898 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Not. 10, 1894. 
IN QUEST OF OUANANICHE. 
Let any one who is oppressed with "that tired feeling," 
which plays so important a part in the literature of 
modern advertisements, beware of patent medicines, and 
go to Saguenay River, where he will find Ponce de Leon's 
spring of youth. If the affected person does not return 
from that trip with a new lease of life, his malady must 
be a constitutional laziness which can only be cured in 
the next world. 
After a wearisome journey from Quebec, occupying 
the entire day, the traveler is landed at Roberval by the 
one train of which the Quebec & Lake St. John Railroad 
is the proud possessor. There is one parlor car, which 
does duty on the return trip as a sleeping car, and I have 
often wondered when the solemn faced solitary porter 
managed to get a wink of sleep, as he is almost constantly 
on the road. There is a very fine hotel at Roberval, 
where fishing parties are equipped with tents, provisions, 
etc, and where the last taste of civilization and cham- 
pagne is obtained. The trip across Lake St. John on the 
6teamer gives one a little idea of the glorious air which is 
to be our sovereign panacea for the woes of the tired man. 
At the Island House, the guides are in waiting, standing 
beside their canoes, in their picturesque costumes, which 
look like the pickings of some second-hand clothing em- 
porium. I selected two extremely villanous looking 
Kanucks, and after loading the canoes, we started down 
the river, en route for the camping ground on Isle Maline. 
The skill with which Thomas & Cie. steered the canoe 
through the rapids was simply marvellous. The scenery 
on that part of the Saguenay is wonderful; so wild and 
grand that one feels far removed from the humdrum of 
city life, and a sense of exultation at the beauty of nature 
takes possession of the tired man in the canoe. Every- 
thing seems more interesting by contrast, and the recol- 
lection of voyages on other rivers involuntarily Impresses 
on the traveler the grandeur of the Saguenay. A trip on 
the Bosporus in a caique is certainly enjoyable, the beau- 
tiful shores dotted with marble palaces and red topped 
Turkish houses impress you as being entirely harmonious 
and soothing; but the banks of the Saguenay as they slip 
by you, with their ever changing glimpses of forests and 
the fast receding islets and bold rocks, give you a much 
more poignant feeling of exhilaration and contentment. 
Portages are made 'around the more dangerous rapids, 
where a canoe would have no chance to live. Then the 
burly Thomas shouldered the canoe and started at a brisk 
pace along the difficult pathway, while son associe 
Joseph (called Spaghetti for short by a member of the 
party) put the baggage on his head and trotted along in 
the wake of his senior partner. Isle Maline is about eight 
miles from Lake St. John, and is surrounded by rapids, 
which make the approach in canoes extremely exciting. 
Pitching tents in a pouring rain, while the future occu- 
pants thereof are sitting on a log, clad in mackintoshes 
and shielded by leaky umbrellas, knocked some of the 
poetry out of the situation; but when the sun appeared the 
next morning in all its glory,, the trials and tribulations of 
the preceding night were forgotten. 
Ouananiche, or landlocked salmon, are exceedingly 
gamy and they certainly are blessed with a large amount 
of intelligence, which makes their capture very difficult. 
The flies which seemed to tempt them especially were 
Jock-Scotts and Seth-Greens. It is wonderful how these 
fish fight their way up against the rapids; they seem to be 
endowed with wonderful strength, even in adversity. 
The angler must go out equipped with high rubber boots, 
and his trusty guide or "heeler" must carry a strong 
landing net. When a good spot is found, generally near 
some rapid, the fisherman wades out to a rock, from 
which point of vantage his casts are made. If the ouan- 
aniche strikes the fly, a little coup (as the guides say) 
should be given to the rod, and then the struggle com- 
mences. The fish will generally start for the middle of 
the stream, then suddenly dart back and jump several 
feet out of the water, giving the line a smart whack with 
his tail. If the line is taut he will break the leader, unless 
you lower the rod as he leaves the water. If there hap- 
pens to be any convenient rock near by he will try to get 
under it. He is very ugly and spiteful, and you must 
watch him every second, or he will surely get away. It 
often takes from 25 to 30 minutes to bring one of the wily 
ouananiche near enough to enable the guide to reach it 
with the landing net. It is splendid sport, and when the 
angler is lucky enough to get a 4-pounder, the pleasure is 
very keen indeed. 
