2§0 
FOREST AND • STREAM. 
f April 4, 1896. 
day, and I sincerely hope that every man of them, whether 
from Boston, Taunton or elsewhere, will fully realize all 
the anticipations of the past two weeks . 
It is not often that otter are killed near Boston, but that 
some of the animals are domiciled near the city is proven 
by the exceptionally good luck which befell Geo. F. 
Ward, of Canton, Mass., who shot one of these animals a 
few days ago which weighed 24ilbs. and measured 5 ft. 
3in. It was a splendid specimen in every particular. Mr. 
Ward trapped this same animal before, but he got away, 
leaving the claws of one foot behind as a souvenir. "On 
the day of the shooting he saw two others outside of their 
hole, but they got under ground before he had a chance 
to shoot. After long and patient waiting the large one 
came out to reconnoiter and our friend bored a hole 
through him then and there. Even then he succeeded in 
getting into his hole so far that Mr. Ward had to pull 
him out by the tail. 
Henry Bryant and his friend, S. Decatur, of Boston, 
left on Friday last for the South. They have planned a 
most delightful fishing trip, going first to Key West, Fla, , 
where they will charter a yacht and cruise around in 
Southern waters for a month. Both gentlemen are expert 
yachtsmen, and they take with them fishing tackle 
enough for a long stay and suitable for any kind of fish- 
ing in the well-stocked waters off the Florida coast. H. 
S. Hovey and George Mixter, friends of Mr, Bryant, have 
made this trip for several successive years. They are 
veterans in knowledge of the best fishing grounds in 
Southern waters, so Messrs, Bryant and Decatur are well 
coached in this respect. 
Sportsmen who have visited the Sportsmen's Exhibition 
at New York could be seen in Boston at every turn during 
the last week, and I have purposely asked many of them 
their impression of the great show. The replies were al- 
most universally good, and very many were highly 
enthusiastic In nearly every instance particular and 
special praise was bestowed on Forest and Stream's ex- 
hibit, it being the general verdict that the old and favorite 
journal bad made a very creditable display of both its 
liberality and enterprise. It seems there is a project on 
foot to have a sportsmen's exhibition in Boston during the 
first week in May. There have been a few small circulars 
around the city stating the fact, but I have not yet found 
any one who seemed to be posted on the subject. Per- 
haps some one who reads this may be better informed than 
I and can give New England sportsmen the facts. 
Hackle. 
LURES FOR TROUT. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In a recent issue I saw a letter of Dr. M. G. Ellzey's on 
trout. No doubt his remarks are to the point and I am 
not going to criticise it. No doubt the localities in which 
both of us have fished being quite different in water, the 
habits of the fish, quality of the food, etc., must be taken 
into account. As a rule after June 20 our water (unless 
after heavy rains) is as clear as crystal. Our river has a 
course of some 150 miles, having feeders up which you 
can pole a canoe for miles. The trout are not the sea trout 
proper, for a large majority of them frequent the estuary 
andbay for six and seven months. They commence run- 
ning up in the latter part of June and a portion of July, 
gradually filing into these large feeders as the water in 
the river gets warm, the feeding streams being much 
colder. In those streams are many deep pools, often 
shaded by the driftwood and debris brought down and 
lodged against the banks, having deep water underneath. 
I wish the Doctor could see some of those shelters in 
August as I have, and the rapacity with which the brutes 
will take anything you choose to offer — fly, bait cut from 
themselves, a piece of a red rag, bit of pork. But a mouse 
that is the ne plus ultra. Remember there is no food of 
the fish kind there. So long as they remain in the river 
proper, they can get the young salmon smolt on his way 
to sea, and a dainty morsel he is for the trout. Failing 
that the trout is not particular; one of his own family is 
not rejected. Failing this he will fill his stomach with a 
handful of water snails, digasting the shells without any 
trouble. If a bee or a large salmon fly should come 
within a foot of the surface "he is a goner." Even a 
squirrel crossing the river (as they often do) is not safe, 
should a three-pounder spy him. So much for lures for 
trout in the Restigouche. 
The great majority of these trout after Sept. 15 (but not 
all) are worthless, and a gravid trout is enough to turn 
the stomach of a brave man, But just at this time a fresh 
run of fish enter from the estuary, continuing throughout 
October in fine condition, with not a sign of ova in them, 
and commonly l£lbs. in weight. This run of fish have 
not the ravenous appetites of the spring fish, and the bait 
fills the creel quicker than the fly. The best lure for these 
fellows is the salmon ova. I have done well with a small 
red glass bead for a while, but they soon smelt a rat. I 
believe they have the seeing, smelling and tasting senses 
almost in perfection. 
