrote, "The fishing is im- 

 mense, the "finest lakes for fishing in the State of Michi- 

 gan," etc, 



Carp Lake is the New Hope. 



Duck hike, about a quarter of a mile from the camp, 

 had doubtless been more industriously worked with the 

 spear than Green Lake, as the upper end of it was only a 

 short distance from the village. At any rate we had 

 taken a dead -set against the region and it was decided 

 not to waste any time investigating Duck Lake, although 

 as viewed from the shore nearest camp it was larger, 

 much richer in scenery around its shores and a more 

 "fishy" looking body of water than the other. It only 

 remained to decide between Platte Lake, about fifteen 

 miles west nor'west of us, and the upper waters of Carp 

 Lake, nine or ten miles northwest of Traverse City, 

 where we had camped the year before. 



Carp Lake was the choice without much discussion 

 because we knew the water and the fishing, which, if 

 not the very best, was yet "good enough for the Jonese?," 

 and we would be near the best of neighbors who would 

 be glad to welcome us back, and we could get boats 

 without any trouble, to say nothing of the good things 

 brought to us in the shape of vegetables, milk, butter, 

 eggs, a chicken or two when we hankered after pot-pie, 

 a quarter of Uncle .Jimmy Nolan's unapproachable mut- 

 ton whenever we felt "sheepish," "lashin's o' rozberries," 

 and so on — all at prices so surprisingly low to us "city 

 fellers" that it seemed like giving them away. 



We would go back to Carp Lake and make our camp at 

 some pleasant spot along its familiar shore and feel that 

 we were again with an old friend. We would float and 

 fish, and dream and idle away the sunny days on its 

 bright waters, and be soothed to sleep by the plash of tbe 

 waves on the beach as a child by the voice of its mother. 



Again we were living in the pleasures of anticipation, 



Aleck was to send over the wagon by 8 or 9 o'clock 

 next morning for the first load, and the last was to be 

 ready in time to reach the station for the 13:05 P. M. 

 train to Traverse City. 



Before breaking up next morning Harry took a few 

 snap-shots at the camjj with his Kodak, a copy of which 

 he furnished each of the party after we returned home, 

 and that is about all we have left (and about all we want) 

 to keep the remembrance of Green Lake green in our 

 memories. 



On top of the last load the big boat was hoisted and 

 tied fast, and when a hundred yards or two in the woods 

 the wagon was stopped and we climbed on top, except 

 Harry, who took a "pot shot" at us with the Kodak, 

 which he afterward christened "yachting in the woods." 



The wagon kept on down the road and we cut through 

 the woods to the railroad track to walk to town, leaving 

 Green Lake and its disappointments behind without a 

 regret, although we had enjoyed the camp because it was 

 a pleasant one. 



There may have been hundreds of bass and pickerel, 

 and a stray "muskylong" or two in the lake at the time, 

 but they were not for us. It may be they were on a 

 strike— albeit we felt "nary a strike" from any of them— 

 or holding a mass meeting of three days' duration in some 

 secluded bay to discuss the advisability of leaving a lake 

 where everything in the shape of a man within miles of 

 it was the owner of a spear; or it may be that we had for- 

 gotten our early training and failed to find out the kind 

 of bait that would tempt their capricious or as Dick Mac 

 says, their "facetious" appetites. 



At any rate we got none of them, and we have been in 

 some doubt since whether we were altogether in fault, or 

 had been beguiled to a barren lake by a couple of guile- 

 less old fish liars for a little fun at our expense. If the 

 latter, we "acknowledge the corn," but will keep our 

 weather eye open hereafter for lee shores on "the best 

 bass lakes in the State of Michigan," 



As we strung out in single file along the hot, sand 

 ballasted track, casting a glance now and then over 

 toward Duck Lake, I think the only regret at leaving 

 was, that we had not fished it a couple of days to ^ee if 

 there were any bluegills and goggle-eyes in it. 



Some of the villagers had told us it was a better lake 

 for fish than Green Like, others that it was not nearly 

 as good, but we were satisfied with our experience with 

 the region and not in a mood to believe anything good of 

 it. We had but a short time to wait for the train, long 

 enough for Harry to arrange for shipping his boat back 

 to Traverse City and to say good-bye to Aleck, who had 

 come over to see us off. It may ease his mind, if he 

 ever sees this, to know we found no faxilt with him. 

 He had done the very best he could for us and was 

 honest in his belief about the fishing in the lake, as it 

 had been a few years before, and he had spent four or 

 five days hunting boats for us and getting lumber and 

 straw to the camping place, and the bill, including team 

 work, was $16. We were satisfied and left him with 

 kindly feeling and good wishes. 



The Caravan Wends its Way toward Mecca. 



Gooder had gone in on an early morning train to have 

 a couple of wagons ready, so no time would be wasted in 

 getting off for Carp It-ike, for the camp had to be made 

 Before dark. The wagons were waiting, one a long- 

 bodied lumber wagon that held all the calamities, the ' 



other a spring wagon with seats, and by 1 o'clock we 

 were on the road, Harry and Gooder leaving us here, 

 however, to take the steamer for Omena, with a promise 

 to come over to camp in a few days: but they didn't 

 come, which we laid to a "weakenin' o' the spine" on 

 account of tbe experience at Green Lake. 



