Nov. 22, 1902.]' 
mid ^iv^r ^sJ(ing. 
Fish Migration vs. Fish. Propaga- 
tion. 
In recent articles upon migratory fish the writer ad- 
verted to the unquestioned fact that the finny voyagers 
returned, not only to their native stream, but to the very 
spot of their emergence from the parental ova. He 
moreover contended that the migrants of a particular 
stream had a fixed marine abode within the limits 
whereof they maintained a distinct and separate existence. 
In further support of the latter contention may be ad- 
duced the fact that migratqrj' birds appear to have a 
localized winter habitat, and that the distribution of a 
species with relation thereto may be as wide as that 
mcident to its breeding season. The associated depar- 
ture and return of swallows, for instance, may be ac- 
cepted as evidence that they keep together in southern 
climes, restricting themselves to a certain area, just as 
they do elsewhere. The migration of birds and fishes 
are so similar in operation that an identity of habit in this 
particular may be predicated of each great division of the 
animal kingdom: thus we know that the young of birds 
set off alone upon journej's of wondrous magnitude, 
being probably, as with fish, guided by an effective per- 
ception of their distant bourn. The voyages of both the 
finny and the feathered pilgrims are accomplished in 
varying degrees of obscurity and darkness, for the aerial 
traveler holds, often by preference, his certain course 
beneath the night's mysterious pall. 
It would thus appear that the salmon fledgling, like the 
young bird, undertakes its initial voyage with a certain 
inherited perception of its proper course, but whether 
this perception exists as an undivided whole, or whetlier 
it is evoked, at different stages of the journey, as sepa- 
rate links of a continuous chain, is a matter for specula- 
tion. Not improbably, upon the fish's emergence from 
its native stream contact with salt water may stir into 
activity the appropriate instinct, just as a mosquito, de- 
spite the fact that it, together with generations of an- 
cestors, may have been innocent of blood and unop- 
pressed with a desire therefor, may develop, with a con- 
sciousness of its existence and direction, an uncontroll- 
able attraction thereto. If, under the circumstances 
alluded to, the ancestors of the descending fish fry are 
"to the manner born," if they are the product of ova 
deposited by parents that are natives of that particular 
stream, then they may be assumed to possess the neces- 
sary equipment for their marine voj^age. If, on the con- 
trary, they are the product of an artificial hatching of 
the ova of alien fish brought from another and distant 
stream, then upon their encounter with the great ocean 
there may be awakened in the tiny wayfarers either a 
chain of delusive instincts or none at all. In any event, 
the particular perceptions incident to the locality are not 
evoked, for they are not possessed; thus, in every sense, 
the little wanderers are "all at sea." 
The thraldom of an inherited instinct of direction 
would go far toward explaining the failure of every 
attempt to elsewhere establish the quinnat or king 
salmon of the Pacific. Probably over a hundred different 
tributaries, great and small, of the Atlantic, have been 
abortively stocked with the fry of this magnificent fish, 
and equally with our own country has the result been 
disappointing in Germany, France, Austria, Great 
Britain, and in the Southern Hemisphere. The Pacific 
salmon in habit, in strength, and capacity, is so nearly 
identified with its Atlantic, congener that each should 
readily thrive in the waters of the other. Wliat aft'ords 
sustenance to tlie one doubtless does so to tlie other: 
but the fry of the native salmon, upon breasting the 
ocean's brine, is probably _ guided by an inherited per- 
ception of distant feeding grounds, whereas the forlorn 
progeny of a fish foreign to the tributary that is de- 
scended, possessing an unserviceable stock of inherited 
instincts, may be doomed to destruction. This may be 
illustrated by the salmon of the Yukon River, which 
great stream empties into the Behring Sea. The young 
fish probably attain the river's mouth in the fall, but the. 
icy waters of the inclosed sea that thereupon confront 
them aft'ord no fitting abode or nourishment. Beyond 
that sea's inclosing barrier — ^the chain of the Aleutian 
Islands — are the waters of the Pacific Ocean, enriched 
with countless myriads of organisms, borne northward 
by the Kuro Siwo or Japan current, the Gulf Stream of 
the Pacific. Upon the extraordinary richness and abun- 
dance of these lower forms of marine Jife is based that 
of the larger creatures. Nowhere else in the world 
exist such teeming multitudes of cod. salmon, herring 
and other fish, unsurpassed also are they in size and 
condition. To this marine Canaan, this abode of plenty, 
do the migrating fry, in all likelihood, instinctively bend 
their way. Seven hundred miles distant from the "river's 
mouth are the passes of the Aleutian Islands, and prob- 
ably through one particular gateway, and over one in- 
variable pathway do the trustful little pilgrims attain the 
abiding place of their elders. Not unlikely the Atlantic 
salmon possess an inherited cognizance of like oceanic 
feeding grounds that may be hundreds of miles distant 
from their native streams; but which would manifestly 
be unattainable save by fish inheriting an associated in- 
' stinct of direction. 
