112 
FOREST* AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 7, 1903. 
The Veteran's Pool. 
Fly-fishing for trout is undoubtedly the most sports- 
manlike and enjoyable way in which to lure the gamy 
fish from his native haunts, but when the conditions pre- 
vent the casting of a fly or when it is late in the season, 
other pleasant modes of fishing may be employed. 
Sometimes on a stream, especially one flowing through 
woods or forest, the overhanging trees, thick bushes and 
undergrowth along the banks make it impossible to cast 
a fly. and if the angler would be successful he must adopt 
a stout bait rod. 
Near our camp in the North Woods flows a large and 
beautiful trout stream. Rising on a small woodland lake 
it passes windingly through the forest, gradually broaden- 
ing out. and finally joining the Beaver River some miles 
from its headwaters. For the first mile or so the^ water 
goes tumbling and leaping over moss-covered rocks and 
logs, here and there sinking into a shallow, pebbly basin. 
Below these series of miniature cascades are found the 
trout pools, although sometimes they are separated by 
falls and swift water. At times the stream on its course 
passes into a bright open beaver meadow, flowing quietly 
through the tall yellow grass and alder bushes and finally 
wanders back to the shadowy, fragrant woods. In the 
depths of the amber-colored water the trout He lazily 
moving their broad tails and hungrily waiting for the 
fisherman to drop his bait. 
One bright, clear morning toward the end of August, 
the "Veteran," always the leader and instigator of the 
fishing and shooting expeditions, proposed to Freddie and 
mo that Ave should go over to the stream that morning 
and try the fishing. "Did we want to go? Of course we 
did. The assent was only too readily given and the pros- 
pect hailed with delight. The "Veteran" informed us of 
a very good hole he knew of where the trout were 
especially plentiful. This pool was easily accessible if a 
person knew how to reach it, but very inaccessible to 
those who did not know the way. In fact, the "Veteran" 
was about the only one who knew the best route, and so 
we decided to try our luck in this pool. 
We now gathered the fishing tackle together, which 
consisted of a couple of light bait-rods, hooks, lines, 
sinkers, etc., and then proceeded to fill the bait can liber- 
ally with large, fat earth worms. These, together with a 
bottle of "fly pizen" carried by the "Veteran." formed 
our outfit for the expedition, and about half past nine 
in the morning we were ready to start. 
The morning was an ideal one. Huge, flakey white 
clouds floated against the azure blue sky, and the woods 
a-; we drove through them were filled with pleasant sights 
and sounds, while'the pure, sweet air that filled our nos- 
trils was like a strong, healthful tonic. 
Having driven about one and a half miles from camp 
we reached a large clearing in the forest, and here the 
wagon left us. The "Veteran" now took the lead and 
struck of? on an old, rough carry. 
The walk through the woods was as enjoyable as the 
drive over, if not'more so. The sunlight streaming in 
fell on the rugged trunks of the forest trees, turning the 
gray bark to a golden brown, and here and there a quiver- 
ing ray enveloped a bunch of delicate ferns in a sparkling 
misty haze. Bluejays uttered their sharp, wild cry above 
our heads, and we now and then caught the warble of a 
red-eyed virco, that faithful summer songster. We kept 
to this carry for half a mile or tnore, and then the 
"Veteran" turned to the left on another worn path, and 
after walking a few minutes we came suddenly on a 
wide, deep brook. The old corduroy bridge had been 
swept away, probably by spring freshets, and only a shaky 
log remained on which to cross. The "Veteran" went 
first and parsed over safely to the opposite side. I fol- 
lowed .TJid hopped across frog fashion, for the log was 
as slippery as glass and the dark, cold waters beneath 
looked far from inviting. Reaching the other side I stood 
up beside the "Veteran" on the remnant of the bridge, 
when, without warning, crash ! he went through the rot- 
ten logs, only saving himself from going in by gripping a 
smairbush. In the scramble and excitement which fol- 
kwcd, the bottle of "fly pizen" fell in the brook. At first 
we were much dismayed over the loss, but fortunately for 
us we were not aimoyed by any "punkies" or mosquitoes 
that morning. Freddie crossed the treacherous log in 
s;:fety and we continued our way, leaving the path and 
shortly after climbed a beaudful ridge covered with tall 
]iine and spruce trees. The view as we looked out be- 
tween the smooth massive trunks of the trees was ex- 
quisite. A vista of rolling wood-clad hills, here and there 
broken by a clump of huge stately pines, and far to the 
northeast a faint blue line of mountains. We stood for 
seme time enjoying the beauty of the scene, and then 
descended the ridge. At the bottom there was a level 
stretch of marshy ground and when we had traversed this 
wc suddenly caught the murmur of the stream. In an- 
01 her minute we stood among the alder bushes border- 
ing its banks and gazed with eager eyes iiito the dark, 
cool depths of the coveted pool. "Well, here we are," 
s^iid the "Veteran." "Now bait up and go to work. Two 
fishing in a hole like this is enough at one time, and I 
have done a .good deal of this fishing, whereas you two 
have not." And lighting a cigarette he seated hmiself 
under a tamarack where he could watch the proceed.ngs 
while Freddie and I baited our hooks with feverish haste 
c n the Irank. 