The guides are very interesting men, well worth a 
careful study. They are big, strong fellows, with hearts 
proportionate in size to their bodies, and an inborn sense 
of courtesy which is remarkable. They speak a queer 
sort of French which is very difficult to understand at 
first, but which is interesting from its originality. Few 
of them can read or write. They are willing to do any- 
thing for you, and seem to know just where the fish are 
lurking. Some days it is impossible to lure ouananiche 
from their hiding places, and often they will jump all 
about you and refuse to touch any kind of a fly. On a 
cloudy day, a yellow-May or scarlet-ibis may tempt them, 
or possibly, if you are fishing in the afternoon, a gray or 
light brown fly will be just the thing. It is almost use- 
less to fish in the rain, as the ouananiche will not rise. 
Time goes very rapidly up there on the Saguenay, and 
in the evenings, in place of opera, or the drama, you are 
entertained by the guides, who sing quaint little French 
songs, some of which remind the listener of Eastern mel- 
odies, while others are pretty little love songs. The men 
dance, with the big camp-fire as a background, all sorts 
of strange jigs and clogs, and often dressing themselves 
up, imitate the antics of a bear, or other animals, in the 
most lifelike manner. They are very quick in arranging 
for their performances, improvising costumes from the 
camping outfit with much dexterity, and further, seem 
to enjoy the show as much as the spectators. After a 
few days, they commenced to hum the airs of some of 
our college songs, and the accent which they gave to the 
words, set us in roars of laughter. 
There were some magnificent rapids close by the en- 
campment, which one never tired of watching. With a 
novel in hand, an afternoon would slip by very quickly in 
contemplation of those surging waters. The guides were 
good cooks, and as the appetites, of the campers were sure 
to be very keen, they were kept busy broiling fish, which 
is the principal article of diet. One never tires of the 
ouananiche; there is something very appetizing in the 
pinkish tinge. One of the guides recited his adventures 
with caribou to me in a manner which was made more 
interesting by the quaintness of his French. They lead a 
queer sort of roving life, and never seem to "trouble 
trouble until trouble troubles them." They can do any- 
thing, from acting as valet to steering a canoe, and what- 
ever they undertake, they do well. They are like children 
in their thankfulness for favors conferred, and the pres- 
ent of a jackknife produces a delirium of joy which* is 
manifested by cries and laughter of a truly wild tone. 
One of the men, who was a great-grandfather, told us 
many pleasant stories of the home life of his many de- 
scendants. Age had not dulled his strength, and his eye 
was just as quick as it used to be. I have seen one of the 
men lie on his back and lift another man weighing 1601bs. 
in the palms of his hands, and then stand up, holding his 
human burden high in the air. It is wonderful to see 
them crossing a rapid; they wait until the water is just 
right, then they make a bold dash for the other side, land- 
ing you safely, after a very exciting trip. 
We had four Indians who were very timid fellows, and 
who seldom even smiled. It was a, weird sight to watch 
those surly Indians, seated around a table, with pipes as 
ornaments to their solemn, strongly marked faces, wash- 
ing the camp dishes in silence, broken only by the occas- 
ional monosyllabic exclamation of the chief who was 
giving some order to the younger men. Washing dishes 
is as serious an affair to them as making treaties was to 
their ancestors. One of the Indians was a great favorite 
among the guides, who called him "La Jeunesse," as he 
was the pet of the crowd. As a general rule, however, 
the Indians kept apart from the Kanucks, sleeping in a 
separate tent, and being much of the time by themselves. 
They are quiet, inoffensive fellows who have a sad look 
and lack the animation and love of jollity of the 
Kanucks. The parting with these companions of our 
camping life at the Island House on Lake St. John, was 
really touching. They waved their brightly colored 
sashes at us and wished us "bon voyage," until the 
steamer had left them far behind. 
If anybody wishes a complete change of air in a beau- 
tiful spot, let him get a congenial party and go to some 
island like Isle Maliae on the Saguenay, where no tele- 
grams, telephones or evening newspapers ever penetrate, 
and from which he will return to his work refreshed, and 
with a fund of pleasant recollections which will cheer 
him up all through the winter. James E. Wheeler. 
DAYS AFIELD. 
Some time ago I heard a man remark, "The more I see 
of women the more I am in love with my wife, and the 
more I see of men the better I like my dog." 
For more than ten years my gun had remained in its 
case. Old Rover, a black setter, that for so many sea- 
sons was the companion of many a day's tramp after the 
Bob Whites from New Jersey to Georgia, and was at all 
times my most devoted admirer, has been long since 
"gathered to his fathers." And as the frost was begin- 
ning to show a little at my temples, I fancied that the old 
love had been pretty well gotten out of me when last fall 
the Professor insisted that I should join him on a three- 
days' trip to Maryland. 
