890 
^FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 1 6, 1901. 
under us, but this made no difference, for again did the 
birds go sailing by to the right or far to the left. 
We sat up and held a council of war, as the birds still 
came up wind only to rocket up in the air and pass out of 
gun shot. Our afternoon shooting was certainly hoodoed 
from some unknown cause. I got disgusted and started 
down toward the spring for a drink, and, walking too 
far, I had to come up wind again toward the blind, and in 
doing so I got directly in line with that discarded can of 
Limburger. Gee whiz ! but it was strong and odoriferous. 
And the closer I got to it the more T thought. I got my 
drink, located the near-by tin, and when found I dug "a 
deep rut with my boot heel in tlie black soil, kicked in 
the can, stamped on it, scraped in the earth, and packing 
it down started once more for the blind. My friends 
were yet in consultation, and stood bolt upright as a 
low-flying flock of mallards approached. On they came, 
closer_ and closer, but instead of either rocketing or 
swerving to the right or left, thty continued their course 
and came straight for us, passing nicely over our heads 
and giving us an opportunity each to get in two barrels 
and have the satisfaction of seeing six mallards drop 
upon the ^open prairie. 
Suffice it to say that the birds now flew steadily and 
low; there was no more swerving; the shooting was 
simply excellent, and toward sundown the birds kept com- 
ing in one continuous, steady stream. 
_ I almost exploded a dozen times at the various explana- 
tions offered because of the changed conditions, but until 
the flight was over I said nothing about the burying of 
the Limburger tin. But while we could yet see, I asked 
my_ companions to come to the spring, and then and there 
I kicked up the dirt and exposed the buried tin, and then 
I gave my explanation. I told how, when I left tlie 
blind for a drink, I got too far down, and in turning I 
faced the wind blowing directly from that tin, and I 
said to myself, "I don't blame the ducks, I would dodge 
it myself. It is enough to stop a cattle stampede, let 
alone mallards, and I at once buried it. Did you not 
notice that I had hardly reached the blind before the 
birds flew low and right over us as in the morning? 
The moment they got wind of the unburied can you saw 
just how they acted. They knew something was dead 
some\yhere ahead of them, and they simply steered away 
from it. The case is as clear as a pike staflF. There can 
be no argument whatever. We had good shooting- while 
the can was unopened in the ba.sket during the morning, 
and we had good shooting after the empty tin was buried 
but you know yourselves that we had no shooting while 
the can lay upon the ground, and the mallards had to 
fly up wind over it." 
There was silence for a few moments after I had 
finished, when, as if in one voice, mv friends exclaimed 
•May be that was so after all." 
Charles Ceistadoro. 
Proprietors of fishing resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them m Forest and Stream. 
Snakes and Snake Stories. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Coahoma puts me in mind of old Joe Lewis. Joe was 
drmking pretty hard, and his friends, among Avhom 
was a physician, went to him one day after he had l)een 
on a httle spree and told him tlic signs were about right 
for him to have an attack of delcrium tremens the next 
time he touched liquor. The warning availed not, how- 
ever and in a week or two he was at it again, and his 
friends called upon hrm in a Ijody the next morning 
about headache time, finding him in bed. as they antici- 
pated, with a wet towel wrapped around his head. The 
last man to enter the room carried a live rat in a wire 
cage, and while his companions greeted the sick man he 
turned the rat loose and it ran under the bed. The men 
made Joe believe they were reallv very much alarmed at 
his condition, and as they talked to him tliey kicked un- 
der the bed and out ran the rat. 
"Look at that rat !" cried Joe. when he saw it. 
The men pretended they saw nothing, but that they 
were even more alarmed about their friend than ever 
Ihe rat had landed under the washstand, and when the 
doctor went there to wet the towel, he kicked him out 
again, whereupon Joe sprang up in bed and swore there 
was a rat. 
"Now, Joe," said the doctor, as he and his confederates 
grasped him and held him down in bed, "vou've sot 'em 
at last. There is no rat !" 
