k-^OHEST AND STREAM. 
287 
I cannot close this note without mentioning my sorrow 
upoB. reading of the death of Fred Mather. I only knew 
him through the columns of Forest and Stream, but that 
was to know him well, and I have read everything he 
ever wrote for it. I, too, trust that he will meet the men 
he has fished with, for the list is longer than he knew of. 
Walter B. Savary. 
Jones' "Wild Western Scenes" is published by the J. 
B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, Pa. 
It seems to bear the earmarks of the book wanted, and a 
line to that firm would make verification easy. I haven't 
I seen the book myself, so am shy of definite statement. 
J. P. T. 
More About the Boardrhan* 
If you want to know anything about fish, fishing or 
fishing tackle; guns or game; boats or places to use 
them; or any other old thing wherein there is pure sport, 
just address yourself to the Forest and Stream brother- 
hood and prepare to be astonished and grateful, for well 
will the results merit these emotions. 
I wanted to know about Osage orange for rods, so I 
inserted a modest request for information in a letter to 
Forest and Stream, and great has been my rewai'd. 
Osage orange, bethabara, hickory, dogwood, osier wil- 
low, shadblow and many other woods and their treat- 
ment are now an open book to me, and more, I have 
enough bethabara and lancewood to enable mc to put 
my newly acquired lore in practice fixing up my two 
fly rods. 
The same mail that brought the paper with my letter 
in. it brought also the first answer to it from a brother 
angler in New Jersey. He said' he didn't know any- 
thing about it himself, but gave me the address of an- 
other who did, from whom I received a very cordial 
letter stating that he made a heavy rod for salt water 
fishing of Osage orange, and it stood the test of kiUing 
a 37-pound fish that took over an hour of hard work to 
land. Then from Racine, Wis., another wrote that he 
and his fishing companion each made a bass rod of the 
wood, and after the first small bass had been done to 
death the tool would have answered admirably to fish 
around a corner with. They took good and plenty and 
kept all they got. 
A letter from a Grand Rapids man, who is not a 
stranger to the Boardman, contained some very timely 
instructions as to the treatment of our native woods and 
was accompanied by several pieces of bethabara and 
lancewood for working into tips. 
A Toledo, O., correspondent sent me a circular de- 
scribing a two-piece silk-wound rod and offered to 
send me a couple to try. I sat right down and wrote 
him, "Don't." It would only add to my burden, for 
alas! I cannot spare the price. I have five children, of 
whom four are large enough to fish, and it's going to be 
a hard scrap to furnish them with the necessary tackle. 
The only one who responded to my call that I cannot 
forgive until I have been up the river and surrounded a 
good rainbow is a rod maker, who send me his cata- 
logue and shattered the last remnants of my peace of 
mind. 
Owing to serious sickness in my family I have been 
unable to answer as yet, individually, the many kind let- 
ters received, but will endeavor to do so at an early date. 
All I can do at present to respond to this kindness of 
my brothers of the rod is to invite them, to go a-fishing 
with me up the Boardman. 
A gentleman in Pittsburg Pa., \vrites to ask if I think 
it would be a good place for him to spend his vacation. 
I have not answered him yet, for I don't know what to 
say; and lest a brother angler, lured by what I have 
told of the Boardman, should come here, and, luck being 
not with him, get no fi-sh, and so feel justified in speak- 
ing of the stream and my tales of ' it in an uncompli- 
mentary manner, I will give a short description of the 
stream and its inhabitants as I have known them, for the 
past twenty years, and let others judge for themselves. 
Traverse City lies at the head of the west arm of Grand 
Traverse Bay near the northern end of the lower penin- 
sula of Michigan. It is a bright, clean city of 10,000 
inhabitants, entered by a line of steamers from Chicago 
and three railroads. There are good hotels, livery sta- 
bles and roads, and the walking is excellent. 
, The waters available for trout fishing extend from the 
forks, thirteen miles southeast of town, over forty or 
more miles of river to within two miles of the new 
court house. One can take the 6 A. M. G. R. & I. train 
to Keystone, five miles; Slight's Siding, eight miles, or 
Mayfield Bridge, twelve miles, fish all day and return on 
the evening train in time for a late dinner. Lunch can 
be foraged from any one of numerous farm houses. To 
get to the forks a team is necessary and a tie pass can 
be had up the track without asking. The spacing of the 
ties is just uneven enough to suit the gait of a weary 
soul who has just missed the last train or whose horse 
has got tired waiting for a bite and gone home on his 
own account, as my boy and I have experienced. 
