[Aug. 8, 1896. 
BLACK BASS IN LAKE IDA. 
ST. Paul, Minn. — It is said that the anticipation is 
nineteen-twentiethe of the sport and this in many cases is 
no doubt true. Perhaps it is tliis very anticipation that 
buoys up the hopes and spirits of the unlucky fisherman 
who sits all day, rod in hand, waiting for the bite that 
never comes. 
Rarely does a fisherman's success exceed bis anticipa- 
tions and desires. It was late in the season. We were at 
Lake Ida, that paradise of the small-mouthed, red-eyed, 
gray bass, and in the boat with the writer was friend 
Cole, the same who performed the wonderful feat of cast- 
ing a minnow, four times out of five, upon a lilypad 200ft. 
away. 
We bad fair success during the day, although we were 
obliged to keep shifting continually; the baesran in pairs, 
we rarely taking more than two at any one anchorage. 
At 5 o'clock in the afternoon it began to rain, and don- 
ning our rubber coats we braved the storm, forgetting all 
about the rain, the moment we got a strike. 
The rain ceased at 6 o'clock, the sun shone out bright 
and clear, tmgeing the clouds with gold and converting 
the surface of the lake into a mass of molten copper. 
The distant hills were encircled by a rainbow which 
formed' a most gorgeous natural frame for the beautiful 
landscape. The foliage of the trees at the water's edge 
wept crystal tears which glistened in the afternoon sun. 
The wind had now gone down, there was not a ripple 
upon the surface of the lake. We allowed the boat to 
drift lazily where it pleased, we being for the time more 
interested in the beautiful scenery than in anything else. 
Just ahead of the boat the fin of a large bass appeared 
above the surface of the water, then another and another, 
plainly showing that a school of bass were slowly moving 
around us. 
The anchor was dropped at once, and before it had 
reached the bottom two of us had a strike, the reels in- 
stantly setting up a vigorous screech, indicating that the 
fish were good ones. 
Our oarsman, not wanting to be outdone, had thrown 
his line over as soon as he had relinquished the anchor 
rope, and he too got a strike at once. Three rods in the 
boat and a bass at the end of each I 
Both my friend and the oarsman used heavy rods and 
stout lines, so, as far as the bass were concerned, it was 
simply a case of "Come along" the moment they were 
hooked. There was no fooling, no time wasted; a taut 
line, and before the bass had a chance to show his mettle 
he was in the fatal landing net and thence transferred to 
the boat. Without a moment's loss of time (there were 
hungry bass waiting for the bait to reach the water) a 
fresh bait was thrown out and a bass hooked and landed 
without ceremony. 
Were it not for the large hooks, strong lines and stout 
rods "something would have been heard to drop" in the 
water, but a dextrous use of the landing net cut mat- 
ers short as far as the antics of the bass were concerned. 
The writer was fishing for sport, not for numbers, and 
used a two-jointed TJoz. split-bamboo rod, as pliant as a 
coach whip, a small multiplying reel, a fine silk line, a 
short, slender gut leader and a single hook. 
Now, when one realizes that with such tackle a strong 
man cannot lift a pound weight from the ground, it can 
be readily imaj^ led that there was no chance of landing 
a bass until the fish was first thoroughly conquered. 
But what sport! The bait would be cast over, either a 
frog or a minnow (a split shot was used to carry it be- 
neath the surface), and slowly sinking until the line be- 
came straight, the rod would at once begin to curve 
gradually until a foot or more had been drawn under the 
water. The bass had "struck" soon after the bait reached 
the water. Now setting the hooks, which, with so light 
a rod, had to be done sharply, the "circus" forthwith 
commenced. 
Away plunged the bass, carrying the threadlike line 
whizzing through the still water with the speed of a 
locomotive, causing the reel to whir like a dynamo and 
sing like a soprano. 
Without the slightest warning the reel ceased to run, 
the music stopped, the rod straightened, the line became 
loose and stright up, 5ft. in the air, leaped the lordly bass, 
shaking his massive head, every scale on his graceful 
and beautiful body glistening in the sunlight like so 
many diamonds. 
The hook is too well set to be shaken out, and with a 
splash the cunning fish falls squarely across the leader, 
which, being purposely allowed to rest loosely for the mo- 
ment, is not snapped in twain. 
Tightening the line upon him, off he rushes, jerking 
yard after yard from the reel, making a zigzag course 
through the water in his mad efforts to tear loose from 
the hook, failing in which he once more leaps into the 
air and, frantically shaking his body, gets the leader in 
some unexplained manner twisted around him. Seeing 
the danger, a yard or two is hastily drawn from the reel, 
giving the fish momentary freedom on a slack line, which 
results in his freeing himself from the tangle. 