The panic was on, had been on for five months. I had 
stuck to my desk every day, and it seemed as though the 
end had come to business and nothing was left but to 
worry, and fret, and chafe, and wonder how you would 
look offering twenty- five cents on the dollar. 
My wife joined the Professor. The old hammer gun 
was rubbed up, two dogs borrowed, and on a Thursday 
morning in November 3 o'clock found us on a lonely 
steamboat wharf* on the Eastern Shore. I won't describe 
those three days — I couldn't — I was eighteen again — and 
came home with the fever in my veins. 
I won't tell how much I have spent the past year for a 
hammerless gun and a pair of Gladstone pups — one by 
Breeze, the other by Sig. Gladstone — nor how much John 
Lewis is charging me for breaking the Breeze — Gladstone 
pup Rim, nor what he writes me about him, nor how I 
am counting the days to get off down there in North Caro- 
lina to see the puppies work. Mrs. B. may see this, and 
she will have too good an argument for a sealskin coat if 
I do. But I'm going if well enough. 
You don't know the Professor? Well, perhaps you 
do and don't know it. He's six feet one, big brained and 
bigger hearted, and the steady tramp of his long legs 
over fields, and mountains, and rocks, through swales 
and bogs, and swamps, would tire a mule. His quiet 
laugh and subtle wit, his thoughtfulness and fairness in 
shots, always ready to let you have more than half the 
bed when you are cramped for room (and you often are 
on a hunting trip), would just make you fall in love with 
him, and agree with him, that after all some men are 
better than most dogs. 
We have been off this year after ruffed grouse — pheas- 
ants they call them in Pennsylvania mountains, par- 
tridges in New England and New York. What a king of 
game birds he is. Does any one know another that can 
get on wing and away as quickly and that requires such 
tireless energy to hunt? 
Away up in Pike county, a glorious morning, three 
good dogs, Ben Hur and his hopeful son Ben Hadad with 
the Professor, Donald with me. Bartleson is waiting for 
us. Only he has to go and borrow a gun after we arrive. 
We are soon off, however, up through a piece of hemlock 
and no birds, up over the mountain, down again in a 
swale. I am going up an old road when suddenly Donald 
comes out in front of me and is "stiff." The birds are 
there under that bunch of chestnut saplings. I am on 
the wrong side, but the Professor is up on the hill above 
me. A step and that roar of wings, and the crack of the 
Professor's gun, another roar, another crack, still another, 
but evidently the Professor is putting in new shells; he is 
ready for the next, and the next. They are all out now 
and the dead are gathered in. I break through the 
thicket and go a little way when Donald once more 
"comes down" (he was just eleven months old that day), 
and up gets a bird. For the first time in my life I fire at 
a ruffed grouse. I am not quick enough. Bartleson says 
I hit him and that he fell about 30yds. off a little to the 
left. I think not and put in a new shell, and when 
Donald goes in, the way that bird comes out of those 
bushes shows that Bartleson is wrong. The first barrel 
cracks and still that bird is off. I am steadier now and 
the left barrel drops him. 
Did I say a moment ago that I was eighteen again? 
Well, I am fourteen now and school has just "let out." 
Oh! how I yell and jump and struggle through those 
briers and laurels, and what a hunt Donald and I have 
before that bird is stowed in my capacious pocket. 
Never was such a spring as the one we found to eat our 
lunch by; forgetting my wedding day, my first boy's first 
birthday, and some other days, I was going to say never 
was there such a happy day. I had some English dairy 
cheese and gave some to Bartleson; he remarked, "Golly, 
if a man had a little of that in each hand he could walk 
on the water," This amused the Professor, as he had 
some Roquefort; he invited Bartleson to have some of his 
cheese, "he might like it better," and putting a liberal 
piece on a slice of bread gave it to him. Bartleson §tarts 
in, looks up, looks silly, his eyes water, and you can see 
that the harder he chews the larger the "cud" becomes; 
finally he gulped it down with a shudder, and a"Ge-whiz, 
that would cure the catarrh." But he is a good fellow, 
and the Professor did not seem hurt at such a slighting 
remark about his food, so trouble was averted. 
