8 
ing the contorting, threshing and convoluting savage 
of the lake, like all good anglers would, taut upon the 
rein. 
Bdt the huge pick is game to thfe core, and yet he 
soon cavorts with decreasing desperation, and his move- 
ments become slow and sluggish, I see his long, slen- 
der, golden shape plowing boatward near the surface. 
He will soon be mine. One more wild, frantic linige 
for the moss bed — one more heroic dash for the deeper 
waters, one more swirl and turn, and with a sense of 
conquering security, steer him toward the boat's side, 
where Fanning crouches. He is weary and drowning! 
Yet I reel him in with unlessened caution. Suddenly 
there is a glitter beneath me; a spasmodic flurry, and a 
stubborn out pull. Frank leans over, makes a sweep 
with his naked brown arms; the yawning net is under 
him, and the next instant a seventeen-pound pickerel 
is convulsively floundering in hopelessness and despair 
among the willow tendrils at the bottom of our boat. 
That evening at the Red Squirrel's Nest my big 
pickerel furnished the main theme of conversation, and 
I listened to^ a most delightful rehash of the old muscal- 
litnge-pike-pickerel problem, probably the most vexed of 
all_ ichthyological mysteries. And there was a distin- 
guished coterie of skilled anglers and scientists there, too, 
assembled on Pat's wire-screened piazza for the posl- 
supper cigar and inevitable swap of the day's doings. 
Fanning had been compelled to bring my big pickerel 
from the ice-house and lay him out on the grass for the 
inspection of each incoming boat until all liad crilicallv- 
passed judgment upon him, and in the evening, it being 
the record catch of the year, the one theme was of course 
this .self-same fish. 
For once I proved a good listener, and by lumping tbo 
diflPusive lore of the party combined it was easy to sec 
how the pike family is such an interesting one, contain- 
ing, as it does, many of our best known and most widely 
distributed fresh water fishes. 
One rriild-voiced Sioux Falls stranger, a Captain Alex- 
ander, timidly intimated that the fish was a muscallunge, 
bat he was sat down upon by about six of the eight or 
ten authorities ( ?) present with more vehemence than 
courtesj% I thought, and yet he remained mistaken in the 
belief he had expressed. Ed Holbert, one of the beflan- 
neled guides, was sure that it was a great northern pike, 
but Judge Ogden, Dr. Owen and Pat himself knew it was 
a common pickerel. 
"I do not believe there was ever a mnscallunge or a 
great northern pike taken in these waters, eh, Pat?" and 
the Judge turned to Sheehan. 
"Yes. They say in the early days that the loggers 
speared a good many rauskies here, and if that was true, 
there certainly were great northern pike here, too; but 
there hasn't been any of either, to my knowledge, caught 
here in twenty years." 
"That convinces me." ventured the Sioux Falls man, 
"if there were muscallunge here once they are here now, 
and I believe Mr. Griswold's fish is one of them — maybe 
the last remnant of a noble race," 
"No, Captain, I think you are wrong," interjected the 
Jtidge. "I take little stock in these old lumbermen 
•legends of Pafs, and yet I will confess that the identity 
of these fishes is something that I have never had satis- 
factorily demonstrated to me, and the controversy about 
them is as varied, indefinite and endless as the orthogra- 
phy of the name muscallunge. And, I might add, that I 
believe the points of demarcation between the muskie and 
the great northern pike are so similar that it seems 
almost useless to try to classify them." 
"Well, so far as I am concerned," continued the Cap- 
tain, persistently, "I think that the so-called muscallunge 
is nothing but a pike, as described by our patron saint, 
Izaak Walton — ^the great northern pike. When he is 
small he is the pike, when he grows larger and his habitat 
it> more given to deep cold water, with a continuity of 
rocks and adjacent moss beds, his color and his markings 
undergo a considerable change, and his great strength 
snd agility become more in evidence, and then it is that 
many believe it another fish. I say that the color should 
never be used as an infallible guide to his genus or 
species. The discoloration of certain waters make these 
apparent incongruous distinctions. Take the Caucasian 
and transplant him to equatorial Africa and his skin will 
very rapidly become dark. Now, in the Wisconsin lakes 
the muscallunge is a dark green in general color, and the 
larger specimens are devoid of spots and their marldngs 
are not as brilliant as those found in this State. The 
plentiful growth of the tamarack over there is said to be 
the cause of this difference. The lin formation, the pec- 
toral, dorsal, caudal, anal, and ventral, as well as the bone 
formation of the muscallunge, great nortliern pike and 
the pickerel are identical, and no author of reputation 
differentiates in these particulars. Why, what does David 
Starr Jordan, Ph.D., and Barton Warren Evermann, 
Ph.D., say in their late and popular work, 'American 
Food and Game Fishes ?' They say of the great northern 
pike, Esox inimaculatus, 'this muscallunge is known only 
from Eagle Lake in Northern. Wisconsin and Minnesota. 
From the Great Lakes muscallunge it differs in having 
the body entirely unspotted, or with vague, dark cross 
shades. The tail is a little more slender and the fins a lit- 
tle higher. This form has not been studied critically, and 
its relations to E. masquinongy and E. ohiensis have not 
been clearly made out." Now, with me, that settles it; 
the pike and the muscallunge are one and the same fish." 