Cautiously plying the rod , the line is taut once more. 
That moment of anxiety and doubt has started beads of 
perspiration on my face. With a vicious tug he shapes 
his course for the middle of the two-mile- wide lake and 
starts; yard after yard of line follows him, he swerves 
neither to the right nor to the left, keeping straight on. 
In fact he acts as if it were 2:55 P. M., and, having raised 
the funds with which to take up his note, was hurrying 
to the bank across the lake with a determination to get 
there, at all hazards, on time. 
The reel kept up its whirling and singing, and the line 
began to grow beautifully less upon the reel. Thinking 
he would tire of himself, and not wishing to unneces- 
sarily cut short the sport, the fish was given a free reel. 
However, with but few yards of line now left on the reel, 
and no apparent abatement of speed on the part of the 
bass being observed, something had to be done. 
Thumbing the line (the reel was below the hand), the 
tension becomes stronger, the rod gracefully bends, and 
the fish putting forth fresh exertions makes the tip of the 
rod vibrate as the line still runs out. Unless he is stopped ^ 
his course changed or progress in some way interfered 
with, he will UBe up the remaining line and, tearing him- 
self loose, make a farewell leap out of the water, and 
waving his tail as he re-enters the lake, bid us a pisca- 
torial adieu. 
Increasing the friction in the line until firmly held be- 
tween the thumb and forefinger, the butt of the rod is 
gradually p Dinted in the direction of the fish — "giving 
him the butt," in other words. 
The strain shows plainly in the quivering of the pliant 
rod, the tip and butt under the ordeal forming almost a 
true oval. The line begins to lift out of the water, yard 
after yard, until there is seemingly none of it immersed, 
when, again finding his progress firmly checked, he once 
more breaks water. On disappearing beneath the sur- 
face he at once takes a diagonal course toward our 
boat. 
When it seemed as if he wanted more line than the reel 
contained, and as if we would have to make up in rowing 
after him what was lacking in line, the anchor was 
lifted and the oarsman, resting on his oarsj awaited 
orders. 
Being now unrestrained, the fish sped toward the boat, 
working slightly to the left. He seemed to fly through 
the water. Instructing the oarsman to pull from the fish 
and working the multiplying reel, a moderately tight line 
was kept on him. 
The strain was at last beginning to tell; his course 
through the water became irregular; he began a series of 
short leaps; he would swim toward the bottom and then 
near the surface, all the time coming nearer until within 
20£t, of the boat. He was now allowed to make his last 
fight preparatory to being landed with the net. After 
sulking for a few moments he made a frantic effort to 
dive to the bottom and there seek aid of some friendly 
snag or sunken log, around which to twist and tear the 
leader asunder; but a tight line interfered with his pro- 
ject. Making one more leap in the air, he plunged grace- 
fully back into the water, gave up the fight, and resting 
upon his side allowed himself to be gently reeled, with- 
out a protest, within the safe meshes of the landing 
net. 
. What a fine, gamy fellow I He made a fight such as to 
almost entitle him to his liberty. The indicator on the 
scales points to 4lbs. 8oz, Truly a noble fish! 
During this time the other occupants of the skiff 
worked against time, the bottom of the boat resounding 
with the flopping of bass after bass yet full of life and 
vigor. For one hour this kept up, frequently two bass 
being landed at one time. 
The supply of frogs giving out, minnows were used, 
first the live and then the dead ones, and this supply fail- 
ing strips of skin taken from a rock bass proved tempting 
bait for those hungry bass. 
At 7 P. M. the fish stopped biting; we reeled in our 
lines, disjointed our rods and stowed them away, while 
the oarsman counted and strung the fish. Seventy-five 
bass for that hour's fishing. 
Was such fishing ever had before or will it ever be our 
good fortune to enjoy the like again! I have, however, 
one regret. Having repeatedly attempted during previous 
trips to take these bass with a fly, and having repeatedly 
failed to raise them, on this particular trip I left my fly- 
book at home and missed what might have turned out a 
golden opportunity. 
In closing let me say to those who have fished the lakes 
adjoining St. Paul, catching large- mouthed bass, pickerel, 
wall-eyed pike and croppies, that if they desire a new ex- 
perience and a day's fishing which they will long remem- 
ber let them go to Lake Ida, at Alexandria, and try con- 
clusions with the small-mouthed bass, giving the fish a 
fair chance for his life, discarding all triple hooks, spring 
hooks, gangs and such unsportsmanlike traps, using but 
one hook and using such other tackle that if the fish 
prove himself more artful than the fisherman he can 
break loose. 
