March 7, T903.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
18© 
Broadbills at Larchmont* 
New York,, Feb. 27. — Editor Forest and Stream: One 
Saturday early in the month I was at the club house of 
the Larchmont Yacht Club and noticed from the window 
what appeared to be an enormous mass of sea weed ex- 
lending almost across the Baj'. The weather was thick 
and it was snowing a little. On inquiry I learned that 
this was a great flock of ducks, and, looking through a 
glass, could see what the}'' were for myself. People told 
me that the feed at the bottom of the bay was good, and 
that the birds had come there, at first a few, but gradually 
m increasing numbers, until now the flock had assumed 
this size, ^nd must have contained thousands of birds. 
It struck me as quite unusual to find, ducks in such 
great bodies so near New York City. H. 
Htjd ^iv^ ^iBJiing. 
Proprietors of fishing resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Stkeau. 
A Day with the Tyee. 
Few sportsmen in the East are familiar with the 
greatest game fish of Puget Sound, the- "tyee" or 
"king" salmon. This superb fish, which is known in 
British Columbia waters as the "spring" salmon, fre- 
quents the tide-rips of Puget Sound during the entire 
year, the best fishing, however, being in the months of 
August and September. During the winter, the 
"tyee" follows the schools of herring into the numer- 
ous land-locked harbors and small bays, and it is gen- 
erally May I before he appears on his summer feeding 
grounds in the swift current off Point Defiance, seven 
miles from Tacoma, Washington. 
About May i the herring, for some reason unknown 
to fishermen, suddenly leave winter quarters and ap- 
pear in countless thousands in the Narrows, off Point 
Defiance. Here the waters of Puget Sound rush 
through a narrow passage about four miles long, vary- 
ing in width from one to. two miles. The incoming 
flood tide pours around Point Defiance, forming an 
immense eddy, or mild form of whirlpool, about 300 
yards wide bj"- 500 yards long. On the outside edge of 
this eddy, the water banks up two to three feet high 
and rushes with tremendous speed for the opryosite 
shore, while the inside quieter waters run in t!ie op- 
posite direction. The herring frequent this eddy and 
the gamy "tyee" does his best to "decrease the sur- 
plus population." The "tyee," owing to his habit of 
pursuing his prey in such swift currents, is an im- 
mensely strong fish. The extreme breadth of his 
shoulder forms a hump just back of his head, and his 
inidcrshot jaw gives him the expression of a fighting 
bull-dog, as indeed he is, for he never gives up while 
life lasts. His back is dark green with black spots, 
like a trout, tail comparatively thin, and forked. In 
weight he varies from S to 72 pounds; a specimen of 
this size having been captured off the mouth of the 
Fraser River, British Columbia, by an English sports- 
man, with rod and line. This record salmon now 
adorns the walls of the Museum of Natural History, 
Victoria, B. C. 
The largest specimen I ever saw caught at Point De- 
fiance weighed 67 pounds, and was landed with a stout 
handJine by a Siwash Indian and his fat squaw. • They, 
not daring to land him in their shallow dug-out canoe, 
towed him around against the tide for about an hour, 
until he was completely exhausted, and then attempted 
to land him on the beach. During this operation the 
squaw, who was gaffing the fish, lost her balance and 
fell out of the canoe into three feet of ice cold water. 
As she fell, with the true sporting instinct of the In- 
dian, she grabbed the salmon around the middle, and 
the air was filled with fish and squaw alternately, un- 
til her husband Bruce caught her by the back of her 
dress and pulled them both ashore. The squaw at 
once sat down on the fish, and as she only weighs 350 
pounds, the king of the "tyees" met his Waterloo. 
I shall endeavor to point out in this article the best 
means of capturing this fish. The Indians, who live by 
the proceeds of their fishing, use a thick hand line, at 
the end of which they attach a wire three feet long, 
terminating in a large salmon hook. 
Before attaching this wire to their line, they run 
it through a herring, and fasten it on by a few skill- 
ful turns of a thread around the hen-ing's gills. Tliis 
is a most difficult knack for a white man to learn, as 
unless the herring moves through the water in an 
absolutely lifelike manner, the tyee will refiise to even 
look at it. 
About 30 feet above the hook the Indian ties a 
stone as large as a croquet ball for a sinker. As this 
stone frequently catches against the side of the canoe 
during one of the sahnon's terrific rushes, "halo fish" 
is the inevitable result. "Halo" is Siwash for "nit." 