'i He poor fellow sank back in terror, and in a few min- 
utes he had sworn never to touch liquor again The 
door was opened a crack in the meantime, the rat 
scampered out when Joe was looking, and the men pre- 
pared to leave, and were going out the door when Joe 
called them back and exclaimed: "Sav, fellows. I know 
I ve been drmkmg too much, and I intended to swear 
ott an the time anyhow, and I mean to stick to it but 
Im just going to let you in on a little ioke. It's on 
you. I didn t see any rat at all !" 
Now I fully expected Coahoma to say it was not so 
about that snake crawling on the picture moulding, and 
that he was just jokmg with us. That he didn't see any 
rat at all. But here he comes with a new story in Avhich 
there are more snakes, and in greater variety, than in 
any case meutioned in the text books. He sees an old 
Jady sitting in a cage with all those snakes, one at least 
of an extinct species, and one of them holding up his 
head to have his chin tickled! 
enviously speaks of my lo-foot snake 
as two s-foot ones, and I now regret not having said it 
was eleven, as he would then have had to hire some 
hguring done for him or else let my snake alone. And 
why can t a man tell his own snake stories and let me 
tell mine? 
In this connection the fair and impartial reader of 
Forest and Stream will recall that' some time ago 
Horace Kephart to d a story about a snake crawling up 
a big white oak. like a fly crawling up a window pane, 
^tL 'T* ^?^H"°^^' ^^iA his pneumatic 
tired snake didn' start all the trouble' And him a 
ibranan of a big library, and every night when he locks 
^t\u^^^ °" ^ stack of learned and reliable books, 
some of them on zoology! When I think of his trick 
snake and Coahoma's extinct viper that bite'^ witk his 
t^^* ^^'^ SP^^^ of e't'ier of them 
with that absolute calm M'hich mtlst be aonarent to any 
one who reads th?s, q^^^;^ Krn^Em 
The Trout Stteam* 
Fair river, flowing- swift and free. 
From fragrant realms of spruce and pine, 
Where hemlocks wave their sombre plumes 
And balsams turn the air to wine. 
Now rippling on with music sweet, 
Like some bright stream h-om fairyland. 
While silken weeds like pennants green 
Wave softly o'er the yellow sand; 
• 
And where thy course with gi-aceful curve 
Forms near the shore a crystal pool, 
The lofty pines like minster towers 
Reflect their shadows green and cooh 
Now sweeping round a pebbly shoal, 
To glide beneath some mossy bank, 
Where the wild rose in beauty blooms, 
And brakes and fa-ns grow green and rank. 
Or rushing down with sweep and swirl, 
Thy flashing waters laughing go, 
Foaming among the mossy rocks. 
To seek the quiet pool below. 
Here, when the evening sunlight throws 
Its dappled tints of green and gold. 
The red deer seeks thy flowering moss 
And drinks thy ripples clear and cold. 
While from the silver beeches' towers, 
Where day's last radiance lingers long. 
The hermit thrush with voice divine 
Pours forth its matchless even-song. 
Here far removed from dust and crowds. 
The greed and strife that never cease. 
I come to find amid thy scenes 
The healing balm of rest and peace. 
To lightly cast the tempting fly. 
And hear the music of the reel; 
Or see the rainbow flash of trout. 
And all an angler's rapture feel. 
Flow on, fair stream, through coming years, 
By forest green and flowery lea, 
AVhile other pilgrims seek thy shrines 
Jn summer days I shall not see. 
But let me feel thy charm to-day 
And rest upon thy fragrant sod. 
Here find my boyhood's faith again 
And hear "the still, .small voice" of God. 
Prairie River, Wis. Henry J. Sawe. 
A Day on a Trout Stream^ 
Eight o'clock on a beautiful morning last June found 
Diana and mc jogging along over the road behind one of 
Hobbs' horses. Our destination was a little trout stream 
of which we had heard, but had never seen. The occa- 
sion was particularly interesting to us, from the fact 
that Diana had never caught a trout, and was also to 
christen her new rod. I had j"ust broken the "chain." 
and looked forward to two or three days of freedom 
from the cares and worries inseparable from business. 
