Deo. 22, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
8 3 S 
A WEEK WITH THE GRAYLING. 
In Two Parts— Part Two. 
I did not sleep much that first night in camp. My bed 
was comfortable; the mosquitoes, kept back by the nett- 
ing across the entrance to the tent, could not get at me; 
but I had not slept in a tent for years, and the novelty of 
the situation kept me awake for some hours. I lay and 
listened to the voices of the night, most prominent and 
least musical of which were those certain sounds pro- 
duced by sleeping man when lying upon his back with 
his mouth open. More pleasing was the gentle murmur 
of the creek, the ceaseless chirp of the crickets and the 
mournful call of the whippoorwills I heard the horses 
munching their hay, the hoot of a distant owl, the hoarse 
croaking of a frog and the splash that he made as he 
sprang into the water. A louder splashing was made, no 
doubt, by a mink, engaged at his old trick of poaching 
the grayling. Once I heard the blood-curdling cry of a 
lynx in the thick woods on the top of the hill, opposite, as 
he pounced down upon some unwary rabbit or dozing 
partridge. That crashing in the bushes was made by a 
prowling bear, or a deer on his way to the creek to drink. 
At last I fell asleep. 
When I opened my eyes it was broad daylight, but my 
companions were still sleeping soundly and I stole out of 
the tent without disturbing them. The horses got up 
from the ground and shook themselves, and I threw them 
an armful of hay, then slipped on my mackintosh wad- 
ing boots and went down to the creek. The sun was just 
showing itself above the bluff back of the grove, and the 
birds were hailing its appearance with their wildest songs. 
Rigging a cast of flies, 
professor for stretcher, 
cowdung for first drop- 
per, and coachman for 
the second, I soaked 
my fly until it was pli- 
able and then waded 
into the creek until the 
water was waist deep, 
and made my first cast 
into the pool at the foot 
of the rollway. The 
flies had hardly touched 
the water when there 
was a rise to the pro- 
fessor. I struck, but 
too late. Again and 
again the flies went out, 
every second or third 
cast provoking a rise, 
now to one fly, now to 
another; but the result 
was always the same. 
I could not hook the 
lively fish that seized 
and rejected the lure 
before I knew it. 
This may appear 
strange to the angler 
who has never cast a 
fly for grayling, but 
not to the old grayling 
fisher. The grayling 
takes the fly differently 
from the trout. The 
trout rushes for it, often 
leaping out of the water 
in his eagerness to seize 
it, thus giving the eye 
a chance to inform the 
brain and the brain to 
direct the wrist to 
strike; while the gray- 
ling rises swiftly and 
silently, straight up- 
ward from the bottom, 
rather sucking the fly 
in than seizingit bodily, 
and seldom showing 
any part of itself above 
the water. The smaller 
fish, however, will often 
leap entirely over the 
fly without attempting 
to touch it, seemingly 
in a spirit of play. After a time they began to show that 
trick to me, acting for all the world as though they were 
playing leap-frog No sooner did my leader strike the 
water than two or three of them would turn a somersault 
over it, one after another, but never seizing the flies, 
though they sometimes fell upon the leader and fooled 
me for an instant into thinking that I had had a strike. 
Now, I profess to be a patient man, patient in angling 
at any rate, but I must confess that I became irritated 
after a few minutes' experience of their monkeyshines. I 
tried several different flies, with no success, yet the fish 
continued to flip out of the water all around me, even 
breaking almost under my nose. It really began to look 
as though their saltatory performances were intended to 
show their contempt for me. There were plenty of May 
flies floating on the surface which they would snap right 
alongside my imitation fly, but they paid not the least 
attention to them. It was exasperating, and I was silly 
enough to lose my temper, casting with much unneces- 
sary vigor and striking viciously whenever a tail, striking 
the leader, deluded me into the belief that I had a rise. 
At last I snapped off a fly, and just then I heard a sup- 
pressed snicker on the shore behind me. Whirling quickly 
about, there stood my three friends at a safe distance 
from the flies in their backward flight, laughing at me. 
•'Mighty poor marksmen, those grayling, eh?" snickered 
Ryun, "I think the trouble is that you don't use force 
enough!" jeered Wesson. "If you would only lash the 
water into a foam and show the fish that there was some- 
thing there for breakfast, they might bite." 