Four 3-ears ago a typical old sportsman named Howe 
came to the conclusion that he would invent an arti- 
ficial bait to take the place of the ill-smelling herring. 
Acting on this idea, he made a darting spoon, shaped 
a little like a down-east bluefish squid. It is made 
of thin brass or silver, four inches long by one inch 
wide, very highly polished. The end nearest the line 
is round and spoon-shaped, with the bowl up. The 
end nearest the hook is pointed and turned down in 
the opposite direction. The hook is either soldered 
on this end and attached by a rivet to the middle of 
the bowl, or hangs free from the under side, in which 
case the shank is considerably shortened. 
I am of the opinion that the short hanging hook is 
the most effective, both for its hooking qualities and 
the lack of a lever furnished the fish. The line is at- 
tached to a swivel hung from the upper side of the 
bowl of the spoon about one inch from the end. This 
gives the spoon a peculiar darting motion, sideways, 
and up and down like a wounded herring, and, as. the 
spoon should always be kept very bright, the resem- 
blance is startling. 
I use an 8-foot split bamboo rod weighing about 12 
ounces; a Vom Hofe reel carrying 600 feet of 18 thread 
tarpon line; a lead sinker shaped like a boat's keel, 
weighing 16 ounces, in the top of which are set two 
brass staples, and in the end a wire clip; a 4-foot 
piano wire leader completes the outfit. The line is 
passed through the staples in the top of the sinker 
and fastened in the clip, 30 feet from the' spoon. When 
the salmon strikes, he disengages the line from the 
clip, the sinker slides down to the leader and you can 
handle your fish with perfect freedom. 
Our camp being located just under the 300-foot 
bluff of Point Defiance, we are on the ground, so 
need lose no valuable; time. At 3:30 A. M. my fishing 
partner Jack rouses me with the cheering assurance 
that "The tide is running in and the Siwashes are 
coming in their canoes." A cup of strong coffee and a 
sandwich, and we are off to the fishing grounds. I 
handle the oars for the first hour, and Jack seats him- 
self with his back to me and pays out line until the 100- 
foot mark is reached, being designated by a red silk 
thread wound around the line at that point. 
Jack's position in the boat is the only one to as- 
sume, as the tyee strikes like an electric shock, no 
nibble nor uncertain twitching, but a mad rush in the 
case of a large fish of 15 pounds and upwards, or a 
succession of short vicious rushes, in case the fish is 
under that weight. The experienced tyee fisherman 
can always tell by this initial rush whether the fish is 
a large one or not. 
Suddenly the reel hums and Jack says, "I've got him 
fast, about 10 pounds I should stay, stop rowing." 
First the fish sounds, the water being some 3,000 
feet deep, no anxiety is felt on that account. Then 
comes a period of the sulks, during whicli there is 
"nothing doing," it being impossible to gain an inch 
of line, but gradually Jack works him to the surface 
and we see his black back. The tyee is slowly shak- 
ing his head from side to side like an angry dog; just 
here he sees the boat for the first time. Whirr! Pop! 
ver}' much like the sound of a rocket, a disgusted fish- 
erman on the stern seat looking at his dangling spoon, 
and the usual comforting, "You checked him too hard; 
don't you know he had just begun to fight," from the 
oarsman. 
Before Jack's hour is ended he strikes another; this 
one he handles as if it had a tissue paper mouth, and 
the result is that after 17 minutes of careful work an 
8-pound tyee is gaffed by me, and we change seats. 
My turn nets me one 13-pound fish, which fights like 
a fiend for 15 minutes and. suddenly gives up. When 
landed the cause is apparent; he is surrounded bj^- a 
ravenous school of dogfish, which have literally bit- 
ten his back fin off as neatly as if cut by a knife. 
By this time we are getting hungry, and the tide is 
beginning to slack, so we go back to the tent where 
we eat, smoke, and sleep, until 4 P. M., when the In- 
dian,s^once more appear on the scene, each buck hav- 
ing his squaw to do most of the paddling, as well as 
acting as ballast. As the average squaw weighs any- 
where from 195 to 500 pounds, they certainly fill the 
bill in this last respect. They are also the ugliest speci- 
mens of the gentler sex that could be imagined. 
