Sept. 29, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
269 
weight. J. B. H. got over his boots in the ice-cold bog, 
and vowed we should have no more to do with trout. 
And then, another day, we went over and visited once 
more tbat lovely little sheet of water hid among the hills 
about a mile from our camp and known now as Craig's 
Lake. This lake was bought not long ago by Mr. A. H. 
Craig, the superintendent of the county schools. I told 
last year how he was good enough to give our little party 
a special dispensation allowing us to fish in these private 
waters. It was here that the Chief -with-Two-Stomachs 
caught the 6lbs. 2oz. bass which last year tied the Nat- 
chaug record for big-mouths. Since our success there, 
marauding parties of senseless fishermen had made Mr. 
Craig so much trouble that he bad strictly posted the 
lake; but when he learned that J. B. H. was again in 
Mukwonago, he softened his heart, told us to take our 
boat over and fish all we liked, and even one evening 
came with his wife and had a boat ride, taking home with 
them the biggest bass his little lake had yielded for this 
year. 
It was a sigular thing about this bass. We only fished 
Craig's Lake two evenings, each time getting a nice bas- 
ket of bass, but nothing over 31bs. the first evening. 
On that evening we tried with especial care the edge of 
the rushes on the far side of the lake, and as we passed 
here I had a savage strike at the little casting spoon and 
small frog, but the fish broke away after a vicious run 
into the lilies. We marked this spot down carefully, and 
in about three-quarters of an hour came around again. 
J. B. H. was using a big fat frog of most engaging person- 
ality, and he had it all figured out just how he was going 
to nail that fish if he raised him again. Well, we raised 
him all right, but J. B. H. didn't do just the way he had 
figured on doing. The fish struck with such surprising 
fury that it disconcerted even so old an angler, and 
instead of letting him run off with the line and swallow 
the frog later on, J. B. H. unthinkingly put his thumb 
on the reel and tried to check the fish as he started for 
the lily pads. There was a great surging swirl, an eddy 
made by we knew not what, and that was all. The 
slender silk line had parted, thanks to our neglect in not 
examining and reversing it on the reel. 
"Oh, blame it all!" said J. B. H., in great distress, 
"that's too bad." We both sat looking at the circling 
swirl in the water. At length J. B. H.'s naturally cheer- 
ful disposition got the better of his gloom. 
"That was no bass, young man," said he. "That was 
nothing but an old pickerel, and it was a big one, too. 
I'm sure it would weigh 10 or 12lbs. at least. It didn't 
run like a bass " But I had seen the gleam of the fish 
which had struck my bait near there, and knew it was a 
great bass, and thought that J. B. H. had lost the chance 
of his trip to land a big one, one of our old-time sort. 
Over this I was disconsolate. 
The next evening we were skirting along exactly the 
opposite shore of the lake over water which we had never 
found very good for fish. I was casting the same little 
spoon which had had the honor of so many strikes the 
day before, using a sinker to get it down in the water, 
for I fancied the bass were not rising well. At once I 
felt a heavy, surging strike, away down deep in the 
water. It bent my tip down, and J\ B. H. cried, "Hit 
him; strike bim quick." We had already learned that 
while with big frogs the only way to hook the fish was to 
wait till the "second run," with the spoon and small frog 
the fish was nearly always lost unless we struck at the mo- 
ment the fish touched the bait. I think they strike at the 
middle of the whole gleaming object, which, figuring 
from the spoon to the end of the small frog's legs, brings 
their upper jaw about where the point of the hook is, 
when the spoon stops moving they let go. Anyhow I 
promptly socked the hook into this creature's anatomy as 
hard as I could, thereby making much submarine commo- 
tion. 
"I've got a big pickerel this time, sure," I said. "See 
how deep he runs, and how far." And then at once I 
had to shout to Ben to pull out into the deep water, for 
the fish started for the boat in a most determined rush. 
We could not see him or tell what his nationality, and 
out in that deep, clear lake, with not a thing to mar the 
fight of rod and fish, we for six or eight minutes had a 
surging, swinging, tugging, worrying fight, one of the 
hardest I ever saw in these waters. At length the line 
began to come in more easily, and I saw the fish was 
going to break. With a great shake of his wide jaws he 
went out, and three joyful shouts announced our joy. It 
was a big bass! Four times more he tried this same risky 
maneuver, but 'the hook held, and at length we got him 
in the net. As we lifted him into the boat, we saw a bit 
of silk gut sticking out of his mouth, and there, deep in 
his throat, we found the very identical hook which J. B. 
