aio 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oc*. Vi, 1896. 
seaaon. nor for a sufficiently long time after to enable the 
fish to recover from the exhaustion of spawning and to 
regain their normal, healthful condition. The people at- 
tended to that matter without having to resort to the 
boards of health for action, and "it does not need a pro- 
found intellect to see" that it would be an abominable 
outrage to exempt the farmer or men of other vocations 
from the operations of such a righteous law simply that 
they might profit financially because they happened to 
own a trout pond that no other human being has a right 
to approach. Why should the farmer or the minister or 
the horse editor of an agricultural newspaper have a law 
enacted for their individual and imaginary benefit when 
such a law would work injury to the rights of the rest of 
mankind? 
Let us see what led up to the passage of the law com- 
plained of, a law which has been in operation for seven 
years, a just and reasonable law, favored evidently by a 
large majority of the people or it would have been re- 
pealed before this. In this State laws that are "tyran- 
nical and unjust" do not remain for years on the books, 
for the people have a way of expressing themselves 
through their representatives in the Legislature when it 
is known that a bad bill has become a law. Sometimes 
they are a little slow to act, as in the case of the law 
which permits the sale of game at all seasons and puts a 
premium on crime in our neighboring States, a condition 
of things similar to that advocated by our agricultural 
friend for the sale of trout, but they will arouse them- 
selves over this game matter as they have already aroused 
themselves over the sale of trout when they fully under- 
stand the injustice of it. 
The natural history of the brook trout is unlike that of 
any other fish in the State, and the trout requires peculiar 
conditions to exist at all. It will not live in warm water 
like the pike; it is not a fish of civilization like the 
black bass; it is not a spring spawning fish like the pike- 
perch, and it is the least prolific of our food fishes. The 
smelt, the pike-perch, the- pike, the maecalonge, the 
pickerel and the shad may produce from 50,000 to 600,000 
9ggs for each female fish, and all are spring spawning 
fishes, which means that it requires but a few days, com- 
paratively, for the eggs to hatch, and the fry can swim 
away and disperse through the water as soon as they 
leave the egg, or within a few days after. The black 
bass is also a prolific spring spawning fish, but I did not 
mention it, as it is the one so-called game fish that broods 
its young after they are hatched. All the fish mentioned 
will thrive in waters where trout cannot live because of 
the high temper,ature, and they will thrive in waters of 
commerce where trout will not stay if they can get away. 
The trout is a shy fish, a fish of remote mountain streams 
and ponds removed from the ordinary haunts of man- 
kind. A two-year-old trout may yield 150 eggs or it may 
yield twice as many. The average yield of two and 
three-year-old trout may not be over 500 eggs, and when 
they get to be four and five years old they may not yield 
more than twice as many. The eggs may hatch in fiftv 
days or it may take 156 days to hatch them, and after the 
little fish are hatched it will be another thirty days or 
more before they are relieved of the burden of the um- 
bilical sac and are able to swim unhampered. During 
all these days, from the time the eggs are deposited until 
the fry swim freely, they are the helpless prey of count- 
less enemies. In a state of nature comparatively few of 
the eggs deposited by the fish are impregnated — in one 
case where the eggs of the salmon were counted in a 
Canadian salmon river only two per cent, were found to be 
impregnated. All these facts combined, that the trout is 
not as prolific as other fish; that only a small percentage 
of its ova is unpregnated; that it requires months to 
hatch the eggs, and that the eggs and try are subjected 
to unusual casualties, and are surrounded during the entire 
period of helplessness by a horde of enemies, make it 
necessary to surround the fish with every safeguard that 
the law can provide, and at the same time do everything 
that the science of artificial propagation can suggest to 
keep the species from extermination. Because trout 
waters are remote from ordinary observation, they are 
the more easily despoiled, and it is simply impossible for 
the force of protectors furnished by the State to watch 
over them all at all times. There is a poetic halo about 
the very name of the trout not shared by any other fish. 
A boy does not feel that he is a full fledged fisherman 
until he has caught trout, and men will eat trout simply 
because they are trout, when a fresh bullhead would be 
much better and cost much less. 
IJnder the circumstances it is not at all remarkable that 
the fish command a high price and are sought in season 
and out of season by various kinds of law-breakers, some 
tempted, by the price and some by the desire to possess 
trout. 