The successful introduction of the Atlantic shad and 
striped bass in Pacific waters may be assmned to afford 
evidence that either such instinct of translation does not 
'exist, or that, given facilities of ample subsistence, its 
possessor may readily conform to entirely novel sur- 
roundings. Such conclusion, however, would seem not 
to be in full accord with some peculiarities in the be- 
havior of the transplanted fish. 
The shad, a migratory fish in the Atlantic, has, as a 
Pacific exile, become substantially the reverse. It clings 
to the coast, and every day in the year is present in San 
Francisco Bay. Moreover, it seems bent upon exploring 
the coast, and is now diffused along its margin 1.300 
miles, from the waters of Southern California to those 
of Alaska; and this diffusion was accomplished witliin 
a period of less than twenty years. It is not the habit 
of the Atlantic shad to so disperse the fish of one section 
?ippare;itly abiding therein. The inenha4en. like the 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
shad, is a member of the herring family, and a Maine 
fish is distinct from a Southern fish, and each from a 
fish of the intervenmg section. Again, the herring 
family are comparatively feeble swimmers, and therefore 
are presumably unadapted to the roving life of the mack- 
erel, bluefish, etc. What then, it may be asked, has in- 
duced an apparent change of habit? Why have the ex- 
patriated fish become so erratic, so unfixed in their new 
abode? 
For thousands, possibly for tens of thousands, of years 
each successive generation of their ancestors have 
traversed the same routes between fixed and familiar 
points. If their descendants in alien waters retain a 
glimmering consciousness of ancestral paths 'and abid- 
ing places, they would naturally cling, as they do. to the 
coast, for to go seaward would be merely "dragging 
a lengthening chain." So, too. it may be reasonably 
assumed that their wandering along the coast, as 
though seeking an eastern passage, is also an operation 
of the ancestral instinct, a species of congenital nos- 
talgia. 
The persistence of a migratory instinct that has ceased 
to be of service is shown in the Scandinavian lemming, 
that once in eight or ten years betakes itself in a straight 
line for the sea, swimming lakes, rivers, climbing 
mountains, and on reaching the coast, swims outward 
until whelmed beneath the salty wave. Scandinavia, 
geologically speaking, is of recent elevation, and it is in- 
ferred that the ancestral swarms set out for fertile 
meadows now covered by the restless sea. It is certain, 
however, that a migratory instinct survives that is of no 
apparent advantage to the species, and so is it also with 
the erratic migrations of squirrels, rats, field mice and 
other rodents; seemingly undertaken without motive 
and accomplished often without beneficial result. Thus 
the altered habit of the Pacific shad may persist in- 
definitely, for it is probably the operation of a rooted 
instinct seeking its wonted accommodation, and in con- 
clusion it may be said that, however skeptical fishcul- 
turists may be as to the existence, in anadromous fish, 
of an instinct of special direction, the presumptive evi- 
dence is sufficient to warrant a restriction of propagative 
effort to spawn that is native to the stream that is sought 
to be stocked. A. H. Gouraud. 
On Lake Champlain, 
A WALK to Flat Rock, some three miles south and 
well inland, for a view of the eastern Adirondacks had 
been planned, bat Sunday restfulness and a misunder- 
standing of time and place of rendezvous resulted in my 
return to the house from the post office onlj^ to see two 
of the girls rowing far out on the lake, Baker in the so- 
called olfice writing his diary, and the rest of our group 
nowhere to be seen. What to do? Some one asked me 
if I were going a-fishing. Even while answering, "Not 
on Sunday." the opposite determination flashed mto my 
mind, and in a very few minutes I was on my way down 
the clift" to the boat house on the beach, rod and landing 
net under my coat, reel, line and trolling spoon in pocket 
and just a zephyr of guiltiness making a ripple of unrest 
to pass over the surface of an otherwise peaceful soul. 