H. had lost in his "big pickerel" of the night before. 
There was no mistaking the hook, and no longer any 
mistaking of the fish, which had given us two and possi- 
bly three game chances and only yielded at the last after 
a thoroughbred fight, which made us think more of big- 
mouths. The usual reason why big- mouths seem not to 
fight better is that they are taken in weedy waters. The 
drag of the line on the vegetation tires them as much as 
the rod does. Get them in clear, deep water, and it is a 
different proposition. 
The taking of this bass disturbed my preconceived 
notions about bass habits. I always thought these big 
fellows lay around in pretty much the same place all the 
time, but this fellow was just as far away as he could get 
from the scene of h is yesterday's hostilities. 
We thought our bass would weigh at least 5lbs., though 
singularly slim and lean, but Mr. Craig told us it only 
weighed 4lbs. 4oz. in town, so it wasn't so very big after 
all; not nearly so big as several we got the next day we 
went out, and not anything like the equal of our biggest 
one. 
I can not tell all about the pleasant days we spent in 
thus prowling around in the out-of-way corners of this 
pleasant country, allowing things to go as they pleased, 
and not working hard at anything. But at length the 
time came when J. B. H. began to get uneasy after a day 
with the big bass. There came a windy, rough, cloudy 
day, which kept all the Jew salesmen indoors at the big 
hotel. It only started us out post haste for certain favorite 
waters of which we wot. J. B. H. and Ben were ahead. 
In half an hour I joined them. As I came up they 
shouted, and held aloft a monster bass the largest bass I 
ever saw weighed out of these waters, though not, I think, 
so large as the one J. B, H. caught but did not weigh the 
first year we came up to Mukwonago. 
"Well, you've got ajfive-pounder," I called, hurrying up 
At that moment the old fellow wriggled and spread out 
his gills full width, and I thought I had never seen the 
like. J. B. H. smiled happily. "He weighs just six and 
three-quarters," said he. And so the pocket scales said. 
Yet two days after, in Chicago, on the fine silk scale of 
the Natchaug Silk Co. , the same bass weighed more than 
6|lbs. and I think 71bs. I think proper weighing would 
have set the weight at over 71bs. the first day, for bass 
lose weight fast after capture. On our pocket scales he 
actually weighed Of lbs. full, a few minutes after he was 
taken. The weighing operation he resented by a vast 
shake, which set him free, he falling out of hand in the 
shallow water, where had his dense big-mouth brain taken 
action he could have swum away. But Ben plunged 
into the water after him, and was lucky enough to hale 
him forth a second time, 
For after all it was Ben, our camp protege, who caught 
the biggest bass of our trip and very likely the biggest of 
the season. Ben was using my rod and reel, and that 
same contemptible looking little spoon with a meager 
frog on the end of it. He made just one cast to the edge 
of a bed of grass and reeds. Out from under the hol- 
low bank shot a dark form, and Ben, remembering 
our counsel, struck when he felt the first shock of the 
fish. And then, I well opine, did that old mon- 
arch bass wish he had let strange things alone, for 
such a stretching of the neck and general hustling about 
I imagine no bass ever had before. In the creek, below 
the mill, Ben had lost a great small-mouth, for his stiff 
cane pole had broken the hook square off in the mouth of 
the unfortunate fish. But now the languid, willowy 
action of my old rod — a played-out lancewood, which 
always has the luck to get the big bass, having landed the 
record fish of last year and a dozen others of over 51bs. — 
allowed no sudden strain to break the tackle. Ben tugged 
desperately up, the old rod going into a horseshoe, but 
staying together. The bass went out of water three 
times, heavily, not being built for athletics of the sort, 
and each time Ben thought, so he said, that he could have 
jumped into his mouth. All the time the boy was calling 
to J. B. H., and the latter soon had the monster in the 
landing net, after a fight which was short and eminently 
discouraging to the bass, who was corpulent and not used 
to violent physical exertion. 
And then we went our ways, much excited, and Ben, 
with a rope and a chain stringer both passed through both 
lips of his great fish, resolved to take no more chances 
with it, and frightened if it flopped its tail. 
We met even more than our usual luck in our quest for 
big bass, and J. B, H. nearly equaled Ben's catch that 
day. He killed ten bass in the evening, four of which 
weighed 16£lbs., one SJlbs., two 51bs. each even, and the 
rest hardly one under 31bs. These were actual weights, 
not guesses, and bass actually so heavy rarely come into 
any boat so often in any one day, in any water in the 
country. "We have had our sport," said J. B. H. "Now 
I am ready to go home." 