After once landing a good- sized bass with rod and reel, 
drowning him by skill and careful handling and not by 
main force of hook, line, rod and two arms, a new book 
will be opened to the fisherman. 
The lake is half an hour's drive by day from Alexandria, 
on the Great Northern R. R. A postal to Frank Kent, 
liveryman, a day or two ahead will insure his meeting 
you at the train, and a note to C. Bedman, Lake Ida, will 
smooth the way for bait, boat, oarsman and accommoda- 
tions. C. 
[Regarding the remarkable and unparalleled casting 
referred to, the thinking reader will at once come to one 
of two conclusions, viz. : that a person who could make 
such a cast wouldn't "yank" bass out of the water; a 
person who would "yank" bass out of the lake couldn't 
make such a cast.] 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 
The Largest Bass of the Season. 
Chicago, III., Aug. 1. — The largest bass of this season 
hereabouts, so far as known, fell, or rather rose, to the rod 
of Mr. W. C. Beddome, the agent of the Boyce Building 
of this city. Mr. Beddome took this fish last Saturday at 
Hastings Lake, one of the many lakes of the Fox Lake 
system in northern Illinois, and has a right to be proud of 
it. Its length was 21iin. and it weighed 51bs, loz. The 
fish was a singularly handsome one for a large-mouth, 
very bright, clean and shapely. It was taken on frog, on 
an 8oz. rod and a cheap 30 cent line. Mr. Beddome went 
up to the lake to get cooled off, and had no intention of 
taking a 5lb. bass, but the latter insisted upon it. Mr. 
Beddome never caught so large a bass before in all his 
life, and the fact that he did is probably due to the fact 
that the Foeest and Stream office was recently moved 
into the building he represents. I have no doubt all the 
firms ofiicing here will catch large fish now. 
The Kingfishers. 
The camp of the Kingfishers, of Cincinnati, is this year 
to be located at Presque Isle Lake, near Marinisco, Mich. , 
and the advance agents of the aggregation, in the form of 
Kingfisher himself and the "Colonel,'^ have gone on ahead 
to make the arrangements about ice, eggs and other neces- 
sities. These two gentlemen arrived in Chicago Sunday 
evening last and passed north via Chicago & North- 
western Railroad the same evening, after only a brief 
sojourn. The others of the noted party will be along later, 
after Kingfisher and the Colonel have smoothed the 
bumps off a little, as is the duty of all advance agents, I 
hope Forest and Stream may hear from the company, 
and trust they will play to good business. 
Frogs. 
The frog is the standard bait of the Chicago fisherman, 
and for big- mouths will usually kill more fish than any 
other bait. The supplying of frogs for bait was long a 
considerable industry in the Grossman family, who lived 
down near Sixty-seventh street. The staple was retailed 
at '65 cents a doizen, aaoid. a; gtesA many hundred dozen 
were sold during a season. It was not until this season, 
however, that I ever noticed the frog as a periodical, or 
perhaps more definitely speaking, as news matter. This, 
description I presume fairly to be given to the goods 
handled by the train boy representing the R. R News Co. 
That annoying butcher usually troubles one by offering 
bad cigars and worse novels, and rarely has enterprise 
enough to vend anything really useful. Yet on a recent 
train I took over the Wisconsin Cantralroad north to the 
fishing lakes I was surprised to see the train boy offering 
bags of frogs along with Zola's novels and fresh- buttered 
popcorn. He had a dozsn frogs in a bag, and was selling 
them at 50 cents a bag, not very good ones at that. And 
he sold a lot of them too, mostly to the out-for-a-day sort 
of city angler who doesn't know much about fishing, but 
feels he ought to have anyhow a bluff at bait. The train 
boy had a big basket full of the little frog bags, each of 
the latter being about as big as a peanut bag, and very 
likely he took mercantile risk with so perishable a lot of 
property, for you can't keep a live frog on ice successfully 
— not unless you hold him there. 
One or two of the tackle houses here tried the experi- 
ment of keeping frogs on sale for bait, but Could never 
get a regular supply, so gave it up. Yet this morning a,s 
I came down town I saw in a window on Madison street, 
in the business part of town, a sign announcing "Live 
frogs for Sale, 35 cts, cash a dozen." Singularly enough, 
this sign was displayed in the window of a building which 
seemed to house a saloon, a sign-painting establishment 
and one or two other lines of trade. I am at a loss to 
know whether a frog is to be properly classified as news 
matter or wet goods or what. 