•"As you are aware," followed up the Judge, "a majority 
of our most learned authorities say that the pickerel has 
no scales on the gill cover or cheek, while the great 
northern pike has scales on the lower cheek and gill 
cover, while the muscallunge has scales on both." 
"Yes; I know that, but these slight differences, I think, 
are sufficient to make us doubting Thomases. These 
scales may be the result of old age, or other causes of 
nature with which we are unfamiliar and do not compre- 
hend; but I do not believe these incongruities ample to 
create' a difference in the fishes, and I am sorry conviction 
compels me to attempt to dispel pet illusions, romances 
and ideals which have for decades been so dear to the 
muscallunge angler." 
"Muscallunge, pike or pickerel," joined Dr. Owen, 
"Sandy's glory is undimmed. It gave him a royal battle, 
and, I wot you, properly placed upon th? table, the gastrq- 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
noine doesn't live but who would acknowledge that it 
would be as delicious under any other title. We all know 
that the pike family contains some of the best known 
fishes, among which are some of the largest and most 
formidable inhabitants of our inland waters. The so- 
called great northern pike and the muscallunge are not 
heaten in size by any of the fishes I know, excepting the 
giant catfish of our own Missouri and Elkhorn rivers. 
Some of the salmon may bo larger, but I am not familiar 
v.'ith (hem if they are. There are also several small repre- 
sentatives of the family; as, for instance, the little banded 
fellow of the Platte and Rawhide. That the pike-pickerel 
is an old-timer is demonstrated by the fact that their re- 
main.s have been found in r|uaternary deposits and in 
fossilized form of the diluvian marl. And if you examine 
their teeth it will surelv inculcate a healthy respect for 
them." 
"You bet it will," interpolated guide Fanning from his 
scat on the porch floor, "and if a fish like that Mr. Gris- 
wold brought in to-day should get a man's finger in his 
mouth he'd snap it off as cleanly as it could be done 
with a hatchet." 
"Yes, indeed, a man must be careful in unhooking one 
of these fellows," added the Judge; "the roof of the 
mouth contains a middle row and two side rows of teeth, 
while the tongue and pharynx are veritable buzz saws, 
and even the gill arches bristle with little lances on slide- 
like plates." 
"Yes," from rower Holbert, "and along the lower jaw 
there is a row of teeth that would make good .shoe- 
makers' awls, and you want to be careful in handling one 
even a fifth the size of Mr, Griswold's, for their fancy for 
nabbing and holding on is about the same as a snappin' 
torkle's." 
"Well," and the Judge rolled a cigarette, "it is a fact 
that the whole question is a confusing one, for we all 
know that in many localities the pike is a pickerel, and 
in others the pickerel is a pike. The name pickerel is 
common all through Nebraska, notwithstanding the fish 
in question is truly the pike. Up here in Minnesota the 
misnomer is not so common. The origin of the name — 
w^ll, I don't know where that came from — " 
"From the old day lumberman's pike," interrupted Pat. 
"Probably," patronizingly from the Judge, "but in the 
old country the same fish has many different names; in 
England they call it the jack and luce, while to the 
French anglers it is the brochct ; to the Germans the 
hecht, and to the dagos, lucceo. The fish is found in all 
the Polar regions of the world, and here, in this coun- 
try, it prevails from the scant waters of Kansas to the 
frozen seas. Fred Turner tells me that it is common in 
the Klondike rivers, especially the Yukon, where it is 
called by the natives the chuck-work." 
It was nearly midnight when the assemblage dispersed, 
and I must confess that out of all the mass of stuff I 
listened to I was unable to determine just what my big 
fish was — a pickerel, pike or muscallunge, and the nip of 
Yellowstone that the Judge and I indulged in when we 
reached our suite was a long one and a deep one I can 
assure you. 
But before closing I wish to remark that, next to the 
bass, the pickerel is Lake Washington's crowning glory, 
and many enormous specimens are taken here every sum- 
mer — -the record breaker being a 28-pounder. Pickerel 
are caught all through the summer and were, formerly, 
all through the winter, but the new law prescribes open 
and close seasons, the same as for all other game fishes. 
Ice fishing and spearing was at one time the chief pur- 
suit of the natives roundabout the lake. The Washing- 
ton pickerel is a carnivorous beast, and destroys any and 
all animal life that comes within reach of its shark-like 
jaws. Pat says he has seen them time and time again pull 
a wild duck under the water, and young duck and other 
aquatic birds are a favorite diet of theirs. Up here it is 
not gregarious, and pairs only during the breeding season. 
They hunt like sharks, concealing themselves suddenly 
among the lily pads, tules and mosses, and shooting out 
and upon their victims with unvarying precision. They 
spawn in the late winter and early spring, their favorite 
places being the overflowed meadowlands, which were ex- 
tensive here this year, and it was on these, too. Fanning, 
Sheehan and Holbert that the bass largely did their 
spawning. The period of incubation here is about 
sixteen days, and the female is the larger of the 
two fish. Pat says that a yearling pickerel is more fit 
for the table than at any other time. He is about a foot in 
length at this age, and of a certain . delicate flavor that 
leaves hiin^ when he grows a few months older. He 
is a great fighter here, the equal of the black bass, and 
bites voraciously at anything and at almost any time. 