Taking our places some feet apart, and standmg well 
back in the alder bushes, we began operations by c:are- 
fully letting the bait drop slowly into the water. No 
sooner had mine become well submerged than I felt a 
sharp tug on the line, and, giving a terrific jerk, out came 
the hook, bait gone, but no trout. A shout at this 
moment from Freddie attracted my attention, and I 
looked over in time to see him swing a nice fish from 
the pool. The fun now became fast and furious. No 
sooner would the bait disappear than a lusty trout seized 
it hungrily. Our fingers became thumbs as we 
siruggled to fasten the wriggling worms to the hooks, 
for each and every time the wily fish would snap it otf. 
Once a strong, sudden jerk nearly took the rod front 
my hands, andl struck sharply, but failed to hook the 
fish. Baiting up as quickly as the excitement and condi- 
tions would allow, I threw in again and was rewarded 
by feeling the tug. repeated, this time with success. A 
wide swirl, followed by two or three desperate rashes, 
^nd with a shout of triumph I succeeded in swinging out 
a fine, pound trout. How his red and gold sides flashed 
and gleamed as he lay flopping in the grass ! It was a 
pity he could not have fought longer, but splashing and 
noise in a small pool intimidates and frightens the other 
fish, and thus spoils the fishing for some time after. 
Highly elated over the catch, I baited up quickly and 
dropped in again. Gradually the lure sank into the dark 
water, and before it had reached the bottom there was a 
slight twitch on the line. Breathlessly I waited for it to 
be repeated. Another shake, this time stronger, the line 
was pulled suddenly taut, and the fish was hooked. Away 
he went, plunging and rushing, here and there, but in a 
few minutes shared the fate of his comrade. He weighed 
three-quarters of a pound and the two made a very pretty 
brace of fish. 
Hearing another shout from my fellow fisherman, ac- 
companied by a splash and a laugh from the "Veteran," 
I perceived Freddie in the act of crawling out of the 
bushes on the bank. With a wild effort he regained his 
feet and clambered to a place of safety. In trying to 
throw the bait under the bank on the opposite side he 
had taken a step too near the edge and had fallen in. 
Fortunately only one leg received a ducking, which did 
not interfere with the fishing, only causing a good 
laugh. 
Once in swinging a fish from the pool I saw that the 
trout had become uncontrollable, and was coming straight 
for my head, and failing to duck in time, he caught me 
a sounding smack on the side of my face, which turned 
the laugh on me. More beauties kept on coming, and all 
under size were of course thrown back. Finally the 
"Veteran," who had been paclcing the creel with trout, 
called out : "This basket is chuck full, and not another 
fi.sh will go in, so I guess you had better quit fishing." In 
a few minutes we were ready to start, but before leaving 
threw the remainder of the worms into the pool, and 
then, shouldering our trap,s, we bade a reluctant farewell 
to this lovely spot. 
On climbing the pine knoll we had another glimpse of 
the beautiful view. A gentle breeze stirred softly among 
the tree tops, and the sweet, clear note of a white- 
throated sparrow reached our ears from the swamp below, 
riunging down the hillside we soon came to the stream 
with its treacherous log. Crossing over this time with- 
out any mishap, we continued our way and in less time 
than it takes to tell were at the wagon. We reached 
camp after a brisk, pleasant drive, dirty, hungry, but 
happy. Counting the fish we found we had thirty-three, 
the largest weighing a pound, and the others varying 
from eight to fourteen ounces. 