The question now arises, what causes this run of fish so 
late? Remember the river is often closed by ice in Novem- 
ber, and there can be no growth of vegetable, insect or 
fish life with the water at 32 degrees or less. Many of 
the June run make for the estuary water in November; 
and many of them remain where they spawned, not re- 
turning until the following May. The salmon act in the 
very same manner, hundreds of spenjt salmon returning 
to sea in June. Sea bright enes run up mixed with the 
spawned fish of the previous year running down, what 
we in Scotland would call a mended kelt. 
The lessees and proprietors of the now nearly closed up 
Restigouche claim the trout as well as the salmon, so the 
settlers are debarred even from trout fishing. Some of 
those parties would like to see the trout extirpated, but 
fear the poor devil might hook or catch a salmon, the un- 
pardonable sin of the poor settler, who first colonized the 
river, and while doing so had to exist as best he could on 
potatoes and salmon. I myself was one who did so and 
for months had nothing else. , 
The Doctor's blind is good if the locality is good, say at 
the mouth of a cold brook, but I prefer a floating blind, 
i. e., a small raft covered with boughs. A week will 
gather a large school under it, but I have done as well 
after dark along the shore in a foot of water with a small- 
sized natural mouse (giving it a quiet swimming motion) 
as any other I ever tried. Bat I am sorry to say those 
fish have caused me to exclaim in vigorous Anglo-saxon, 
when making a nice cast for a rising salmon just drop- 
ping over where I had seen him break, I have got one of 
those rascally 2 or 31b. trout fighting and breaking water 
like a small terrier. I never go a trouting purposely; the 
game is not worth the candle, John Mowat. 
"Fishermen Would Catch Fish." 
The deity of yon temple once wanted to see the world. 
Hovering over a pool, he thought that a bath in its cool 
waters would be delicious, so he changed himself into a 
carp. The result was delightful, until he found himself 
hooked up by a fisherman on the bank. His spirit flaw 
straightway to the Taoist, "Sovereign on High," and de- 
manded a redress of grievances. The supreme deity 
merely remarked that fishermpn would catch fish, and if 
he valued his dragonship so lightly as to return to the 
carp condition, he must expect to be caught. — Chinese 
Myth told by W. A Cornaby. 
New Brunswick Fish Commissioner. 
Mr, D. G. Smith, of Chatham, Miramichi, N. B., has 
been appointed Fishery Commissioner to fill the place 
made vacant by the death of Mr. J. Henry Phair. 
"That reminds me." 
Cape Breton Tales. 
We were in a shack on the North Cape when Paul, our 
Indian guide and hunter, told these tales around the 
camp-fire: 
"Bear — hum — North Cape bear hard to kill. We shoot 
a bear at Grand Ause — big, monstrous. Drag him one 
mile on snow to shack. Vera cold. Hira stiff. Shut 
door, build fire, skin him. Hide off all but tail, bear 
thaw out, kick in forelegs, kick in hindlegs, jump up; 
we hang on to skin, he pull out tail an' bolt through door 
without his hide, 
"Next summer at Bay St, Lawrence we kill him for good 
with skin just beginning to grow." 
Our applause led him to tell a second. 
"Cold in winter, yes. I was skatin' down Mira River 
last Christmas. Vera cold. Went chuck into air hole. 
Came up under ice. Vera dark, but I see spiles of ole 
coal road bridge down stream. Swim there. Catch 
spile, jam head 'gainst ice, break him, throw up hand. 
Mitten freese on iron spile, draw me up by it, throw up 
other hand, that mitten freese too, draw me up by it, 
Catch stringer, saved." 
"But, Paul," said we, "how did you get the first mit- 
ten loose?" 
"Pull out ban' an' left him stickin' there." 
But the old fellow would tell no more stories. We had 
presumed to question his veracity, a mortal sin with these 
men of the woods. 
The Cape Breton fishermen are equally expert at draw- 
ing the long bow. One whom I met on the beach at 
Mainadieu unloading his catch just brought in from the 
banks discoursed in this fashion. I remarked the 
different colors of the cod, varying from pale crimson to 
a brownish white. 
"Depends on their feedin' grounds," he said. "This 
here tinted fellar's a rock cod, lies on the rocks an' 
ledges. The light . ones feed on the shoals — a sandy 
bottom. The tints vary with every place, an' a good 
skipper can tell when he is in fog or darkness by the 
looks o' the fish he's catchin'. I sailed with an old 
skipper once in the fore-and-after Charming Sally from 
Sydney to Halifax. That was our beat, from Sydney to 
Halifax and from Halifax to Sydney, carrying coal one 
way, an assorted cargo t'other. Cap'n Bill didn't carry 
no lead. When 'twas dark or foggy an' he wanted to 
know where he was he just dropped a hook overboard 
an' brought up a cod, an' after inspectin' him he'd yell 
out Table Head, Cow Bay, Mainadieu Passage, Gabbe- 
roose, Fordin, Cow and Calf, or wherever he might be, 
and so on all the way to Halifax." 