It wa^ not possible to protect the trout streams and 
ponds for the reasons given, and they were netted by 
ijight and by day and shipped by express to market — 
generally a summer hotel. Once in the possession of a 
netter, it was out of the question to prove how he caught 
them and he openly boxed and shipped them. There 
was one way to reach this class of offenders and that was 
the transportation clause. He might go to the innermost 
recesses of the forest and net trout free from observation, 
but when he brought them into daylight for transporta- 
tion to market he was met by a law that stopped the 
business in a great measure, and the same law was after- 
ward applied to deer and game birds with beneficial re- 
sults. 
Admit, for the sake of argument, that there were fifty 
or more private trout ponds in the State, the owners of 
which might make a profit from the sale of their trout if 
the transportation clause should be repealed, would it be 
just to all the rest of the people in the State to remove 
this safeguard and permit the old order of things to come 
in and open every trout water in the State to those who 
have no fear of the law provided they can get their fish 
to market after they are netted? It is not imagination on 
my part that this would be the result of a repeal of Sec- 
tion 109 to benefit a favored few, for if the farmer was al- 
lowed to ship trout at any time the poacher would do. 
Before this section became a law I was at a summer hotel 
for two seasons and saw the boxes of trout received there 
from the Adirondacks. The proprietor received and paid 
for more than he could use because, as he explained to 
me, if he did not take what was sent the supply would go 
to some other hotel. It was a moral certainty that every 
trout 80 received was netted, and the hotel-keeper and I 
both knew it, but it could not be proven in court. The 
trout came such a distance and were so long on the 
j Durney that no one who knew what a fresh trout was 
would care for them, but there was a demand for them 
all the same. I know positively that the law stopped that 
traffic, as it did similar traffic elsewhere in the State, and 
nothing but the transportation clause could stop it. If it 
is repealed, artificial propagation and all that nature can 
do to keep up the stock of trout will not save them in 
public waters for any great length of time. 
A. N. CSENBY . 
MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 
XVI.-Gorporal Henry R. Neaville. 
Henry had the taste for observing the habits of beasts, 
birds and fishes which leads a man to study them, a taste 
which may, if not checked, cause laim to count the fin- 
rays of a fish or the scales on the tarsus of a bird and then 
inflict his fellow man with a monograph on fin-rays and 
scales. Henry never reached that stage, but loved the 
woods and waters just the same, and was a very quiet 
companionable fellow of my own age. His father kept 
the only hotel in Potosi at that time, and Henry and his 
younger brother Frank were kept by the hotel. Few 
things troiibled Henry; with him "it was always after- 
noon" and pleasant visions floated in his mind; yet he 
was not indifferent to the passage of time if aroused by 
something which interested him. In still-hunting deer 
he was tireless and no amount of fatigue dulled his ardor. 
If, however, wood was to be cut for the house Henry 
somehow never took an absorbing interest in it, and it 
soon turned out that Henry and I had many traits in 
common. 
We fished for crappies, another fish new to me and one 
which I considered the best pan fish in the Mississippi. 
This is the fish, or brother of the one, called "strawberry 
bass" in western New York, and if my youthful judgment 
was correct it is a fish worthy of more attention from fish- 
culturists than it gets. There is a chance that my more 
mature palate would confirm the verdict of forty years 
ago, for 1 never did care to eat a black bass if perch could 
be had, and residence by salt water has intensified this 
preference. My friend, Prof. Jordan, says the crappie 
should be called Pomoxys, and in his "Manual of Verte- 
brates" gives what he tninks the word means in Greek; 
but I guess the name comes from the Latin Pomum, fruit, 
for the crappie is, in the argot of the day, "a peach"; a 
few years ago it would have been "a daisy," and so in the 
process of evolution the fruit succeeds the flower. Dar- 
win, "thou reasonest well!" 
A tree top was Ja favorite place to find the crappie and 
incidentally to lose fish-hooks. We used short rods, cut 
in the woods, but not over 7ft. long, for fishing in the tree 
tops, and the crappies were flat as a pancake and sometimes 
a foot long. In a tree top if one of them was allowed a bit 
of line the angler was lucky if he saved the hook. They 
fought fairly well too, of course not to be compared to 
the fight of a black bass nor of some perch, but it was 
sport to take them. We strung the fish through the gills 
and hung them in the water to keep alive. Once while 
pulling in my string to add another it pulled heavily and 
a catfish, which looked to weigh lOlbs., came to the sur- 
face. It had swallowed one crappie, but let go when it 
saw us. Soon after this Henry put his hand in the water 
and a big catfish seized it and tore the skin badly, causing 
him to make remarks calculated to hurt the feelings of 
all catfish which heard them. 