The stream can be waded most of the way and is clear 
of brush, so that casting a fly is a pleasure unmixed with 
any temptation to raise the temperature. The lower 
three miles can be negotiated dry footed from the bank. 
When 1 try it I generally either slip or jump in before I 
have reached the second pool below the Boardman EIbCt 
trie Light Co.'s dam. 
And the fish, they are there in goodly numbers and 
satisfactory size. All you have to do is to convince them 
that you "know a bank" where they would be happier. 
The native speckled trout were always there. Seven or 
eight years ago the rainbows were planted and have 
thrived, spreading both up and down. One was taken 
last summer near the bay within a few rods of my shop. 
The German brown trout were planted a few years ago 
and have grown in size and numbers very fast. A friend 
and myself each took one longer than my arm on the 
last day of the season last year. Mine measured 215^ 
inches, which would reach from where my arm leaves the 
body to the crotch between the thumb and hand. Have 
just measured with a good 2-foot rule. Ed's fish meas- 
ured an inch more, but I am suspicious his arm is a 
trifle longer than mine, E. Hough, in the issue of 
March 24, in speaking of the Pere Marquette, tells of 
fish being hooked that were as "long as your arm," but 
gives pounds as being the heaviest landed. I don't 
doubt that they have hooked fish as long as the one 
before mentioned, for I find my arm is shorter than I 
should have guessed, being only 19 inches on the front 
side, and to the tip of my middle finger 26 inches. I 
manned the net and landed for a friend a rainbow that 
weighed 3^2 pounds and measured 21 inches. I have 
caught one that weighed 4^ pounds and seen one that 
weighed 5 pounds. Wash Pound, for many years a con- 
ductor on the G. R. & I, R. R., and formerly a station 
master in the Union Depot in Grand Rapids, caught one 
of 6y2 pounds, and C. Germaine secured a fish of 6% 
pounds. I heard from a reliable source of one man who 
last season got both a 2-pound speckled trout and an- 
other, either a rainbow or German brown, that weighed 
6IA pounds dressed. I am tempted to keep the climax 
until I have heard again from Mr. Hough and the Pere 
Marquette, but it is hard to get the stopper in while there 
is such a whopper in the bottle, so here goes: 
Four miles up the river is a dam, a pond and the before 
mentioned power house, where the wheels go around to 
the end that we may have light on our city streets. Un- 
der the power house is a wheel and under the wheel is 
a deep, deep hole. In the power house was a man, Pete 
by name, who loved to watch the trout play in the deep 
hole under the wheel. Now, one day, Pete saw a big 
fish in said hole. Coincidences often occur, and in this 
case the coincidence was that there was a spear within 
easy reach, and, human nature being weak, Pete speared 
that fish, and it tipped the scales at gj^ pounds. But 
alas for Pete. Had he been as wise before as he was 
after he would not have told the tale so freely, for it soon 
reached the ears of the authorities, who seized his car- 
nal body and made him pay the State penalties in the 
sum of $27,50. Pete doesn't spear any more fish, or, if 
he does 
To illustrate that one must have his luck along and 
right on tap all the time, I will spin a little yarn, as we 
sailors put it. Three years ago last summer ray wife 
drove into town from camp, and overtaking on the road 
a thirteen-year-old boy, then unknown to her by name, 
invited him to go up and stay a few days. She had 
watched his eager interest and helpfulness while I was 
securing minnows for bait in the bay, and thought he 
"ought to go fishing," and judged he would be welcome 
in camp; and events proved her to be correct in both 
particulars. He hurried to his hotel, collected an old 
jointed bamboo pole and a brass reel (his father having 
taken everything else in that line with him on a yacht- 
ing trip to Lake Superior) and started. I had a short 
silk fine I had discarded, which he took and proceeded 
to fish. Three days he worked, undaunted by bad 
weather, without getting anything to speak of. The 
morning of the fourth and his last day was clear, with 
a cold north wind blowing, but he started up stream dan- 
gling a minnow on a short line until, coming to a very 
swift rilfie with a high clay bank rising from the edge of 
the water, he dropped his bait over a small log, where 
none of us wise ones would have wasted an instant's 
time. Slap! There was one just there, and he did not 
wait for the minnow to more than touch water. The 
boy clapped the butt of his rod under one leg and lifted, 
just as we used to when pitching hay, and lo! a 4}/i-pound 
rainbow shot up over his head and hit the bank 10 feet 
behind him. Letting out a mighty yell, he dropped the 
rod, and throwing him.self on the fish as it came down 
the bank he whooped and shouted until my boj', who is 
a little younger, came to his assistance. Then, each get- 
ting a good hold of the gills of the fish, they carried him 
back into the brush, and taking a piece of the line with 
which he was caught, passed it double through the gills 
and started in triumph for camp. On the way there the 
double strand of line broke under the weight of the fish. 