A mile or so out of town we stopped at a little stream 

 flowing into the bay a few rods from the road to eat a 

 lunch, prepared before leaving Green Lake, which dis- 

 posed of , the spring- wagon took the lead, and before 3 

 o'clock we were looking down on Carp Lake from the 

 top of a hill with the site of our last year's camp in plain 

 view over two miles away on the further shore, and we 

 fancied we could see the inside of "Mother Nolan's" 

 spring-house, nestling just below the dwelling house on 

 the hillside, with its score or two of crocks and pans of 

 sweet, cold milk and cream ranged in scrupulous order 

 and neatness in the shallow, stone-lined basin, fed by a 

 cold stream of purest water gushing out of the hill from 

 under the very foundations of the house above. And we 

 caught a glimpse, too, in our mind at least, of a big 

 churn full of nectar fit for the gods, standing in one 

 corner, and of divers rolls of hard, sweet butter in their 

 snowy cloths, made by the hand of Mother Nolan herself, 

 bless her gentle, kindly, motherly old heart. 



All these good things and more we were reminded of, 

 and our mouths watered, and we resolved that it would 

 not be many days before we again saw the inside of that 

 weather-stained old spring-house, to drink a health and 

 long life to "Uncle Jimmy" Nolan, his good wife and 

 their boys and girls for the kindness and neighborly feel- 

 ing they had shown us the year before. 



At the foot of the hill the road turned squarely to the 

 right and led along down the lake shore, over a strip of 

 lowland between the lake and the hills that would have 

 been ' bottom land" had the lake been a river. A pleas- 

 ant drive of a couple of miles over an excellent road, at 

 no time more than three or four rods from the beach, 

 brought us in sight of a place we had selected the year 

 before for a camp, should we ever visit the lake again. 



It was in a small grove of young birches on a point 

 overlooking the water from a height of 13 or loft., and 

 only a short distance from a farmhouse standing a few 

 rods back from the lake at the foot of the hill, near 

 which a little clear cold stream flowed with ceaseless 

 whimper into the lake, where we had often stopped to 

 eat our noonday lunch and slake our thirst. A hundred 

 yards oft' this point at the break of the sandy bar where 

 the water suddenly deepened we had taken some very 

 fine small-mouthed baas, some of near 5lbs. , and we 

 hankered after some more of the same batching. 



A couple of hundi-ed yards, however, before we came 

 to the farmhouse we noticed a spot on the bank of the 

 lake that looked even more inviting for a camp than the 

 birch point, and stopping the wagon the others waittd 

 while'the Colonel and I walked down to the little grove 

 to decide between the two places, either one of which 

 was "good enough for the Joneses." 



We found the point a trifle more rocky and lumpy 

 than it bad looked to us the previous summer, and 

 although an excellent place for a camp we agreed that it 

 "wasn't in it" with the other spot, and we have never 

 regretted the choice, for we found it afterward to be the 

 most perfect and comfortable camp we have ever had in 

 all the years of our camping out. 



The little village of Bingham, with a big sawmill near 

 by it on the lake shore, Avas only about three-quarters of 

 a mile below, and as we could do nothing toward camp 

 making till the slow-going lumber wagon arrived with 

 the calamities, Charley and I prevailed on the youngster 

 who had driven us out to drive down to the mill for 

 some lumber that we would need for a table, etc., and we 

 were back with it as tbe boys were unloading the last 

 mess box from the wagon. It just then occurred to ua 

 that the owner of the land might object to us campine 

 there, and I went to the house to ask permission, but 

 finding no one around but a mean yaller dog with an 

 evil eye that wouldn't let me come inside the fence with- 

 out a "permit," I went back and we concluded to risk it 

 anyhow and move afterward if we had to. 



As we were putting the finishing touches on the first 

 tent our neighbor came up from the house — a pleasant 

 old German who seemed to have spent a good many years 

 in a fruitless effort to get the best of the American lan- 

 guage, and when we had introduced ourselves and our 

 wishes, permission was cheerfully given to camp there 

 "yust so long what you like," adding, in his best Ameri- 

 can, "You make some company mit me, don't it?" Had 

 he any straw in his barn? ' No straw," and the only man 

 he knew in the neighborhood who had any lived about 

 three miles below Bingham. Would he hitch up his team 

 (our teamsters had fulfilled their contract and started on 

 their i-eturn) for a consideration and go after a load? He 

 would, and Barney was detailed to go along in order to 

 get back the sooner. Then camp-making besanin earnest. 



KlNGFISHBR. 



'mtft^ md 



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Iowa Prairie Chicken Grounds. 



Algona, Iowa, July Q.— Editor Forest and Stream: In 

 two months' time the prairie chicken crop will be fit for 

 use. The rains have destroyed some of the young birds, 

 but we have had no spring prairie fires to destroy the 

 nests, so that taking everything into consideration I think 

 prairie chicken shooting will be fairly good. I have talked 

 with many farmers and they all say that there are a great 

 many young bu-ds. We are trying to stop all violations 

 of our game laws; and if all the clubs take hold and 

 work, there will be but little shooting out of season. The 

 farmers in this section like to see game laws enforced, 

 and are ready to lend a helping hand. 



I receive many letters every week from sportsmen 

 wishing to know where they can find chicken shooting. 

 I know of no better place than the northern part of this 

 county. Sportsmen can find hotels at Birt, Bancroft, 

 Ledyard and Elmore. 



Our lakes, rivers and sloughs are full of water, and I 

 see no reason why oiu* fall duck shooting should not be 

 good, John G, Smith, 