Assuming an air of dignity, I faced the creek and made 
another cast. Shades of Walton I A strike 1 I struck, 
and instantly a small silvery object went sailing over the 
heads of my tormentors and landed in some bushes far 
back in the grove. My leader went with it. The roar 
that went up from those three silenced the birds and so 
frightened my other tormentors in the water that they 
ceased their flipping. A moment 1 stood gazing stupidly 
after the poor grayling, then the absurdity of the situa- 
tion burst upon me, and I joined in the laugh at my own 
expense. Instead of grayling for breakfast that morning, 
as I had fondly hoped, we had dried brief; but there was 
plenty of fun in which I joined as best I could. 
I think that I mentioned last week that my acquaint- 
ance with the grayling had been limited, up to that time. 
That this experience of mine is no fancy sketch any old 
grayling fisher will know at once, and understand the 
whys and wherefores. He has probably been through 
an experience similar himself. In passing I will say that, 
later in the season, I took with me to that same stream 
an old trout fisherman, an expert fly-caster, who had 
never tried his hand for grayling. I started to give him 
some "pointers," but he seemed so self-satisfied that I de- 
sisted and let him learn for himself. I had a good deal 
of quiet fun in watching him fish the same pool I had 
fished. He put on the same flies I had put on. I told 
him so much as that — and there are none better so far as 
my experience goes — but, like mine, they were too large 
on a No. 6 hook, when they should have been No. 12. 
He kept his line taut and his flies on the top of the water, 
skittering them constantly, as I had done. He got rises, 
and did not know it until too late. The little jumpers 
played leap-frog over his leader. He got "warm under 
the collar," the perspiration rolled down his face, but no 
fish rewarded his frantic efforts, Finally he turned and 
remarked to me in sarcastic tones, "I thought you told 
me that grayling were savage biters. I think they are 
the poorest marksmen I ever saw." Those were Ryan's 
own words to me a month before. I let him "gang his 
own gait" for half a day. At noon I returned to camp 
with a basket full of nice fish, having taken it easy, while 
he had a few miserable little things that he ought to have 
MICHIGAN GRAYLING. 
Amateur photo by F. A. Mitchell. 
been ashamed to keep, and was thoroughly tired out and 
disheartened. His chagrin when he saw my catch was 
exceedingly gratifying to me, remembering his patroniz- 
ing airs of the early morning, when I had attempted to 
tell him the little I knew of the grayling's- ways. After 
dinner he was perfectly willing to go to school and. proved 
so apt a pupil that he nearly eclipsed his teacher. But to 
return. 
When breakfast was over Arnold said, "Now, boys, 
bring the old man of the party. I shall take an old man's 
privilege and go down stream. Our tenderfoot visitor 
had better go with me, and I will give him a few points " 
I was glad to hear this, for I had begun to realize that 
I needed a few lessons in grayling fishing. Wesson and 
Ryan started off at once up stream, and we were left to 
ourselves. Producing his fly book, Arnold took from it 
several papers of new flies and handed them to me. 
"There," said he, "those are the proper thing; yourflies 
are all too big for grayling." 
They were beautiful little midgets, tied on No. 12 Sproat 
hooks, with reversed wings. 
"Now," he continued, "small flies require a fine leader 
and a fine leader requires a fine line; let's see what you 
have." 
I found the requisite articles, and while I was rigging 
up my new outfit Arnold jointed up a long and rather 
stiff rod and produced from the wagon a wooden box in 
which there was a goodly supply of angle worms. "I am 
sorry to say," said he, "that I am almost reduced to the 
necessity of becoming a 'bait fisherman,' one of those 
contemptible fellows that the writers on angling regard 
with such disfavor. I am very near-sighted and cannot 
use the fly- rod unless the day be dark and the water free 
from glare." He sighed and looked pensive for a 
moment. "Now, then, are you ready? Just step right 
in there where you were this morning. You fished that 
pool then as you have been accustomed to fish for trout, 
casting into the swift water at its head where you will 
find that only the small grayling lies. The big ones are 
at the lower end where the current Blackens and eddies, 
bringing their food right into their mouths. The big 
grayling are lazy fellows. Cast your flies just beyond 
that patch of circling foam and I think you will get a 
good one. Let the stretcher fly sink a little, but be sure 
to keep your line taut. The big grayling never miss their 
mark, like those little fellows; when they go for anything, 
it is their meat." 