Now, how did the single strand hold to throw the fish 
over the boy's head and 10 feet up the bank if it was 
not that luck was with him and absent from the fish? • 
The boy introduced himself as Nelson Maynard, a son 
of ex-Attorney-General Maynard, whom I had met and 
known twelve years before in Grand Rapids. He caught 
another fish of about 2 pounds and expressed them both 
home. 
The Rev. D. Cochlin, of the Congregational Church 
here, is a devoted fly-fisherman, and a successful one, 
too. He caught two big basketfuls in one lucky day, 
and if I remember right has caught at least two rain- 
bows of over 5 pounds. 
But if any one comes here expecting to get a basket 
of big ones every day he will be disappointed. They are 
not the rule. Many who have come here with large ex- 
pectations and left with small restilts declare the stream 
fished out; but this is not so. They are there in plenty, 
but are well fed and adepts in all the arts that vex the 
angler's soul. 
Our favorite flies are first and always one royal coach- 
man sornewhere on the line; then professor, Reuben 
Wood, silver doctor, silver and brown hackle, Parma- 
chenee, Belle and white miller. No. 6 hooks are small 
enough. I prefer No. 4 usually. 
If any one who can manipulate the fly a la Taylor comes 
along next season I want him to come in and see me. 
I'll hitch up the old horse, take him up the river and turn 
him loose where I know there are fish and take a lesson 
or two. I have wasted valuable hours at it and shall 
probably waste many more unless some kind angler 
straying in these parts will take pity on me and show 
me how. 
I am not going to spill ink inviting Mr. Hough to 
come up and try hollering in my rain barrel, but if he 
should come this way and I get wind of it I will get out 
jny club and endeavor to take him just at the base of 
the ear. I haven't any stern wheel ducks or air holes 
that spout bullheads in a living geyser, but I can show 
him several and various holes where there have been 
caught trout that were longer than his arm. I haven't 
any idea that he can come this way, for I believe he has 
more invitations on file than he could accept if he lived 
a hundred years and didn't have to work; but if he does 
T hope he will bring the Forest and Stream luck along. 
Th« mention of a hundred years reminds me that 
Uncle Dan Whipple, an old hunter and trapper living 
a few miles west of here, was the honored guest at a ban- 
quet given by some of his friends on his one hundredth 
birthday, which occurred a few weeks ago. He walks 
into town and back and is hale and hearty. The story 
is told that he stepped into a shooting gallery one day 
last summer, and, picking up a rifle, knocked all the boys' 
scores into a cocked hat. 
Guess I'd better stop, or this will get to rambling, 
like the story of the widow's ram in "Roughing It." 
V. E. Montague. 
Traver.se Citv, Mich, 
Floundering After Flounders. 
MassapequAj Long Island, April 2. — Most people in- 
terested in fishing or sports of any kind think it neces- 
sary to travel many miles West or South to discover game 
of sufficient importance to warrant any enthusiasm in 
the catching, and especially many of them may feel a real 
contempt for such a common fish as the flounder, which 
lias never to the writer's knowledge been poetically or 
artistically considered. Nevertheless, there are condi- 
tions and circumstances which render this fishing romantic 
and enjoyable enough to attract even the most poetic 
and astute fisherman. 
Probably more New Yorkers go "floundering" in the 
.spring of the year than trouting or any other kind of 
fishing. This is due simply to the omnipresence of the 
flounder. You can find him anywhere from the Long 
Island Sound to the Harlem River, and from the Great 
South Bay to the Narrows, and from there to the Hudson. 