Guiltiness in deserting the others of the party who might 
feel reproachful at my neglect and unrest in anticipation 
of fisherman's luck and the reputation among pious 
friends as a Sabbath breaker. One of the lig'ht St. 
Lawrence skiffs was lying on the beach at the water's 
edge, a can of worms was ready in the boat house, and 
once I was aboard and rowing up the coast, nothing 
but happiness was possible.. Beside me the waves were 
plashing on the sand at the foot of the clifl:', while out 
on the great inland sea whitecaps were dancing merrily 
and far to the east the Green Mountains lay, watched 
over by great Mount Mansfield and the Crouching Lion. 
Beneath me the hard sandy bottom, shelving gradually 
out into deeper water, was easily visible, with Its wave- 
I'ke corrugations. 
A fair wind and an easy row brought me to the fish- 
ing grounds in twenty minutes, and letting my oars rest 
in the water, I jointed the light steel rod. rigged line 
and trolling spoon, put a generous gang of worms on 
the hook and threw the line over the stern, when the 
landing net had been set up. Then taking up the oars, 
I pulled leisurely along, with the butt of the rod on the . 
bottom of the boat before me, its tip out over the stern. 
Letting out a little line, the spoon began to turn -and 
pull. The friction of the reel's click allowed the line to 
be paid out until about 100 feet were gone, when by 
putting on the drag, the reel was held front turning until 
a strike might come. 
The fishing grounds are about a mile above the village 
of Port Kent, in a bight formed by a westward trend of 
the shore, which makes out a half mile or so toward the 
Vermont side.. Into this bight empty the two mouths of 
the Au Sable River, some distance beyond the fishing 
grounds. A pulp mill on the river just above the famous 
Au Sable Chasm has polluted the water of that stream so 
that there is not a fish in it. On the beach at the most 
protected part of the bight is the camp building of the 
Mountaineer Fishing Club, of Keeseville. a village of 
some size fotir miles back in the mountains. This club 
house is used as an outing rendezvous by the families of 
ntembers, but now it was closed. Painted a yellowish 
brown, it is the principal landmark for finding the place 
to troll. Directly before it, and about 350 to 400 yards 
from shore, grow a patch of pickerel weeds in eight to 
ten feet of water, and not more than half an acre in 
extent. Their waving lengths are easily seen rising to a 
foot or so beneath the surface, except when the lake is 
rough. Here and there in a flat calm, the tip of a weed is 
seen upon the surface. 
Among these plants lurk good-sized pickerel and pike 
at all times of day and in all weathers. The plants are 
not so densely placed as to foul the hook often, and it is 
only necessary to troll properly over them, back and 
forth, to find good sport. On the various occasions 
when I have fished here I have encountered calms and 
winds, light and strong, and from all points of the com- 
pass, but each time have made satisfactory catches. 
To-day, by the time I was in readiness for work, the 
sun was bright, but a strong wind was blowing from the 
south-southwest, the waves were running high; and 
whitecaps were all about. The course over the weeds 
is parallel with the shore Vim> ^n4 too^ ^ne before ^nd 
411 
against the wind. Going free, the light craft was blown 
a ong so rapidly that it was necessary to back water 
gently in order to preserve proper trolling speed; but 
r.gainst the wind it was a long pull and a strong pull. 
Four or five times I passed to and fro, keeping a look- 
out for weeds, but without seeing any, and of course 
getting no strike. At last I struck the spot, and found 
cross-bearings on shore to the southwest, which would 
help me to locate it on succeeding trips, and just then 
the reel began to sing, and life was real. This time a 
half-pound yellow perch was the victim, and was lifted 
aboard with the line without much ceremony. On the 
next passage across the weedy spot I had a strike which 
made the reel screech long and loud. Dropping the 
oars, which were held by pin oarlocks, I grabbed the 
rod and checked the rush of the game only long enough 
to feel its power and weight, when the line suddenly 
slacked, and it was gone — probably with a good-sized 
hole in the side of its mouth to let pass with each 
breath water before it had paid its toll of oxygen. This 
was on the windward trip, and before I could or did reel 
III, the boat was blown back toward the bait so quickly 
that the latter had sunk to the bottom and caught in 
the weeds. By the titne the hook was clear and clean 
again, I was far out of my course toward the south 
branch of the river. Hereafter I was contented to fish 
but one way across the grounds— down the wind. Going 
to windward, I would reel in and keep the bait aboard, 
and struggle agamst wind and wave back to the starting 
place. 