I did as he directed, dropping my flies just above the 
patch of foam indicated and allowing the eddy to carry 
them beneath it. Instantly there came a solid tug on the 
line and I struck gently, knowing well that the fish must 
have hooked himself. Out of the water he came, once, 
twice, three times, then down to the bottom. The flight 
was sharp but short. The grayling makes a grand 
struggle for a minute or two, but he loses his courage 
quickly and is the easiest of game fishes to land when 
once he has given up. But his mouth is exceedingly 
delicate, and he must be played gingerly to prevent the 
hook from tearing out. I soon had the head of my prize 
above the surface and towed him gently to the shore; his 
great dorsal fin held erect and offering such resistance to 
the current that he came in with a weaving motion 
peculiar to the grayling, owing to the curvature of the 
dorsal. Arnold at once weighed him on his pocket scale. 
"Pound and a quarter, strong," he announced; "Now, my 
boy, step up and admire your first grayling." And my 
admiration was genuine and found expression in terms 
that appeared to satisfy my mentor. 
While not as brilliant in hue as the brook trout nor 
showing such contrasting colors, the grayling is a more 
shapely fish, and is very handsome when fresh from the 
water. It is a scale fish and its colors are as evanescent 
as they are delicately 
beautiful. Its body is 
a silvery gray along the 
sides, darker toward 
the back bone, lighter 
toward the belly, the 
lower portion of the 
sides faintly tinged 
with delicate shades of 
pink and green, which 
quickly fade away. 
The great dorsal is pris- 
matic, and is dotted 
with small black spots. 
The same spots appear 
back of the gill covers. 
The ventrals are beauti- 
fully striped, and the 
caudal is iridescent. It 
has the adipose fin, 
characteristic of the 
salmon family. Its 
head is smaller than 
that of the trout, and 
more elegantly shaped. 
The eyes are of a golden 
color, large and prom- 
inent, and the whole 
expression of the head 
is singularly attractive. 
Thaddeus Norris once 
said: "When I look in- 
to a grayling's eye, I 
am sorry I killed it; 
but that feeling never 
prevents me from mak- 
. ing another cast, just to 
see if another will rise." 
I took two more nice 
fish from beneath the 
circling foam, and after 
that I could not get 
another rise. Arnold 
waded out and took one 
with his baited hook, 
which weighed nearly 
a pound and a half. 
The largest fish are in- 
variably taken with 
bait. 
What is more eniov- 
able than fishing a 
pretty stream on a 
pleasant day, with an 
. . . . . ... ... unselfish companion 
close by to rejoice with one m his successes and condole 
• with one in his misfortunes. Wading down the middle 
of that clear stream, often keeping my feet with difficulty 
in the strong current; casting my flies right and left 
now on dancing rips sparkling in the sun, and again on 
some deep and quiet pool shaded by arching trees over- 
head, assisted by much information and advice from my 
friend, who was always near me, beaming benignantly 
through his glasses white he talked. I constantly rejoiced 
over my good fortune in being there. The dreams of 
my "fireside angling" were at last realized, and there 
was no disappointment in the realization. For once 
anticipation did not prove better than the reality. 
The creek averaged about 10yds. in width, broadening 
and shallowing in the stretches, narrowing and deepening 
around the bends. The bottom was yellow sand and 
very free from obstructions, all fallen trees and brush 
being removed by the annual log drive in the spring. In 
places the clay substratum was washed bare and was as 
hard and slippery as a piece of wet castile soap, making 
the footing exceedingly precarious; but, warned in time 
by Arnold, who knew the locations of such spots, I 
escaped a ducking. My wading boots come well up over 
my chest, and it would be no joke to fall down and get 
them full of water. 
It would have been impossible to fish that stream from 
the banks, which were heavily clothed with water elms 
swamp maples and white cedars in the swamps. There 
was a thick and almost impenetrable undergrowth of 
bushes and running vines which we had to cut our way 
through with our knives when we were forced to take to 
the shore by a pool too deep to wade. 
The grayling were in a biting mood and we had good 
sport. In the rips I sometimes reeled in two and three at 
a time, but very many of them were under a quarter 
pound in weight — that was our self-imposed minimum— 
and were returned to the water. The pools at the bends 
however, yielded fine fish, the bait always beating the 
fly in the size caught. Arnold used a heavy sinker and 
ran big feppk close by the sides of sunken logs, apd into 