The fresh morning air and sun.shine, and the beauty of 
the distant mountains produced such a feeling of exhilara- 
tion that care rolled from our minds and left us as light- 
hearted as children. 
We soon reached a place where a stream ran under 
the road, and judged it to be the one for which we were 
looking. Inquiry at a near-by farmhouse confirmed this, 
and. as we drew up into the yard, a young farmer who 
appeared on the scene told us it was the Nineteen-Mile 
Brook. He was clad only in a pair of trousers and a 
sleeveless shirt, but he also had on a beautiful coat of 
sunburn. 
While putting up the horse I inquired as to whether our 
quest for trout was likely to be a success, also asking 
where, in all probability, we would have the best luck. 
After sizing up the outfit he slowly drawled. "Wal, most 
of them city fellers don't fish up any further than the 
woods, and they don't get many trout, either." 
I replied that neither Diana nor I was afraid of a 
tussle with the underbrush, and asked him if there were 
any trout in the brook up in the woods. His reply, "Oh! 
there's trout there all right," seemed to give us the 
assurance that we need not return empty handed. 
The horse made comfortable, we started off over the 
fields hand in hand, feeling that we had not a care in 
the world. We crossed a pasture with quite a high knoll 
in the center, and on arriving at the top, somewhat out 
of breath, we stopped, speechless as well with admira- 
tion of the beautiful view outspread before us. 
A hard shower the night before had cleared the air, 
and the glimpses of the blue waters of the lake and the 
magnificent view of the distant mountains caused us to 
forget that we had only recently left the hot, dusty city. 
Tearing ourselves away from the lovely view, we 
plunged into the woods at the foot of the knoll, and, 
crossing bogs, climbing blow-downs and pushing our 
way through underbrush, followed the course of the little 
brook at least a mile, noting with blissful anticipation the 
pools and ripples of the beautiful little stream. 
Finally, not being able to pass any more likely looking 
spots, we dropped our lunch basket and other duffle 
on the ground and I jointed up Diana's Leonard for the 
first time, our plan being to fish down stream and let the 
line float ahead of us. 
Putting on the leader and impaling a barnyard-hackle 
on the hook, T pulled off a yard of line and told Diana 
to cast into a little pool and let the bait float down the 
current. 
I then started to joint up my own tried and true split 
bamboo, but had scarcely put on the first joint when I 
heard an exclamation. Looking quickly around. I beheld 
Diana standing on the bank, her rod held high in the 
air, and dangling from the end of the line a lusty little 
mountain trout. 
Diana's eyes were sparkling, and she exclaimed, "Oh, 
Nimrod ! ray first trout on my new rod" — I doubt not it 
was the proudest moment of her life. 
I dropped my rod, and quickly disengaging the strug- 
gling beauty from the hook, laid him on the grass, where 
he was duly admired. After a few moments' admiration, 
pity seemed to take the place of exultation in Diana's 
gentle breast, and she remarked, "Oh, dear ! what a shame 
to kill such a beautiful little fish." 
When it reached this point I quickly gathered some wet 
moss and rolled the trout up in it, and told her to go 
ahead and get another one. She obeyed to the letter, and 
with baiting her hook and taking off the fish, it was well 
along in the forenoon before I was able to get jointed up 
so that I might do a little fishing on my own account. 
The time passed all too quickly, and after having our 
lunch, we still had about half a mile of stream to fish. 
We started in, Diana going ahead and first fishing the 
pools. She soon came to me, however, the appearance of 
which, to my mind at least, was a sure guaranty of a 
trout; but Diana only saw the swirling water and the 
submerged roots and snags, with which she had by this 
time become too well acquainted. She demurred at drop- 
ping her hook into this pool, saying she was sure she 
woidd get snagged. "But," I insisted, "there is surely a 
trout in that hole." 
"But I am sure my line Avill get caught." she repeated, 
and so, knowing from long experience that further argu- 
ment was entirely useless, I dropped my own hook into 
the upper edge of the pool, steering it clear of snags, and 
letting it sink to the bottom, in the dark, swiftly flowing 
water. 