The next time across I hooked the mate of the perch, 
already caught. I said things to him, as did Hiawatha 
to Nahma, and called on the king of fishes, daring him 
to strike. 
Again I hooked a pickerel of about two pounds in 
weight, and again I lost. This time I had brought him 
alongside and saw him glare wickedly at me. as only 
pickerel can, when all of a sudden a mighty shake of his 
head wrenched the hook from his mouth and actually 
threw it into the boat beside me. "Take your che-ating 
old worms and be hanged to you," he probably said, as 
he disappeared. 
But here was encouragement, and though I had a 
lurking suspicion of the approach of dinner time, I 
stoutly refused to look at the watch in my coat under 
the bow seat, and resolved to fish that patch until 
something was 'flopping in the bottom of the boat that 
might be heard without an ear against the gunwale. 
On the second trip against the weeds after that I was 
wondering if I could light a pipe in all that wind, when 
Z-z-z-z-z-z! screamed the reel. I picked up the rod, 
pressed thumb on reel and attempted to reel in. Whew! 
how he does pull! He is well hooked! Oh, the joy of 
it! What of patients, aflfairs, business now? Who shall 
win this struggle? There he goes— far out of the water 
he jumps, his sides gleaming and the drops falling all 
about him as he shakes himself through his plunge into 
the air. This dash is unavailing — the hook holds, and 
now that I have seen his thirty long inches. I know 
there is a long fight ahead if the' light tackle is to hold. 
Here he comes rushing toward the boat, but not a slack 
iitch of line does he-get, for the boat is drifting away from 
him, and the reel' is a quadruple multiplier. After this 
he sulks and allows himself to be slowly and laboriouslv 
reeled in, until he gets sight of the boat, and the strange 
monster in it, both of which are surely connected with 
that strange thing sticking in his mouth and that mys- 
terious and maddening tugging which for the first time 
in his life prevents him from gliding as free as light 
through the water. Then off he darts far away toward 
the more friendly Vermont shore. Nothing could stop 
him, save such a bolt rope and tackle as the pot-fisher- 
men hereabouts use: certainly not this eight-ounce rod 
and thread-like line. But at last he stops and again 
allows himself to be reeled in until near at hand, when 
with another great lunge, he shoots directly under the 
boat, and heavens! the tip with him. Just in time I 
pass the rod around the end of the boat, "but scarcely is 
it fafe before he darts back to the other side again. My 
heart stands still — he'll break that rod yet. Three times 
he rushed arcoss the keel, and each time I managed to 
save my tackle. After this.- one long run played him out. 
He floated on his side as I reeled him in. and lay quietly 
\yhile I passed the rod back, grasped the line above the 
tip and shoved the landing net under and in front of 
him and quickly lifted him aboard with certainly a third 
of his length projecting from otit the net's mouth. Once 
aboard and dispatched by a blow on the head, I had 
scarcely time to admire his size, his beauty and his 
glance, wicked even in death, before the ' sound of 
breakers close at hand brought me to the realization that 
I had drifted away up the lake and close inshore. Quick' 
moves were necessary in getting the oars shipped— I 
had taken them both into the boat during the lulls in 
the fight— arid getting under way for home! 
The wind and the waves made the row home a long, 
hard pull, and there was no opportunity to light my pipe! 
but it was sweet to look at that big beautv "there in the 
shade of the little deck at the stern. ' W. S. T • 
Trout Ticklingf. 
^ Washington, D. C. Nov. i4.~Bditor Forest and 
stream: Mr. Chambers' interesting notes are always 
enjoyable, but his article about tickling trout in the paper 
of Nov. 15 calls to mind an experience of one of the 
employees of the U. S. Fish Commission, when collecting 
eggs of the lake trout at Lake Dunmore. Vt. A number 
of adult lake trout ranging from seven to fifteen oounds 
in weight were in a partially submerged open boat in 
which they had been towed to a convenient point 'for 
stripping them. One of the emplovees quietly placed his 
hand under a large female and tickled the belly of the 
fish "The fish remained quiet for an instant, then darted 
suddenly to the other end of the boat, turned about, and 
returned to the point from which it had started where 
the man still held his hand. He then proceeded to tickle 
the trout for some little time. This showed beyond all 
question that the fish enjoyed being tickled. I do not 
see how any poacher or fisherman could ever exterminate 
enough fish by this method, however, to necessitate any 
special legislation. In fact, I should think it would be a 
pretty slov? method of qatching fish. 