In the evening, when we were gathered around the 
comfortable old stove in the sitting room discussing the 
adventures of the day, Freddie and I came to the conclu- 
sion that the "Veteran's" pool had proved a grand suc- 
cess, and neither of us would ever forget the pleasures of 
the trip. Camilla. 
The S?a Trout of the Escuminac. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
For the last three years I have enjo\'ed the privilege 
of fishing the above-named river in the Province of 
Quebec, and the discussion which has arisen between 
Mr. Venning and Mr. Hallock relative to the proper 
classification of the sea trout, has suggested to me 
that perhaps a few items from my experiences might 
be interesting to some of your readers. 
The Escuminac is a beautiful, clear, cold stream 
emptying into the Bay Chaleur from the north, and 
about forty miles from Matapcdia, and like the Nou- 
velle, is essentially a trout river. 
If the season be a normal one we expect the first 
run of trout about July i, and the second run ten days 
later. An abundance of spring rains delays their ad- 
vent into the river some seasons until the last of 
July, but the majority of first runs will be during the 
first week of the month. While on the river the first 
two seasons we made our headquarters with Dan 
Brown and family, near the mouth of the river. "Uncle 
Dan" as he is called, was for a number of years guar- 
dian of the river, and aside from being an exemplary. 
God-fearing citizen, he is a born angler and a beautiful 
caster. To Uncle Dan (may his shadow never lessen) 
I am indebted for much interesting tradition concern- 
ing what the angling was in the river years ago, and 
of the coming and going of the trout. From the mouth 
of the river up to the falls is about twenty miles (it 
depending not a little of whom you may inquire), and 
that is as far up as we ever fish. Above the falls the 
water seems to be just as plentiful, but no trails have 
ever been swamped, and the angling ends on that 
stream with the trails. 
Now, to me it seems a very curious fact that the 
pools and reaches of the lower five or six miles of 
the river never contain any large trout, but such is 
the case. There are grand pools, an abundance of 
shelter under banks and alders, but never a trout could 
I get to rise. And I have wondered much thereat. 
But in the very lowest waters, that which was affected 
by each incoming tide, I have seen countless thou- 
sands of fingerling trout. We see fry all the way up 
the river, but in no such numbers as the fingerlings in 
the tidal waters. Two hundred miles above its mouth 
the river is crossed by the Bay Chaleurs railway. As I 
have always had a yearning to see these trout on their 
journey to the nuptial pools, I have stood on the 
bridge hour after hour and watched for some member 
of the ascending hosts, but not one did I ever see._ "I 
wonder why." Do these fish enter the river at night 
and move steadily on until daylight, or a given point is 
reached? It seems very strange that not one could 
be seen. 
As there was no fishing on the lower waters, and 
stopping near the mouth necessitated a great deal of 
travel, a year ago this winter a nice commodious 
camp was built sixteen miles up, which locates us right 
in center of the fishing and— the black flies. _ These 
have been known to annoy some people. During the 
early fishing the trout remain in the pools, but when 
the water begins to yield to the effect of the sun they 
seek the shelter of the banks and the overhanging 
bushes, and then to get your fly where the concealed 
fisb can se? it requires skill, patience and profanity. 
Alas! oftentimes much of the latter. But they are 
there, great spotted beauties and as plenty as angler 
can wish. When you fasten to a four pound fish, after 
digging him out from under the alders, he is very liable 
to exhibit a frantic desire to return to cover, and the 
angler who is content to wield a 4-ounce rod crowds 
big wads of experience into five or ten minutes, if he 
saves his fish. But it is worth all the disappointment 
if he brings one in three to net. 
Before we started on our first trip to the river, I 
wrote to Uncle Dan and asked his advice about the 
proper flies, rods, etc. His reply was to the effect 
that all the flies we needed were two varieties, viz., the 
"thunder-and-lightning" and the "mouse-lure." I failed 
to find either one of these patterns at any one of the 
Boston tackle houses, so we concluded to chance the 
first trip with different varieties of salmon flies, and a 
good assortment of Rangeley Lakes bugs. You can 
judge of our chagrin and mortification when we realized 
that the Escuminac trout would rise just as quickly 
to a Japanese umbrella, as they would to any fly in 
our possession. Here was a dilemma. I sent to Mr. 
