Sept. 12, 1896.J 
FOREST AND STREAM^ 
207 
A Florida Game Country. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
About twenty-five miles south of Kissimmee, Osceola 
county, Fla., three large lakes He closely together with 
an immense marsh surrounding them on three sides. 
Into the lakes flow several creeks, and the lakes and 
creeks are full of black bass weighing from lib. up to 
161b9. The fishing is simply grand. I will guarantee to 
show you more bass there in the same length of time than 
you ever saw before. 
The marshes afford a feeding place for coimtless num- 
ber of ducks and snipe. Jusb after the first cold wind in 
October the snipe begin to come in and they come by 
thousands, also the ducks; the ducks are of a variety 
known as the Florida duck and mallards. 
Out in the woods are all the quail you can shoot, and on 
the west side of these lakes is one of the finest deer and 
turkey countries in the State. R. R. T. 
Holeb Lake. 
The "ideal camp" described in our issue of Aug. 15 is 
situated on an island in Holeb Lake, Maine, not Hobb Lake, 
aa was then printed. 
IN THE FAR NORTH LAND.— II. 
[For first paper see issue of Aug. 
The great lakes and rivers of British America north of 
latitude 60° abound in fish which in size and quality far 
surpass those of more southern districts. In that vast and 
barren land they form a large part of the food supply, the 
Indians drying them for use in summer, or "hanging" 
them in the frosty autumn days for winter consump- 
tion. 
The salmon of the Pacific is not found except near the 
mouths of several Arctic rivers, but there are other mem- 
bers of the salmon family as valuable for food as the bet- 
ter known species of the western coast. One of these is 
the Salmo maclcenzie, or the "inconnu" of the early vqy- 
ageurs. This I saw first at the Rapids of the Drowned on 
Great Slave River. At a glance ic resembled the "silver 
salmon" of Alaska, but the head was larger and the shape 
lesd graceful. The inconnu, like a true salmon, has its 
home in the sea, ascending the rivers to spawn It is 
found in the large rivers of Alaska — the Kowak, Youkon 
and Kuskowick — and in Backs Fish River and the Ander- 
son of the Barren Grounds. There is a species also closely 
allied, if not identically the same as the inconnu, in the 
Obe, Lena, Kolyma and other rivers of Siberia. 
The inconnu appears about the middle of June at Fort 
Smith, 1,400 miles from the Arctic Ocean, and would no 
doubt continue its journey up the Great Slave River as far 
south as Lake Athabasca were it not for the fierce Rapids 
of the Drowned, which at this point bar the river. Dur- 
ing its long journey no obstruction breaks the flow of the 
mighty Mackenzie, and the fish arrive in fine condition 
compared with the mutilated and dying salmon one sees 
in the headwaters of the Columbia and Fraser in British 
Columbia. The specimens which I saw averaged about 
121b8. apiece, the flesh in the more southern districts 
being a bluish white, and very palatable, though inferior 
to whitefish. At the Delta of the Mackenzie, where ttie 
fish were fresh run from the sea, the flesh was firmer, of 
much finer flavor, and pinkish white in color. 
While at the Rapids of the Drowned I talked with Wil- 
liam Flett, an intelligent Louchoux Indian, who, as a boy, 
had accompanied the late Robert Kennicott on his expe- 
dition to Alaska, in 1865. WiUiam Flett told me that the 
largest inconnu ever seen by him was caught at the Mac- 
kenzie Delta, and weighed 501bs. Dr. Tarleton H, Bean, 
of Washington, D. C, gives this weight as the maximum 
one, but Mr. Camsell, chief factor of the Mackenzie Dis- 
trict, told me of an enormous specimen of 901bs, weight. 
Tnis was taken by an Indian at the mouth of Hay River, 
on the southern shore of Great Slave Lake. It was so 
large that when carried on the back of an Indian its head 
projected over his shoulder, while the tail dragged on the 
ground. The Louchoux name for the inconnu is "thly- 
oog-cho," meaning a long, narrow fish, perhaps referring 
to its elongated snout. The proper pronunciation for this 
name is a combination of a gurgle and a chuckle. 
I tried in vain to catch the inconnu with hook at spin- 
ning bait whfle camping near the Rapids of the Drowned. 
The Eskimos at the MacKenzie Ddlta take the fish by both 
means, and it is probable that the inconnu, like the Pa- 
cific salmon, will refuse food while far inland on its way 
to the spawning grounds. I have fished successfully for 
salmon with trolls and artificial flies in the bays and 
mouths of rivers in Alaska, though I failed to capture one 
in the upper reaches of the Columbia River. 
Although the inconnu is a valuable food fish in the far 
north, it plays a less important part than the whitefish. 