As my mining partner, Charley Guy on, never objected 
to having a holiday, it happened that Henry and I fished 
frequently in the summer, and hunted for ducks, deer 
and other game in spring and fall. Shortly after Guyon's 
adventure with a buck, related last week, Henry and I 
were following deer up the Grant River, and I saw three 
of them cross to my side within easy shot. There was a 
buck and two does. As they came out of the water I 
dropped the buck, and like an echo of my shot one of the 
does fell. Henry took off his clothes and swam over and 
found me talking with a man about fifty years old who 
had killed the doe. He proved to be a French-Canadian 
named Antoine Gardapee, with whom I struck up a 
friendship wliich will be related "in our next." He was 
a trapper, and like my old friend Port Taylor was a 
"character." We dressed our deer, and Henry and I 
swam the river with it and took turns with the heavy 
saddle wrapped in the skin and the lighter forequarters.* 
Gardapee came to town with us and sold his venison. 
In those days many men threw away the fore quarters of 
a deer. I asked Antoine to come to my house tor dinner, 
and he did, but he insisted that a rib chop out of a fat 
deer was the best portion, and we had them broiled. He 
was right, and to-day I follow his advice when venison is 
in season and buy rib chops. He took a fancy to me be- 
cauBe our tastes were in common and I had education 
enough to write his letters to his friends, and would talk 
to him on subjects in which he was interested. I looked 
up to him as a combined Port Tyler and Natty Bumpo 
rolled into one. It was a sort of love at first sight, or 
like that of Desdemona for Othello, of which he says: 
"She lov'd me for the dangers I had paas'd; 
And I lov'd her that she did pity them." 
Henry Neaville had that keen sense of humor which 
often accompanies a poetic temperament and permits one 
to both enjoy a sentiment and to burlesque it at the same 
time. This is a possibility unknown to solemn souls who 
think burlesque or travesty irreverant or disrespectful, 
which it is not always intended to be. Byron had this fac- 
ulty in perfection, and lets you down from a poetic flight 
with a d, s. thud. Shakespeare turns from heroic Hotspur 
to fat Jack Falstaff — and Henry Neaville, who had a con- 
siderable knowledge of Shakespeare, often paraphrased 
him. This is what called up the above quotation. Henry 
once said: 
"She lov'd me for the fishes that I caught, 
And I lov'd her that she did pickle them." 
Frank Neaville, Henry and I one summer day went 
fishing, and we rowed up against the current of Swift 
Sloo and around into more quiet waters, made fast to a 
tree top and dropped our lines. Tree tops in these waters 
were abundant wnere the freshets had washed the soil 
from the roots, and the tree toppled into the water; usual- 
ly it kept on growing, or at least in full leaf during the 
season, and afforded a good place to tie a boat and fish 
either among the branches or further out. A queer tap- 
ping noise came from the boat's bottom. I suspected 
Frank of making it because he was full of tricks of that 
kind, but they kept up and he did not seem to be the cause. 
"Are there spirits among us seeking communication with 
mortals?" I asked. 
"Yes," said Henry, "and I'll try to call that particular 
spirit from the vasty deep, and flbad out why he knocks on 
our boat." 
"He wants to come in," Frank explained, "and he's t6b 
polite to do it without knocking first." 
Henry put on a plump worm, took off the little biillet 
which served for a sinker, and let his line drift under the 
boat. In a short time it was evident that something was 
tugging at his line, and his little rod bent as the spirit, or 
whatever it was, struggled to get loose. Soon a large fish 
was pulled from under the boat, and made several kicks 
and splashes before it was flopping at our feet, showering 
water and scales. It was a * 'red-horse," and would weigh 
about 21bs., guess weight. 
"Is that the cause of the spirit-like raps on our boat?" 
"Yes, he was sucking off snails and watef worms. Did 
you never see 'em do it?" 
"No, never heard of such a thing before." 
"Here's another at it now; come over this side and yott 
can see it. Come stUl and don't rook the boat, or you'll 
scare it." 
I went and saw about half of the fish extending beyond 
the boat. It was on its back and its red fins looked 
bright against its white belly and straw colored sides. At 
every tap on the boat a slight contraction of the body was 
observed as he sucked his food from the boards. Frank 
thought he could capture the fish with hiii hands and 
tried it, but had to fish his hat from the water instead. 