Baillie in St. Johns. He did not have them. Then we 
sent to Campbellton, and a dealer there telegraphed 
to Quebec, and we got the much desired thunder and 
lightning, and trout. I see it frequently stated that 
the sea trout will rise to "any old thing." I guess the 
Escuminac trout are a bit particular. 
For size our fish averaged good. We seldom net 
one under two pounds in weight, and I have taken 
three fish successively which aggregated over sixteen 
pounds. 
I have netted a fresh run trout whose silvery sides 
would rival a salmon's, spots just faintly showing, the 
median line alone pronounced. And late in the season 
I have taken them robed in colors that would make 
a rainbow look like a pneumatic tire. 
In conclusion, I wish to add that it is my humble, 
unscientific opinion that these fish ascend the river to 
deposit their spawn and observe the various functions 
of reproduction, J- W. B. 
Trolling for Bass. 
Cincinnati, O., Jan. ig.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
Dr. Henshall, in his "Book of the Black Bass," makes 
the assertion that he formed the acquaintance of one 
fish in the Miami River, near Cincinnati, but I am 
afraid it would tax the good doctor's skill to the full- 
est extent to strike up a flirtation with that grand game 
fish in that stream at present. The Little and Big 
Miamis and the Whitewater rivers are within eafiy ac- 
cess of this city, but the fishing, so far as the black 
bass is concerned, is nil. These streams appear to be 
splendidly adapted for the bass, but seiners and dyna- 
miters have wrought his undoing, and he is not 
found. 
But there are several stocked ponds in this neigh- 
borhood that yielded some fine fish the past season, 
and proved a boon to those fishermen of this vicinity 
who had no opportunity of visiting more favorable 
localities. There were quite a goodly number of four 
and five-pound bass captured, and one caught and 
weighed in my presence tipped the beam of a gro- 
cer's scales at seven pounds and six ounces. As sev- 
eral of your correspondents, who have visited the most 
propitious angling regions, seem to consider a bass 
of four or five pounds a leviathan, it appears as though 
the humbler brethren of the angle of this neighborhood 
might go further and fare worse. 
Most of the larger fish were captured with surface 
casting trolls, and as I believe I was one of the first 
in this vicinity to use a lure of that description in ang- 
ling for bass, I feel myself in a measure responsible 
for their introduction. It was to draw out some ex- 
pressions of opinion as to the merits of surface cast- 
ing trolls from a sportsmanlike point of view that this 
was written. 
While I am merely an enthusiastic neophyte in the 
art of anghng, it may not be regarded as presumptu- 
ous in me to state what I regard as the meritorious 
features of these lures, which are as follows: Effec- 
tiveness, as on comparison with other baits they pro- 
duce better results, both as to size and number of fish 
taken. (Flies are excepted in this statement, as I 
have never had the good fortune to witness the per- 
formance of an expert in that branch of the art.) They 
are more humane than live bait, and this, to me, ap- 
pears to be a good and sufficient reason for their in- 
dorsement, as I never could and probably never will, be 
able to impale a live minnow or frog on a hook without 
feelings of compassion for its suffering, as evidenced 
in agonized writhings, which some of my philosophical 
friends assure me are merely the manifestations of re- 
flex action, but I am not persuaded of the truth of this. 
They are not pot-fishing devices, as it requires plenty 
of perseverance and more skill in casting them than 
the average pot-fisher possesses to produce good re- 
sults. Indeed, I have never seen a poor bait caster 
accomplish anything at all with them. These features, 
together with the fact that they are economical and 
do away with the trouble of procuring and preserving 
live bait in good condition, in my opinion, place them 
before any other form of lure, except the artificial fly, 
in the use of which it is my ambition to acquire dex- 
terity in the coming season. _ , 
The chief objection to these trolls is the multiplicity 
of hooks they contain, usually two and sometimes 
three triples, but from their size and conformity this 
cannot well be avoided, and leave them with adequate 
hook presentment. 
It was with the hope that this species of lure would 
receive what its merits or demerits deserve from some 
of your correspondents who are versed in the ethics 
of the art that this was written, and I pause for reply. 
W. F. Crugar. 
All communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., 
I^pw York, sind not to any individual connected with the paper. 