Having more bass than we could use, we took them over 
to the Phantom Inn and gave them to Dr. Ennis's folks for 
use on the hotel table. The entire place was in a flutter 
as we lugged the enormous string up from the landing. 
"My chracious!" said the Sheeny salesmen, as Ben laid 
down his big one. "Vere you getch 'im? Vat you got 'im 
mit?" And smilingly we told them that we caught this 
bass out in the grass, chased it up a tree, and finally killed 
it with a club. "I go me out to-morrow by that same 
blace," said one of them, irrelevantly. And on the mor- 
row every boat at the hotel was rented. 
But it would do our friend of Israel no good to go him 
out by the same place, even if he knew where the same 
place was, which he doesn't. The big bass will wait now 
till next year, when J. B. H. comes again. They always 
wait for him. Perhaps then we will have another head 
to add to the preserved head of the big bass Mr. Stanton, 
manager of the Natchaug Silk Co, here, now has of the 
Forest and Stream bass of 1894— a bass which I doubt 
not even now causes commotion in youthful circles in 
Waukesha, For Ben's sake, I hope the bass wins the $25 
prize. 
"I never saw a bass like it," said Mr. Stanton, "never in 
all my life." 
I rarely have either, if indeed ever. And after all, it is 
very likely that 1895 will see the fifth annual Camp Forest 
and Stream go to the shores of Phantom, in the land of 
Mukwonago; tor though there may be better places for 
us, we do not know where they are. We know the oaks, 
and the grass, and the water, and we know the secrets of 
the bass, whom may beneficent Nature always shield 
from the sons of Israel and preserve for men who only 
want a few. E. Hough. 
909 Security Building, Chicago. 
Progress of the Rail Season. 
The rail season opened with much promise and more 
birds than usual were reared on near-by marshes. It did 
not take very long, however, for the gunners to kill off 
these birds, and as the weather has been so warm very 
few migratory birds came from the North during the first 
half of September to take the place of those which had 
been killed. The two days' storm of last week brought 
on quite a flight, however, and as the tides were good a 
great many birds were killed. Reports from the Hacken- 
sack meadows give boats of from 15 to 37 birds in a tide, 
as the following scores show: Dr. Curry 37, ex-Senator 
Griggs of Paterson 30, W. F. Ryle 31, G. W. Van Buskirk 
30, W. Cronkhite 25 and George Seiss 28. Mr. Van Bus- 
kirk secured a king rail, but whether it was a salt-water 
marsh hen or one of the gallinules is not stated. 
Preston, Conn., Sept. 21. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
The rail season is here and these toothsome little birds are 
quite plentiful in this vicinity. J. R. Robbins, ex-Game 
Warden of Norwich, and A. F. Hale of New London, 
were on the marshes along the Connecticut River Tues- 
day, and on one tide bagged 174 birds; 100 birds went to 
Mr. Robbins and the remainder to his campanion. 
Smaller bags are often reported but it is doubtful if Mr. 
Robbins's bag of 100 birds on one tide is beaten this sea- 
son. E. M. Brown. 
Prairie Chickens. 
Kecknt reports received by the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Rail- 
way from stations in the prairie chicken country of Minnesota and 
South Dakota all indicate a prospect of the best hunting for years. 
Chickens are very plentiful and in fine condition. Duck shooting 
prospects are also good. Full information can be had by addressing 
Ticket Agent, Chicago, Milwaukee & St, Paul Railway, 207 Clark street, 
Chicago.— Adv. 
TEXAS AND THE SOUTHWEST. 
At the present writing (Sept. 17) a norther is on and a 
great many blue- wing teal have been on the wing for the 
past week. One party killed sixty to two guns, another 
thirty-five to two guns, and reports from all the lagoons 
in this region show that the web-foot paddlers are at 
work in the shallow feeding grounds. 
All Females in the Fall. 
If any one should stop and take notice of it he would 
find that the plumage of the blue-wing drake does not 
develop until late in the winter. I have seen a blue-wing 
drake in the fall, that is, to know the bird's gender by 
his plumage. They all look alike until the latter part of 
November, when the bright feathers come out on the 
drakes. 
Moody's Rice Farm 
Is in full blast. The single strand of wire fence has been 
rescued from the mud wherein it has lain all summer, the 
"Keep oud of dis field" signs doubled in number and the 
Colonel expects to ornament the rice cane with neat glass 
designs bearing the dread "Keep off the grass" legend- 
for fear that some sportsmen might invade the sacred 
precincts of the canvasback rice farm. 
The hired duck assassins are also brushing up their big 
10 and 8 gauges and putting in big supplies of black pow- 
der and shot, anticipating a rich harvest off the canvas- 
back crop. 