Now is the real time to fish for tyee. from 4 to 
8:30 P. M., with a rising tide, which should flood about 
9 at night. We have fair success during the afternoon, 
until 6:30, when the fish begin to bite as if they meant 
it. No sooner is one landed, or, more often, lost, 
than another is hooked. 
Just as the last streak of the sun is visible, I strike 
what feels like a water-soaked log. The line runs out 
to the 300-foot mark on the first rush, then follow a 
series of short, determined runs, until 500 feet are 
gone. At last his strength jaelds to the strain, and I 
slowly work him to the surface. Here he sees the 
boat, I give him free rein, and once more 300 feet 
separates us. From now on the trouble really begins, 
and it is fully 20 minutes later before I see that swirl 
near the boat that indicates he is once more on the 
surface. Now is the critical moment, his rushes have 
worn the hook loose in his mouth, and Jack is shak- 
ing with excitement as he slips the gaff under his 
broad side. The fish is so worn out that he lies on 
his side almost without motion. Jack gives one vig- 
orous twitch, and the 22-pound tyee is our meat. 
During the afternoon we have caught several "sil- 
ver" salmon. They differ material^ from the tyee 
in many respects. They have a straight back, no black 
spots on either back or tail, and are totally different in 
fighting qualities. The tyee fights deep and never 
jumps unless foul-hooked; the "silver" is S feet in 
the air the minute he strikes, and continues to jump 
and twist until he is lifted into the boat perfectly 
helpless, owing to 4 feet of wire and 20 feet of line 
being wrapped around his gills. We are careful to 
have no reporter present to record our remarks on 
such an occasion, as no one would be benefitted spirit- 
ually by them. 
There is another salmon, of which I have only 
caught one specimen. It is called the "jack" salmon, 
and is identical with the tyee except the tail, which 
is far shorter in proportion to the length of the fish. 
The flesh is much harder, and to say that a "jack" can 
fight but mildly expresses it. My 12-pound fish- towed 
me two miles before I even saw him, I being under 
the impression that I was fast to a 4S-pound tyee. 
This reminds me of an experience of the veteran 
Howe, which was witnessed by Jack and me late one 
September afternoon. Old Howe always fishes alone, 
using a holder for his rod and a heavy drag on his 
reel to keep the line from running out. When a sal- 
mon strikes, the whirr can be heard by all the boats 
within half a mile, as he uses a rachct drag like a 
policeman's rattle. 
I was fishing with- Jack one evening when we heard 
Howe's reel talk in no uncertain tones. "He has an- 
other," said Jack, "let's watch him land it." 
"How big is he, Howe?" said I; "Oh! about 10 
pounds,"" said the old man. Here the reel began to 
whiz, and I could see Howe's eyes beginning to pop 
out. 
"That's no lo-oound fish, Howe," I shouted. "I 
should say he weighed 50," said the old man in a 
strained voice; "he has 500 feet out and is going yet." 
Finally he checked the fish, and sitting in the bow 
began to work him slowly to the surface, we then be- 
ing only 50 yards distant. 
Suddenly, 15 feet from the bow of Howe's boat, there 
appeared an enormous mastiff-like head as large as a 
ten-gallon keg. and an immense fox seal, sometimes 
called sea lion, shook the water off his whiskers and 
gave vent to a series of roars, which, to say the least, 
were not assuring. 
Slowly that ancient fisherman drew forth his clasp 
knife and cut the line, and the seal promptly disap- 
pearing with a $1.50 silver spoon fast in his jaw. He 
had swallowed the original salmon in one gulp, and 
would have made short work of the boat if Howe had 
attempted to land him. 
I would advise anybody coming here to fish to make 
arrangements to come in August or September,_ as 
the salmon are more plentiful and the weather perfect, 
Such a trip as I have endeavored to describe will 
never be forgotten by anyone accustomed to the small 
fish of the average eastern waters. 
P. V. Caesar. 
Tacoma, Washington, 
Salmon Culture in America. 
Cape Vincent, N. Y., Feb. 28. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: After reading the very sensible contribution of 
"An Old Angler" in a recent number of Forest and 
Stream, I decided to send you a copy of a personal 
letter that I wrote Mr. Marston in regard to the same 
article to which "An Old Angler" refers. I am led to 
do this because, while the remarks of "An Old Ang- 
ler" apply very forcibly to the propagation of Atlantic 
salmon, the Pacific salmon side of the question is en- 
tirely left out. 