This, in numbers and quality, is far and away the best fish 
in British America. Tnere are several species, the most 
widely distributed being the common whitefish of the 
Great Lakes. The usual weight is about aibs. , though it 
often attains a much larger size. It spawns in S-'ptember 
and October, and at such times the Indians fill their nets 
as fast as they can be lowered. The Hudson Bay Co.'s 
posts consume an enormous number of fish, a "district" 
or head post requiriag about 18,000 during the year for 
their officers, servants and sledge dogs. 
The great lake trout or "namaycush" abounds also in 
the north, reaching a weight of more than BOlbs. It 
varies as much in the color of its skin and flesh as does 
the trout of our Great Lakea. Small specimens are often 
taken in the whitefish nets, which have a 5 or 5i'm, mesh, 
but the largest are captured with cod hooks and bait. 
Perhaps the finest fish in the country are those of Great 
Bear Lake. The depth of this inland sea, its extent of 
14,000 square miles and the clearness of its waters, sup- 
plied by the cold, rushing streams which come from the 
Barren Lands, all combine to render the fish exception- 
ally fine. Great Bear Lake was too far out of our course 
for me to visit it, but I saw the Bear River, its outlet. 
Not far from the Hudson Bay Company's post, Fort Nor- 
man, the Bear sweeps into the Mackenzie in a fine curve 
at the point where Bear Rock rears its precipitous cliffs 
1,400ft. above the level of the river. For some distance 
beyond the junction the two bodies of water remain 
quite distinct: on one side the great flood of the Macken- 
zie, pale brown in color, opaque with the sediment brought 
from the south; on the other the steel-blue current of the 
Bear, clear as crystal, rolling rapidly and smoothly, un- 
broken by ripple of fish or insect. 
Having a few hours to spare one evening, I determined 
to try the river with rod and line, though with little hope 
of success. Duncan, one of the men at the post, and I 
took a small skiff and rowed some distance up the Bear. 
It was after'lO o'clock, but there was broad daylight; and 
as we passed under the banks we could hear the bees hum- 
ming busily over the patches of early primroses, Arctic 
asters and Indian pinks. 
For an hour we tested the fishing carefully with bait, 
spoon and artificial fly, but not a rise did we have. Lean- 
ing over the water's edge, I dipped my hand into the 
water. It was icy cold and a few seconds made my fin- 
gers smart and tingle. We knew the river was full of 
fish, but they evidently were to be taken only by nets, 
and at last we gave up in despair and turned our faces 
homeward. We paused as we passed the company's nets 
to see what they had captured. The nets had a mesh of 
2 or 2iin. and were weighted down at the lower edge by 
stones and floated at the upper one by wooden buoys. 
Duncan pulled up length after length, revealing scores of 
beautiful fish caught by the gills. They were round, fat, 
about 2lbs. in weight and as bright as burnished silver. 
In the north they are known as the "herring," but are in 
fact a true whitefish (Corego7iMS luddus). Sir John Rich- 
ardson, of the Franklin Arctic Expedition, found them in 
this locality and gave them the name. They resemble 
the Cisco of Lake Superior (Ooregomis artedi), but are supe- 
rior in quality, and there are differences which a scientist 
would detect in the formation of the head. 
The grayling (Thymallus signifer), or "blue fish," as it 
is called in the Mackenzie District, was met with half- 
way down the river. We had put ashore to get some 
wood, and were detained some time. I hastily caught 
some "bull-dogs" (a kind of deer fly) and with fly and 
bait rod went a little distance from the boat. A mission- 
ary, who was on board, went with me, using my bait rod 
while I tried some artificial flies. We could see the fish 
breaking the surface of the water in midstream and I 
hoped for some good sport. But I seemed fated to have 
no fishing. We had hardly reached the spot when a sud- 
den gale arose, making it impossible for me, by no means 
a skillful caster, to throw the flies far enough in the face 
of the wind. Just as I was about to take the bait rod 
that missionary caught with it our only grayling. I was 
delighted to see it, even if I was not to be its fortunate 
captor. It certainly was a beauty: a male fish, lOin. in 
girth, 18in, long and weighing 2^lbs. The general color 
was a purplish silver, the tail a soft red gray, the large 
dorsal fin a dark bottle-green, with changing light blue 
and light green spots on it, and lovely iridescent hues. 
The lower fin greenish gray, with pink and purple stripes; 
eyes dark brown or black, with golden rims. The 
stomach was full of small stones, vegetable matter like 
half-digested grass and small sticks, a beetle, a grasshop- 
per and many May flies. 
The storm increasing, we were obliged to give up our 
fishing and return to tbe boat. I saw the grayling once 
more at Big Island, where the Mackenzie leaves Great 
Slave Lake, but we did not pause long enough to try the 
fishing. 