* "What did the biggest codfish, you ever knew caught, 
weigh?" we asked. 
"Biggest cod I ever knew caught?" he put his boot 
upon the gunwale, buried his hand in his stubby head 
and thought. "Quintal an' a half" (1501bs.) he said at last. 
"Job Wick got him off Gabberoose. I took one off Cog- 
mandier once weighed a quintal. Best luck I ever had 
fishin' tho' was one afternoon in May in the fog, I don't 
know where, wish I did. There ain't a man from Main- 
adoo to Gabberoose that hasn't hunted high and low for 
that shoal an' can't find it. I took ten quintals finest cod 
you ever saw there in three hours, but the fog was so 
thick I couldn't lay any course, an' havin' nothing to 
buoy it with I had to leave it, trustin' to luck to find it 
ag'in, but we've never been able to, as I said." 
he Menml 
FIXTURES. 
BENCH 8HOW8. 
April 14 to 17. — Philadelphia Kennel Club's show, Philadelphia, Pa. 
Dr. Alexander Class, Sec'y. 
April 20 to 23.— New England Kennel Club's twelfth annual show. 
D. E. Loveland, Sec'y. 
April 21 to 24.— Southern California Kennel Club's show, Los Angeles, 
Cal. F. W. Ingalls, Sec'y. 
April 25 to 27.— Mohawk Kennel Club's show, Cohoea, N. Y. Wm. T. 
Ford, Sec'y, Oohoes, N. Y. 
May 6 to 9.— Pacific Kennel Club's fifth annual show. H. W. Orear, 
Sec'y. 
May 13 to 16 —Seattle Kennel Club's third annual show. 
Sept. 7 to 11.— Toronto Exhibition Association's eighth annual show, 
Toronto, Can. C. A. Stone, Sec'y of bench show. 
FIELD TRIALS. 
Sept. 2.— Morris, Man. — Manitoba Field Trials Club. John Wootton, 
Sec'y. 
Oct. 26 — Hempstead, L. I — Natioonal Beagle Club's trials. Geo. 
W. Rogers, Sec'y, 250 W. Twenty-second street, New York. 
Oct. 28.— Greene county. Pa.— The Monongaliela Valley Game and 
Fish Protective Association's second annual trials. S. B. Cummings 
Sec'y, Pittsburg. 
Nov. 16.— Newton, N. C— E. F. T, Club's trials. S. C. Bradley, Sec'y, 
Greenfield Hill, Conn. 
Nov. —.—Newton, N. O.—V. S. F. T. Club's fall trials. W. B. Staf- 
ford, Sec'y. 
Nov. 27.— Chatham, Ont. —International Field Trial Club's trials. 
W. B. Wells, Sec'y, Chatham, Ont. 
OLD HOOK. 
Old Hook waB a pointer, brown and white, with little 
brown specks over the white places on his coat. He was 
the best pointer I ever shot over or ever expect to shoot 
over. 
Perhaps two or three anecdotes of this wonderful old 
dog's sagacity in the field may not prove too afflicting to 
the readers of Forest and Stream. Before beginning, I 
will say that I have seen it stated in writing by an emi- 
nent sporting authority, "That a man who has been 
known for years to the whole community as a good citi- 
zen, good husband and father, and above all as a man of 
sterling integrity and veracity, has only to become the 
owner of a setter or pointer dog to develop in lesB than a 
week into a gaudy and ostentatious liar." 
I think there's a good deal in that statement; so I will 
clear the ground at once by saying that the great old dog 
I'm going to write about was not my dog, but was the 
property of a friend and frequent hunting comrade of 
mine, Mr. Jas. Soby, of Picton, Ont. So, if I tell any lies 
in this paper it's done out "of pure cussedness," not to 
enhance the merits of my own property. 
I first met Old Hook this way: One October afternoon 
in '87 I had walked with my gun over to a large and good 
woodcock cover about two miles from the little town of 
Picton, Prince Edward county, Ont. I remember I had 
no dog with me, having just lost an old favorite, and not 
yet having had time to get a new animal properly broken. 
In that cover at that time, however, the woodcock and 
ruffed grouse were quite plentiful — much more so than 
they are now, more's the pity — and it was quite possible to 
get a few without a dog, though of course it was a crip- 
pled sort of business doing so. 