Allow mc to add that I am very sure that Mr. Mars- 
ton will have.no objection to my sending you this copy 
of my letter to him. Livingston Stone. 
My Dear Mr.''Marsion: 
No very extended effort has been made in the United 
States to stdck rivers with salmon, in which, to use 
the language of your letter, "it has become practical- 
ly or actuall3f extinct." This has been for the simple 
reason that the condition of such rivers, by reason of 
mills, factories and the like, has made it impossible 
for the salmon to breed in them, or even to ascend to 
their breedhig grounds. Stocking such rivers would 
be obviously a wasted eft'ort. 
There are salmon hatcheries in the United States, 
both on the Atlantic coast rivers and on the Pacific 
coast rivers, but the salmon of the Atlantic rivers had 
become so diminished when the era of artificial propa- 
gation began 'that the hatching of Atlantic salmon has 
never reached very extended dimensions. Efforts have 
been made to stock the Merrimac, the Connecticut, the 
Hudson, the Delaware and the Susquehanna with these 
salmon, but owing to the conditions above mentioned, 
these efforts Jiave not been successful and have been 
practically abandoned. 
On the other hand, the hatching of the Pacific sal- 
mon has been conducted on a very large scale, though 
with the object mainly of keeping up the supply of the 
natural salmon rivers on which the hatcheries are lo- 
cated, it being impracticable to try on this coast the 
exper,iment of stocking rivers in which the salmon 
have Taecome extinct, because there are no salmon riv- 
ers here in which the salmon have been exterminated. 
In regard to the results of this work, it can be safely 
said that the fishermen, the cannerymen, the fish com- 
missioners and the enlightened public are unanimous in 
the belief that the accruing benefits have been enor- 
mous. * 
To begin with the Sacramento, the southernriiost sal- 
mon river on the Pacific Coast, allow me to inclose an 
extract from the U. S. census on the subject, which, 
as you will see, credits the McCloud River Hatchery 
alone (Baird Station, U. S. Fish Commission), with 
benefitting the community to the extent of $310,000 in 
three years. Let me add here that when the writer 
started this hatchery in 1872, there were but four can- 
neries on the Sacramento, and the salmon were rapid- 
ly diminishing in the river. A few years after the 
hatchery was established, there were more salmon than 
ever in the river, and the number of canneries was 
greatl}^ increased. 
Going further north to the Rogue River, Oregon, we 
find that Mr. George Hume, operating a large cannery 
near the mouth of the river, has been enabled by the 
help of a private hatchery to keep up the supply of 
salmon, notwithstanding the enormous depletion of the 
river made every year by his cannery. 
Coming to the Columbia River, further up the coast, 
we find that the hatcheries have kept up the supply of 
salmon, notwithstanding an annual draft on that river 
by the canneries that in a brief time would exterminate 
the salmon in the finest salmon river in the world. 
When the writer first Avent to this river in 1877 to 
establish the original hatchery of the Columbia (now 
the Clackamas Station of the U. S. Fish Commission) 
there were twelve hundred miles of drift nets in the 
lower Columbia alone, for furnishing the canneries 
with salmon. Since then the nets have multiplied, and 
there are, added to' these, the destructive wheels and 
other murderous devices for exhausting the river of 
salmon. Nevertheless, the supply neither fails nor 
diminishes. No reasonable person could believe for a 
moment that this enormous draft on the salmon supply 
could be maintained every year unless the hatcheries 
turned in their millions of young fish also every year, 
to offset this prodigious drain on the "river. 
Everyone has heard of the wonderful salmon fish- 
eries of Alaska, of which the Karluk fishery of Kadiak 
Island is the most famous. Here the writer saw 153,- 
000 full-grown salmon caught in one day in July, 1888. 
That one day's catch filled, in round numbers,' a mil- 
lion cans. There is a hatchery here, but it cannot be 
quoted yet as evidence of the benefits of artificial 
propagation because it has not been in operation long 
enough, but it is a significant fact that the cannerymen 
who are ranked among the shrewdest business men 
of the country, have expended on the hatchery £ hun- 
dred thousand dollars of their private funds. Although 
this is hy iiQ means proof posjtiv? of the benefits of § 
.1 