The grayling is found in the Barren Lands east and 
north of Great Slave Lake, and in the cold rapid streams 
flowing into the Mackenzie, I did not hear of it south of 
the lake, though it probably exists in the mountain 
streams that feed the headwaters of the Peace and 
Athabasca rivers. The Louchoux Indians at the Delta 
call it the "Tsee-Jah" or "Shee-Jah." "Shee" means a 
knife in Louchoux, and the name probably is an allusion 
to the great dorsal fin which resembles a knife-blade. 
This fish must afford fine sport with light tackle. The 
one we caught was delightfully gamy and fought as weU 
as a Nipigon trout. The grayling are very active, jump- 
ing clear from the water after insects or seemingly in 
play. They love clear water, and are not found near 
Fort Rae on a branch of Great Slave Lake, where the 
waters are shallow and often muddy; nor are they taken 
at that point in the Mackenzie where the Liard River 
pours a turbid flood into the main stream. 
This species was first discovered by Sir John Richard- 
son in the Barren Lands. It differs from the southern 
grayling (variety ontariensis) in having larger scales and 
the great dorsal fin being much higher, with more rows of 
spots. During my whole journey I had few opportuni- 
ties of fishing; either we were travt^ling without pausing 
night or day or the waters were unfavorable for fish. I 
regretted this especially at the Delta and Peels River post, 
the most interesting places on our voyage. 
At the latter place I purchased some Eskimo hooks, or 
baits made of walrus ivory or blue soapstone, found on 
the shores of the Arctic Ocean. These were used in troll- 
ing, with lines of whalebone, and were most skillfully 
fashioned. The largest were about 5in. long, and had 
toward one end a nail inserted sharpened and bent like a 
hook. On the ivory were little figures of whales and 
seals etched with some black substance, while some were 
ornamented only with black lines and dots. The herring 
hooks were not more than |in. in diameter, several being 
fastened with short Sin. snells to the main line of whale- 
bone. The Eskimo through an interpreter assured me 
that inconnu of even 12 lbs. weight could be captured with 
these small hooks by "going very easy." The large baits 
were used for inconnu and the great lake trout. The Es- 
kimos take fish also by nets or by fishing with bait 
through the ice. Whitefish and other species of fresh- 
water fish are found in Mackenzie Bay, far out beyond 
the Delta. Such a vast body of fresh water is discharged 
through the many channels of the Delta that the influ- 
ence of the ocean is hardly felt for many miles. 
I secured one hook and line which closely resembled 
those of the Alaska Indians. The line was of reindeer 
skin, and the hook was made of bone securely lashed at a 
sharp angle to a small stick of wood with thongs of rein- 
deer skin. 
As we were passing through one of the river channels 
on our return, we heard a shout from the shore, and a 
long-pointed Louchoux canoe darted out from the shore, 
its occupant signaling for us to stop. We knew that the 
Indian had fish for barter, and as our supply of dried 
reindeer meat was falling short, the captain checked the 
boat's speed and the canoe was drawn up alongside. It 
was half filled with inconnu and whitefish, and never 
have I seen more beautiful fish. The inconnu were fat 
and round as little mackerel, and averaged at least ISlbs. 
apiece. I selected a smaller one of IS^lbs. and a white- 
fish of 5 Jibs. ; as I had not alcohol enough to preserve the 
whole fish, the captain and I fell to work and soon had 
two skins which could be packed in smaller bulk. The 
latter proved to be Coregonus richardsonii or Coregonus 
kenniaottii of Milner. It was a female, and at that time, 
July 15, was full of eggs about the size one sees in shad 
in April. These whitefish were nearly the same size, 
averaging perhaps 61bs. apiece, and were very round and 
fat, with large brownish scales. And I can* testify that 
never have I tasted more delicious fish; no, not even a 
Nipigon trout fresh from the rapids, eaten after a hard 
day of portaging and paddling. 
I saw splendid inconnu of 25 and SOlbs. weight at Fort 
Good Hope, near the Arctic Circle, and at Peel's River 
post. I heard, too, of fine mountain trout taken in the 
spurs of the mountain and west of the post. These may 
be the malma trout, or it is possible that the rainbow 
trout is found here as well as in the more southerly 
ranges of the Rockies near the Canadian Pacific Railway. 
The far north offers a wide field for the naturalist. 
Mr. Macfarlane and other officers of the Hudson Bay 
Company have done valuable work in ornithology, but 
the fish, smaller animals, insects and plants remain to be 
carefully studied. A few imperfect collections have been 
made by Polar expeditions in certain districts, but im- 
mense tracts of country are still practically unknown, 
never having been seen by white men. 
Elizabeth Taylor. 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 
Minnesota Matters. 