Three Kinds of Quail. 
There are three kinds of quail in southwest Texas. My 
friend Jacob Staff of Marshall, Texas, will never call our 
Texas Bob White a quail, however, as he always insists 
that it is a partridge, because as he says, of its migratory 
habits. That our Bob White migrates, there is no doubt, 
for where they were once very plentiful four years ago, 
they have been exceedingly scarce during the past three 
seasons, but they are returning in large numbers this 
year. Where they go or where they come from is un- 
known. One thing is certain that the localities wherein 
quail have been the most plentiful during the past three 
years' drouth are the sandy distiricts. The black lands 
were entirely deserted and the birds could only be found 
where the sand is deep and red. 
Five years ago the writer came across the Massena quail 
in Edwards county. The bird is fully twice as large as 
the ordinary Virginia quail, and the dark plumage is re- 
sponsible for the appellation of '• 'black quail" which the 
natives have given it. It is the gamiest bird I have ever 
seen, lying very close to a dog. Upon putting up a coyey, 
which is never more than ten birds, they pitch near a 
stunted oak, and you will instantly conclude that the 
birds have made for cover, but you will be astonished to 
find that they are lying close to the rocks in the open and 
not seeking cover like the Bob White. 
The blue quail is the meanest thing on earth. It is quite 
a good table bird, but nature has provided it with ex- 
tremely long legs and short wings. If you are a good 
racer, you probably will find that they have wiugs, other- 
wise not. 
A "Sportsman's" Seine. 
I don't know how true it is, but I have it from fairly 
reliable source, that a San Antonio sportsman who is 
wealthy enough to own a yacht and who keeps it on the 
coast, has a long 300ft. seine thereon, which is put to 
practical use occasionally. While there may not be much 
harm in drawing a seine in the Gulf of Mexico, I contend 
that the presence of that seine on the sportsman's yacht 
looks badly. 
Stop the Sale of Game. 
The war cry adopted by Forest and Stream meets with 
general approval here. Nearly every member of every 
club has expressed his approval of the idea. It is a good 
and grand one. It is comprehensive, and I really believe 
is the only way to actually and effectively protect game. 
Of course, it don't suit the pot-hunter. It isn't supposed 
to suit him, nor will it suit any individual who prefers to 
shoot game during the close seasons. 
Another Outrage. 
This time it is near Boerne, about thirty miles from 
San Antonio. An intelligent farmer living near there 
had noticed a buck and doe and two fawns come up to 
his water tank nearly every evening. He had his eye on 
the buck and thought he would wait until the velvet had 
worn off its antlers ere he sent forth the deadly bullet. 
He intended to kill it later on in the season when the 
whether got cold. But in an unguarded moment he told 
a "butcher" about it, one of those small-souled, narrow- 
minded and self-dominated men whom you would de- 
light in throttling. He awaited the coming of the deer 
at the water's edge and fired two buckshot cartridges at 
the doe. It hobbled away, hard hit, but the "butcher" 
didn't find the carcass. The humane farmer found it the 
next evening, stone dead, and the two fawns lying by 
their dead mother, endeavoring to draw nourishment 
from the udder that hung cold m death. Another nice 
picture for the hunter out of season to contemplate. 
A Blsr Tarpon. 
State Senator Perry J. Lewis has again distinguished 
himself by capturing an immense tarpon at Corpus 
Christi. The big silver king measures 7ft. 4in., and 
weighed nearly 1601bs. It has been mounted and pre- 
sented by Mr. Lewis to the popular general manager of 
the Aransas Pass Railway, Col. M. D. Monserrate, who 
has placed it in his office for exhibition. Col. Monserrat 
will send the big 'un to the Cotton Palace at Waco, which 
opens next month. O. C. G. 
[Nebraska Notes. 
Grafton, Neb., Aug. 29.— Editor Forest and Stream. 
A party of six shooters left here yesterday going overland 
for the sand hills in the vicinity of Hyannis and Whit- 
man with the intention of killing grouse or anything else, 
"as they say," for the market. There is a cold storage 
house at Hyannis and the owner offers large inducements 
for such men to come there and kill for market. 
Mr. Editor, just stick another spike in that "Stop the 
sale of game" platform for me. 
Chickens are scarce in this vicinity, but Bob White is 
ctefound most anywhere. There is a covey that stays 
in the city park, and one can hear the call "Bob White" 
at any time in the day. No fish to speak of are being 
taken from the Blue, as the seiners got in their work last 
spring and practically cleaned the river of anything that 
would stay in the seine, Diamond Walt, 