"Golly," said he, "that fish was quick. He jumped 
when I touched him and slipped through my hand like 
an eel." After this the drumming of the red-horse was 
often heard, not only on the boat, but upon logs that 
were several feet from us. This sucker is the "mullet" 
or "red mullet" of western New York. It is eatable in 
cold weather if it is the best you can get. 
Henry threw the fish overboard, saying: "Might as 
well let it go; we never eat 'em in summer. I only 
hooked it for fun and to show you what made the tap- 
pings on the boat. Don't you have red-horse where 
you've fished? Therel Look over on the bank of the 
sloo. Keep still, Frank, sb!" 
A queer- looking object was rolling about on the shore 
in a singular manner. It grew large and then small. 
Sometimes it was the size of a small cat and then would 
iiicrease until as big as an old Thomas. It twisted, rolled 
sideways and back until it reached the water, where it 
kicked up a great bobbery. 
"I'm durned if I know what that is," said Henry, "I 
never saw such an animal before. What do you think it 
is?' 
"It's a coon rolling in the dirt and then washing him' 
self off," said Frank. 
Henry sneeringly replied: "Coon! yer granny! A 
coon's got a big bushy tail and is gray. Frank, you don't 
know a coon irom Driesbach's pet leopard." 
By this time the splashing ceased and one animal 
crawled out of the sloo dragging another. Henry and I 
said in chorus: "It's a mink!" So it was, but he had a 
muskrat with him, and musky was dead. Our exclama- 
tion startled the mink, and it jumped into the grass with 
its prey. I said to Henry: "That sight is worth more 
than all the fish we have caught and all the mineral 
Charley Guyon and I might have dug to-day, or for a 
week. I knew that mink were fond of muskrat meat, 
but a fellow might fish for a lifetime and never see a 
mink kill one." 
"What made the mink hurry off so?" asked Frank, "he 
wasn't in any hurry about killing the muskrat. I'd like 
to have seen him eat it. 
"Frank," said Henry, "that mink had several good 
reasons for hurrying off. It was dinner time and Mrs. 
Mink and all the little minks were wondering why papa 
didn't come home from market with the dinner. Then 
Mr. Mink may have thought his family might mistrust 
that he was lingering at Sam Coons's bar and would for- 
get to bring any dinner at all; but the chances are that 
when we spoke he looked over at us and thought: 'It's 
best to hurry home before that diurned fool, Frank Nea- 
ville, asks me a whole mess of questions.' That's the rea- 
son he went off so suddenly. Frank, he took one look at 
you and saw your mouth wide open ready to ask him a 
question and he sneaked." 
Frank looked at me and said: "Henry knows a heap 
o' things, but somehow nobody seems to realize it but 
himself. He knows just why that mink hurried off 
as well as I do, but he won't tell the truth. Now, I'll tell 
you why he skipped out: the mink was so interested in 
his fight that he did not notice us until Henry called out. 
Then he looked over here and said to himself: 'There's 
that mean Henry Neaville and he'll take my musquash 
if I don't get out. That fellow is mean enough to take 
acorns from a blind sow,' And so that mink, which 
would have been delighted to have eaten his dinner in 
decent company, sneaked off with it into the woods for 
fear he would be robbed." 
I had taken my rifle along because the boys thought it 
would be well to kill a pig on our return, and as I had 
"bought into a claim o' hogs" we went ashore, and after 
some work among these very wild animals I got a shot 
and dropped a "likely shoat" that would dress about 
601bs. After skinning the pig we laid it across the bow 
and rowed around into Swift Sloo about sundown. The 
strong current was taking us along toward home when 
Frank saw a wounded pelican near shore and grabbed a 
tree top to hold the boat. Quicker than it can be told the 
sudden check in the swift current filled the boat and it 
left us in the water, Henry was in the stern steering 
with one oar and fortunately grabbed the painter and 
held on. Frank and I got out from the tree top and struck 
for the nearest shore. A bend hid the boat and Henry 
from sight by the time we landed and then Frank began 
to cry: "Henry is drowned, I know he is, and all on 
account of my foolishness!'' 
I consoled him as well as possible by saying that his 
brother was a good swimmer and must be on land below 
the bend, and then we heard his yell, "Yee-e-e hoo-ooo," 
and answered it. We went down to him, and found that 
the boat and one oar was all there was left, except the 
three strings of fish which were tied to the gunwale. 
"Well, we might as well go on home," said Frank. 
I thought a moment and said: "You boys can go if 
you like, but my rifle is in the sloo near the tree top and 
I'm goin' to stay on this island and try to get it when 
morning comes," 
The boys decided to remain after I produced a little bot< 