Instantly a savage rush took the line out, and as it 
straightened I pulled out on the bank the largest trout 
yet. eight inches to a dot, almost black on the back, and 
with crimson and orange spots on his beautiful sides. 
I shall never forget the look of mingled shame, chagrin 
and envy on Diana's comely face. She almost wept. 
"Now, why," she naively remarked, "didn't I know 
enough to do that?" Man fashion, I retorted, "You 
wotdd have if you had taken my advice, but as you 
didn't, Diana, I wped your eye." She wanted to know 
what that meant. On my explanation she said she would 
catch another one out of that same place, but it was not to 
be — there were no more there. 
We continued taking here and there a lovely, spotted 
darling of the mountain stream, Diana minding not in the 
least the savage attacks of mosquitoes, or being obliged to 
climb over the piles of brush and fallen trees with which 
the banks of the stream were lined. 
The sun was well down in the west when we finally 
emerged from the woods. As we found we had twenty- 
four splendid trout, every one well over the legal limit, 
and not caring particularly to fish the stream through the 
meadow, along which we could see the "city men's" path. 
\ve somewhat reluctantly unjointed our rods, both agree- 
ing that the day had been a red-letter one. 
We walked back to the farmhouse, hitched up the horse 
and were soon on our journey to the hotel which was 
our temporary stopping place, with glorious visions of a 
supper of broiled trout, which were afterward realized to 
the full. Nimrod. 
Weights of Salmon for Inches of 
Length. 
A[r. E. Sturdy writes in the London Fishing Gazette: 
Tliough the possibility of arriving pretty closely at the 
weight of a salmon from one easily-taken dimension, 
like that of length, must have .suggested itself to most 
old anglers, I do not remember to have seen the thing 
put in very definite shape, which I shall now endeavor 
to do. 
My attention was drawn seriouslv to the question 
many years ago in this way: Towards the close of a 
season, when for a week or two I had only been getting 
grilse, sea-trout and small salmon. I landed one morning 
a very long-looking, ugly old male fish. My companion 
and my gillie, both very e.xpcricuced, pronounced it a 
monster, the biggest we had ever caught, etc., and 1' 
niy.self, seeing it reaching nearly to the heels of the litHt 
man as he carried it some quarter mile to the boat, 
began to share their hopes. In the boat, however, was 
a spinning-rod. on which was marked the length of a 44- 
pouud fish, and the new capture was found to be shorter 
than this by more than four inches. Calculating that tlvj 
difference alone would make pounds less than 41 
Iiounds, and seeing its wretched condition. I did not 
hesitate to bet it was under 30 pounds, which it turned 
out to be, only scaling 28 pounds. 
Some further obser\-ations showed nie that even a 
very imperfect system was a great aid to the unassisted 
eye, and I set to work to find a suitable standard. First 
I tried and used for years the rule that the pounds were 
e'qual to two-thirds of the cube of the length expressM 
in feet. This system, which gives 18 pounds as the 
weight of a •3-foot fish, worked fairly well with small 
fish; and with very old ones, but gave too small a weight 
for well-conditioned fish, and was besides troublesome 
to work. 
Looking around, then, for something more suitable iii 
both these respects, I found that for simplicity of calcu- 
lation nothing approached a scale based on a 50-pound 
fish measuring 50 inches. It was only necessary to mul- 
tiply the cube of the inches by four, dot off the last four 
figures as decimals, and the thing was done— just one 
minute's work. This theory, which assessed a 3-foot fish 
at 18 2-3 pounds, still under-estimated the weight of a 
well-conditioned salmon, but answered xny purpose suffi- 
ciently well, inasmuch as the only fish whose weight T 
was in a hurry to know were the very big ones, nearly 
always old males, light for their length. 
Now for average fish. I have prepared the accompany- 
ing table for lengths from 30 inches to 50 inches, based 
on the supposition that a salmon measuring in a straight 
line 3 feet from tip of snout to fork of tail weighs 20 
pounds. I selected this standard as being simple to 
remember, and as agreeing very closely with the pro- 
portions of the fish of which I was landings the largest 
numbers — namely, those of from 15 pounds to 24 pounds. 