I hadn't been five minutes in the cover when I heard a 
tremendous honking and the strange continuous conver- 
sation-like cackle and gabMe that always proclaim the 
approach of a large flock of wild geese. I was in thick 
cover, and when I saw the flock coining right toward me 
—and a mighty big flock it was, not 50yds, up — I thought, 
as I rapidly changed my No. 8 shot cartridges for a couple 
of BBs, that I was going to persuade one or two of them 
to come down and accompany me home. To my utter 
disgust, when they came within about a 150yds. of me, 
the big flock without apparent rhyme or reason wheeled 
with a loud outburst of alarmed clamor and made off to 
the southeast. In another moment I knew why, for I 
heard voices and saw approaching Jim Soby and W. P. 
Reynolds, another sporting friend of mine. They were 
accompanied by Old Hook, then a puppy of two years, 
and out, as I discovered afterward, for his first real hunt. 
As they came on I walked up a brace of woodcock. The 
one that rose first went outside the cover, and at the re- 
port of my gun it dropped" close to Reynolds, who play- 
fully put it in his bag and said nothing to me about it till 
the day's shooting was over. We knew each other so 
well that these little jokes didn't count. 
I had a little black retriever, a very clever dog, who 
used to steal Jim Soby's birds whenever he got a chance 
and bring them to me, but as Kipling would say, "That's 
another story." The other woodcock flew in up the cover, 
but I got a fair chance at him and saw him fall. I called 
out to Soby that the bird was down, and he said, "Let 
me bring the puppy there and see if he'll point him. It'll 
be a good lesson for him." In another moment Hook 
passed me. Even then, when nothing but a puppy, he 
was solidly and strongly built, noticeably so, and had a 
remarkably broad, sagacious-looking head. He went on 
toward the fallen bird, working as steadily as a 6-year-old. 
About half-way to where the bird fell he suddenly devi- 
ated to the right, and before Soby or I could speak to him 
drew up and came to as good and steady a point as I ever 
saw. 1 walked up to him and away went the woodcock 
he was pointing. I had a beautiful chance at him and 
killed him easily. Soby called out, "You got him, any- 
way." Meanwhile Hook, without being told, drew toward 
the dead bird and pointed it. After picking this bird up, 
we cast the dog toward the place where the bird first 
killed fell. He found this bird in less than two minutes 
and pointed him beautifully. As we picked the bird up I 
said to Soby, "If he keeps this sort of thing up you've got 
a wonder in that puppy." This was the one occasion in 
my life when I turned out to be a prophet, and I am im- 
mensely proud of it, for the dog did turn out a wonder. 
All the rest of that day he hunted as steadily and well as 
any well-trained old dog, and did two very clever things 
which older dogs, and good ones too, might easily have 
missed doing. A woodcock flushed wild in a small bit of 
detached cover. Soby and Reynolds both fired after him 
at long range. The bird was evidently hit, but kept on 
toward the main cover. As Hook was racing at full speed 
over an old barren field, which lay between us and the 
cover, he suddenly tried to stop himself, turned com- 
pletely over, got up and came to a dead point. When we 
came up there was the hit woodcock within 2ft. of his 
nose. 
Later on he came to a point in the middle of a dense 
bit of thicket. Soby and Reynolds were with him. I was 
a little way off to the right. Soby called to me to "Come 
on," that "the dog was on a point." As I approached a 
large rabbit (or, to apeak correctly, hare) bolted on Rey- 
nolds's side. He promptly fired, and turned bunny head 
over heels. I was turning back, when Soby called out 
again, "Come onl there's something in front of the dog 
yet. He hasn't stirred." Just then, probably at the 
sound of his voice, a fine woodcock flushed just in front 
of the pointer, and Soby cut him down nicely. Hook had 
never broken his point nor even turned his head at Rey- 
nolds's shot. Most judges will agree with me that this was 
wonderful steadiness, especially in so young a dog. 
I could tell dozens of stories of this fine old dog's subse- 
quent feats in the field during his useful and distinguished 
career, but one or two must suffice. Soby and I were 
shooting woodcock near a small stream called Trout Creek, 
in the same county. It was a bad place to shoot wood- 
cock, being mostly covered with thick broad cedar and 
balsam bushes up to the creek, with the dense tangled 
wall of the swamp forest rising on the other side of it. A 
bird had flushed and gone down near the creek, and I 
called Hook up to me. As the dog came, I was standing 
on the edge of a small opening, all long marsh grass and 
wild flowers, the close cedar brush behind me, the stream 
running swiftly in front, and just beyond the stream the 
high tangled mass of white birch, cedar and wild vines 
which marked the edge of the big swamp. When Hook 
got to the opening he began to crawl like a cat, went into 
the creek -m that fashion and halted in midstream, still on 