Spring Park, Lake Minnetoka, Minn., Aug. 28.— There 
is an old saying among men of the cloth — the green cloth 
— that nothing will beat luck. The Forest and Stream 
luck is proverbial, and of a sort, I am persuaded, to put 
one in a position to give that unfortunate gentleman, 
Napoleon I., cards and spades. The main difference be- 
tween Napoleon and me, as near as I can discover by 
diligent reading of the current monthly magazines, is 
that, although we both have been broke at times and 
have both had good runs of luck, his luck ran out on him 
entirely after a while, whereas mine never has. Napoleon, 
for instance, was never at Lake Minnetonka, and in fact 
seems never to have known anything at aU about the pos- 
sibilities of the beautiful State Minnesota. Napoleon 
may have worn a sword with diamonds on it, as against 
a plain six-shooter with a wooden handle, but he can't 
eat three meals a day where he is now and I can. Napo- 
leon may have a larger and colder coffin than I will ever 
have, but he has got none the best of me, for I can sleep 
in a tent, and sit by a camp-fire and watch the moon 
come up over Minnetonka, and do a lot of things that he 
can't and never could. In short, the difference between 
me and Napoleon is mainly one of point of view. Napo- 
leon has been taken up and boomed by the magazines; 
arid I have not, that is all. Really, when it comes to this 
destiny business, I am a lot luckier than Napoleon. 
The Forest and Stream luck this week has brought 
me to a part of this big and wonderful United States 
hitherto unknown to me, though known about, vaguely, 
by all who live within 800 miles of it on any side — that is 
to say, the wonderful lower lake country of Minnesota, 
the State of lakes. While by no means new, this State is 
by no means known. I have long thought that Minnesota 
was soon to succeed Wisconsin as the main field of the 
sporting travel of Chicago, and certainly it seems as 
though Minnesota had enough of resource to stay and 
content for many decades the angler, the shooter, the 
tourist, and, above all, the summer traveler. 
Lake Minnetonka I had always pictured to myself as a 
nice sort of pond, with a big hotel on each side of it, and 
a few boats with perch fishermen anchored out between 
the hotels. I thought they had a band come out once in 
a while and play a few popular airs, and that the girls put 
on their goo i gowns once in a while and had callers on 
the front porch; and sometimes they all went riding on a 
hay wagon, the guests of one hotel visiting those of the 
other. I thought Lake Minnetonka must be anyway more 
than a mile across. 
Investigation proves that I was a little shy on facts 
about Minnetonka. Instead of being a pond or a lake it 
is a sea, made up of many lakes. It has a shore line of 
over 120 miles, and one so broken and varied that one can 
never see more than a small part of it from any one view. 
It has two big railroads to feed it, and some day that vig- 
orous Westerner, Jim Hill, will just about build a railroad 
clear around it. It has three big hotels, miles apart, 
where hay wagons do not constitute the chief means of 
locomotion, and there are dozens of towns and villages 
built along its shores, and of its 100 miles of available 
shore front over fifty miles are built up with cottages and 
summer homes. It is a vast summer city whose popula- 
tion comes from the cream of the West and South and 
East. All the world here is free from care. All the world 
sails, swims, rows, fishes, and is happy. What a relief, to 
leave behind the great city where all are unhappy, and 
land after a night of sleep in a city where every one is 
happy. There the hurrying people all wear the frown of 
care. Here every neighbor has a smile. Unlucky Napo- 
leon, to have been concerned so closely with affairs of 
business! 
Mr. Carrington Phelps is a long-time member of the 
Forest and Stream family, who was aware of the fact 
that both Napoleon and myself were shy on Minnetonka, 
so he invited us both out for a look at the country. 
Napoleon sent regrets, poor fellow, but here I am. 
Mr. Phelps has 580 acres of the best land around Min- 
netonka, with timber and bluffs and that sort of thing, 
and at one of the loveliest parts of this body of land he 
has pitched his summer camp for several years. Here 
there is a fine dining hall fully 25ft. long, made, like a 
claim shack, of boards and tar paper, and a big house 
tent and a big sleeping tent, and some log stables, and a 
boat landing, and everything on earth you need for happi- 
ness in summer, Mr. and Mrs. Phelps and their son Car- 
rington live here with their guests for four to six months 
each year. I think I shall live here six months or ao my- 
self, for I feel as though I wero going to like the place. 
The home camp is on a bold bluff above a great expanse of 
the lake, and the view is lovely by day or by the moonlit 
night. An Aztec camp-fire, perpetual, unextinguished, 
burns in the middle of the community, bright and 
high at night, low and comfortable by day, so that always 
one has insensibly about that most soothing and comfort- 
ing of odors, the smell of sweet smoke. It is astonishing 