Ephemeral Flies. 
I am much obliged to Mr. Cheney for setting me right 
upon the difference existing between the May fly and the 
caddis fly, or between the drake fly and the sand fly. 
Curiously enough, I was just on the point of asking some- 
body about this, for the other day the question came up 
in practical form. I was in the camp of the Western 
Canoe Association, on Mullet Lake, in the upper part of 
the Michigan south peninsula, and a friend and I were 
sitting at a camp-fire in the dusk of a warm evening. 
We were assailed by a heavy flight of these summer 
flies, and I caught some of them and examined them. I 
found that they had an extra set of wings, or two pairs 
(which sometimes are good), and that these wings were 
veined and membranous, inste^id of soft and delicate. 
The body was shorter and darker than that of the fly I 
had seen earlier in the season in Wisconsin, and the long 
filaments of the upright tail were absent. I saw that this 
fly was not the same as the one of the Wisconsin waters. 
It is not quite the same as the Chicago ' 'sand fly" either. 
And now will Mr. Cheney or some one else tell me what 
is the "willow fly," whose larvse we used to find in little 
gravel cylinders hanging to the rocks under water, in 
our New Mexican mountain streams? We used them for 
trout bait with great success in July and August in that 
country. And then again, what are the "devil-scratch- 
ers," or "crawlers," which live and have their being in 
much the same fashion, even in the month of March, in 
the Boiling River of the Yellowstone Park, and in the 
Yellowstone River later in the season? The trout are 
very fond of these fellows at any stage of their entwicTce- 
lung, as they say in Germany, also at any stage of the 
game, as we say in Chicago. I would also like to ask, 
why is a May fly when it is born in July called a May fly, 
and why is a May fly a drake fly anyhow? I get all 
tangled up over these natural history matters sometimes. 
But all sorts of fish love to eat these sott-shelled dainties, 
who can tell a tale of two worlds, and know more about 
reincarnation and transmigration than any of the rest of 
us? Is it not thus that trout gain that weird and uncanny 
wisdom at which all men have betimes marveled — catch- 
ing these two-lived insects both going and coming, so to 
speak? 
Indiana and 'Maine. 
Mr, A, H. Weed, of Anderson, Ind,, is just back from 
a vacation trip in Maine, and says he saw more deer there 
than he ever did. He saw over 100 in a day, and they 
were so tame that he often paddled up to within 25 to 
75yds. of them as they stood near the shore. Mr, Weed 
is good enough to give me a box full of his stove-pipe bul- 
lets to kill my grizzly with. That patient animal is stfll 
waiting for me out in the mountains, and I would not 
blame him for getting mad and going away. 
The Passing of the Grayling. 
There has of late been somewhat diverse opinion ag, too 
the numbers of the grayling in the streams of the sojith- - 
ern peninsula of Michigan. Some have declared that . 
that rare and beautiful fish is almost extinct to-day,,whvile 
others have said that the grayling was holding iti. own 
and could be taken even yet in some numbers in. eerc ui 
of the streams, if one knew where to go. The cry of the ; 
extinction of the grayling dates back more than ten years, 
and began with the publication in one of the monthly 
magazines of an article on fishing in the Au Sable River. . 
Although that was many years ago, it was then said that . 
the grayling was doomed to early extinction in that , 
stream, always known as the best of all the grayling 
streams. That report was a trifle premature, but it can 
probably not be criticised as essentially inaccurate. The 
grayling, so far as I have been able to learn through re- . 
cent investigation of an all too brief and unsatisfactory 
nature, is not extinct, but is in process of extinction, and . 
soon must pass away. This belief I base not upon my own 
experience, for I have been too unfamiliar with these 
lower Michigan streams to be able to speak of them, but , 
upon the expressions of residents of the south peninsula ,. 
who are experienced and observant anglers. 
It has been my unfortunate experience never to have s 
caught or to have seen a grayling, though I have set that , 
down to be one of the accomplished things before very 
long. In an earlier issue of Forest and Stream (of last ; 
February, I believe) I spoke of a visit at my office of Mr. / 
F. A. Mitchell, G. P. A. of the Manistee & N. E. Railroad^, 
who lives at Manistee and has long been a faithful fly- 
fisher in the streams of that region. Mr. Mitchell told 
me to come to his country this spring for a trip, and as- 
sured me that we should have no trouble in getting my 
grayling and several others in the little Manistee, or ih 
Bear Creek or some of those streams which formerly car- 
ried this fish. Last week it chanced that I was over in 
that part of the world, in the upper portion of the south 