I won't attempt the whole day. It is almost night and 
we are crossing a pretty swamp. The Professor remarks, 
"This looks like a promising place for woodcock." Bartle- 
son says that sometimes there are some there. I am 
across and out of it, calling for my dog. He don't come; 
I call to the Professor to call in his dogs and "Come on; 
it will soon be dark and we have a long drive and I am 
very tired." He replies, "Wait a moment," and then, "Oh, 
G orge, come here quick." Tired? No; I am in that 
thicket again, and there, right there in that little open 
glade is Ben Hur "down," and fully fifteen feet away is 
Donald, backing like a veteran. To the right is the Pro- 
fessor's shot, left mine. We step forward, and with that 
gently whistling-like rustle of wings away goes a wood- 
cock to the right, and I can see the blaze as the Profes- 
sor's gun cracks. Both dogs still stood firm. I stepped 
forward and away goes another, this time to the left. 
They are quickly gathered in, and as we leave the woods 
Bartleson says, "If I owned that pup I wouldn't take fifty 
dollars for him." I wonder what made the Professor 
smile at this? He don't know what he cost and I saw no 
necessity for saying "Neither would I." Poor old Rover. 
I like the pup, but I would rather have had you. 
We had ten ruffed grouse and two woodcock. 
As we drive home in the twilight we are tired, and 
hungry and happy. What a glorious day we have had. 
G. B. 
New York, Oct. 30. 
WOODLANDS. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Much is being said by men of good judgment through- 
out the country about preserving our forests in a measure, 
and increasing their areas in some sections where there is 
a scarcity of timber and firewood. Now, in my opinion 
it is the height of wisdom for the people, severally and 
jointly, to take action in a matter of so much importance, 
for that is a work that more or less interests nearly every 
person in the country. 
If we regulate the forests we also do the same for the 
streams, for in the economy of nature forests and streams 
are so generally connected, that if considerable tracts of 
one are destroyed the other will surely suffer in propor- 
tion. 
Let us take the closest view of the subject. If we 
ramble through any hilly woodland after a rain, we will 
notice one drop of water after another coursing along the 
little rootlets, fibers and leaves, and it will often continue 
dripping so for quite a while, sometimes in moist places 
for days afterward; so in this way the water is kept from 
floating off of the land in a body down the valleys, the 
rootlets, sticks and leaves acting together as a regulator 
of the drainage of the land. Then, again, one will often 
observe some rivulet running out of a moist place under a 
thick growth of timber and bushes. How clear it is, and 
how regular its volume of water throughout the year. 
Afterward, when the timber is cut off or burned up and 
the ground cleared, the little stream is gone during a 
greater part of the time, and when it does flow, what a 
volume of muddy water pours down its bed instead of the 
clear stream that sparkled there formerly. Then again 
many of us can recall to mind some larger stream drain- 
ing a considerable section of country, bow at one time it 
seemed to be full most of the year before the woodland at 
its sources had been cleared up, then afterward how irreg- 
ular the flow of the water was, according to the state of 
the weather. That shows that nature's regulators of the 
stream were gone. 
Now, the very law that governs these examples also 
governs every stream, large or small, throughout the 
once and now wooded portions of our country, which 
includes about all of the land east of the western prairies. 
So the people must regulate the forests at the sources of 
the streams, if they wish in a measure to control the 
volume of water in them, for the one follows the other as 
sure as effect follows cause. In helping to do it let the 
general government take the matter in hand, and on 
lands still owned by it preserve as much as possible the 
growth of wood, and appoint commissioners to have the 
general oversight of the business as well as to study the 
laws of painting, culture, growth and preservation of 
forests, and to recommend to the people the best methods 
to accomplish the desired ends. It would be of a much 
greater practical value to the people than will many of 
the laws now enacted. Then let the legislatures of the 
several States take action in the matter by buying up the 
cheap mountain sections and waste lands, as for instance 
the Adirondack region in New York State, and forbid the 
cutting of timber on them except under certain restric- 
tions. By so doing the water in the streams of those 
sections would not diminish in volume, and besides the 
value of property, both public and private, would be in- 
creased, to say nothing of the natural parks, camping 
grounds, hunting and fishing tracts, and breathing places 
generally that those lands would make for the people. 
Also a great deal might be accomplished throughout the 
country by individual efforts, that is, if many of the land 
owners, especially those living in partly denuded sections, 
would take enough interest in the matter to plant trees 
and to preserve the old growth, if any, by a judicious 
cutting out, and also by taking care of the sprout lands 
and young timber, for on any land where wood sprouts 
quickly but a few years will suffice to cover the ground 
with a thick growth of it, provided fires and cattle are 
kept out, especially when the trees a.re very young. 
Arbor Day should be one of the leading holidays 