People go up to Pelhara Bay and catch them by the score, 
and down into Jamaica Bay and haul them in by the 
hundreds. At this spring time of the year the flounders 
come out of their muddy quarters hungry and ravenous 
for food, and they bite and swallow whatever morsel of 
bait you may drop down to them. 
The flounder is not a gamy fish, but it sometimes pulls 
hard — especially when large and heavy — and above all 
you do not have to wait long for him to make, up his 
mind whether he wants to get caught. When the gamy 
trout bites, the sharp pull and rush send a thrill of joy 
down the pole to the hands of the sportsman, but the 
long waits between the bites are often discouraging. 
Floundering is very different; it is more like crabbing. 
You drop your line overboard and in less time than it 
takes to tell it, you have a bite. Nine amateurs out of 
every ten will call floundering the better sport every time, 
owing partly to the fact that they lack the patience and 
skill necessary to appreciate the little niceties and aesthetics 
of trouting. Besides, most amateurs judge their catch 
more by bulk and weight than by any quality of the fish. 
This also operates in favor of the flounders, and makes a 
point for them that all beginners give due weight to. 
But fishing for flounders early in the season sometimes 
has its drawbacks, as we discovered recently in Jamaica 
Bay. We went out one bright morning in March in a 
small skiff and valiantly rowed five miles against a strong 
tide, and then casting anchor just off the channel where 
the fish were known to hang out, we rested a while arid 
then proceeded to drop our lines overboard. As the tide 
was a pretty brisk one, we loaded the hundred feet of line 
with heavy sinkers, and whenever we caught a fish it 
seemed as if. we were hauling in a small whale. The 
uncertain weather of March renders life on the salt 
water a little unpleasant at times, and though the morning 
opened bright and clear, it was soon manifest from the 
appearance of the scurrying clouds that we would have 
a typical March day. Some fishermen tell you that it is 
on such windy days when the surface of the water is 
ruffled that the flounders strike the best. Our experience 
seemed to verify this fact, for we soon began to haul in 
the big flat fish as fast as we could handle the lines. In 
less than an hour we had nearly half a hundred flounders, 
varying in size from pound to big 5 and 6 pounders. 
This good luck kept our enthusiasm up to such a pitch 
that we heeded not weather or waves. 
We might have continued on this way indefinitely had 
not two things happened. One was the gradual with- 
drawal of the fish from our vicinity, and as the bites 
became fe\Yer ahd far between, somebody looked up at 
the clouds and remarked ; 
"It's, getting squally. Don't you think we'd better get 
back to shore?" 
Nobody seconded this proposition, but ten minutes 
later another of the party indicated his willingness to land 
on dry earth again by violently parting with his breakfast. 
Then we all realized for the first time that our small boat 
was rocking in a most dangerous manner in the waves of 
the channel. The tide was rushing out to meet the ocean, 
and the wind was coming up from the opposite direction 
in heavy squalls. The two met in a violent little dispute 
which caused the waves to rear ixp in anger and show 
their teeth. Now, for the benefit of those who disclaim 
any pleasure or attraction in floundering for flat fish, I 
assert that we were so deeply absorbed in our fun that 
not one of us noticed this state of the elements until one 
of our number became sea sick. Then our desire to get 
back to dry land possessed us with such force that we 
weighed anchor without even trying to haul in our lines. 
Unfortunately, as soon as the anchor was pulled up 
our boat was thrown into the trough of the sea and 
drifted rapidly otit into the worst part of the channel. It 
was then a question of wind or waves. One pulled us 
seaward and the other shoreward. We had one pair of 
oars, and these we put overboard just as quickly as possi- 
ble, and one of the most skillful rowers took his position 
on the seat to turn the tide of battle in favor of the wind. 
At this juncture, just when our ship seemed balanced be- 
tween the sky and water, one of the long fishing hues 
cavorted around and tangled itself almost hopelessly with 
three others trailing over the side. There was no ques- 
tion about somebody having a bite, and from the actions 
of the line we judged it to be a big fish. But we were so 
anxious about our getting ashore that we did not even 
stop to haul in the tangled lines. It might have been well 
for us had we taken time to do this, for then the accident 
might never have happened. The expert rower of th* 
crowd raised his oars high above the white-capped waves, 
caught a good hold of the water, and pulled mightily for 
the shore. Then once more swinging his oar upward 
he caught the tangled lines, and the next wave striking it 
at the same moment knocked it out of hi? grasp. We all 