Sandy Gkiswold. 
Canoe and Camp Life Along the 
Delaware River. 
XIV.— Realisms. — Fishing and Scenery at the Gap. 
"Sportsmanship tias more than its share of the comic opera of 
life, funny and .sad, for there is no comic opera so funny that it 
is free from patlios. And of all the comic opera of sportsman- 
ship, none is more comical than the claim to sportsmanship by 
virtue of contemplation, or how to be a sportsman without any 
of the qualities of true sportsmanship. How does it so happen? 
Because the ego gets into the clouds, returns, and the egotist 
imagines that his dreams were true."— Forest and Stroara Editorial, 
April 18, 1903. 
The artist who sees nature and draws from it an impression 
steeped in the dyes and impregnated by the atmosphere of his 
own restlessness or serenity, his own sadness or gaiety of mind, 
may produce a picture so metamorphosed by his personality of 
fancy, that it may bear as little relation to truth as a dream to 
life. But the force of its appeal to other men's appreciation is 
not thereby necessarily lessened, for they, too, have dreamed 
dreams. Dreams are as integral a part of our common life, and 
as' universal, I almost, as sleep. -^Article on Landscape, Edinburgh, 
Review, January, 1901. 
Sport is defined as pastime — diversion. He who makes 
fishing or hunting a business, and sells his fish or game, 
i=: not a sportsman. He who does not observe and derive 
pleasure from his outdoor environment is a mere fisher or 
hunter, like one who would spear the sea bass in their 
pool at the aquarium, or shoot a tiger in a circus-wagon 
cage. 
In other words, it is a truism that the truest sportsman, 
wfiile loving to jSsh or hunt, <iiio ^ ^4 f^ls the beauty 
[JTJLY 4, 1903. 
of water, sky, clouds, foliage, lights, shadows, hills, and 
perspectives, and realizes more and more that they all, 
separately and in relation, have messages of beauty for 
him. But before he ventures to write of them (an auda- 
cious step at best), he should look long at them, and learn 
to really see and love them with a love that must clasp so 
hard that it will crush what is false and hollow. Never, 
no matter how long and ardently or with wliat knowledge 
he may study them, can he hope to tell of them in terms 
that will satisfy himself or the public, that will, however, 
always be grateful for careful, vivid, humble words about 
impressions of Nature. But he must show at once that 
he has beheld something. And he may be full of en- 
thusiasm. Coldness and want of passion will then not be 
signs of audacity, but of knowledge. But let him be 
merely a bungler or egotist, and instantly not only are his 
words as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal, but he 
cannot again arrest the attention of readers, except as 
they bury him and hi.s false work under a storm of ridi- 
cule. Hence, words Ii1<e those at the head of this article, 
by the veteran editor of this publication. Hence, weak 
poems about spring are a target for the shafts of profes- 
sional hiUBorists. 
Mind, this is the inevitable fate of false work. True 
work wins attention and gratitude. Even when, ruled by 
that "pathetic fallacy" of which Ruskin speaks, our great 
pcets a.scribe a living personality and passion to objects 
in Nature, readers listen gladly, for "they, too, have 
dreamed dreams." Thus, a real rhymer safely declares 
that "music hath charms * * * to softer rocks, or 
bend the knotted oak." And hear Tennyson in "Maude:" 
"The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is Jiear!' 
And the white rose weeps, '.She is late!' 
The larkspur listens, *I hear, I hear!' IV 
And the lily whispers, 'I wait!' " 
This is very beautiful, although untrue; for there is a 
spirit of truth in the lines, a parallelism with human 
moods and personalities. That is pleasing, and makes the 
falsehood welcome. But no tyro can safely use such 
tools. He will merely produce cheap rhapsody, nauseating 
fantasticism. The public has suffered long from such 
writers, and so greatly that a revulsion of feeling has 
been partially produced, and a taste for the "realism" 
which deals only with the meati and repulsive. Here are 
some entries from the diary of a "realist," made while 
actually camping along the Delaware, for possible use in a 
"realistic" article : 
"Eyes inflamed by smoke from open fire. Dislike wash- 
ing dishes — no soap, and cannot remove grease from 
them. Sent for some yesterday and boy stole the ten 
cents, not returning. Bug got in my ear while sleeping. 
Took an hour to get it removed. Then flopped down, 
mad, on sleeping mattress, which burst with my weight. 
Result, stabbed all rest of night by hard knobs in ground. 
Whippoorwills woke me before daylight. Tried to drive 
them away, and fell over a log into nettles. Wcuk coffee 
for breakfast, and mildewed bread. Fierce stranger in 
rags wanted to hire himself out as a guide. Breath full 
of stale whisky. His suspenders were twisted— one but- 
ton gone, and a wooden toggle pushed through cuts in 
his trousers used instead. He was barefooted, and had a 
dirty straw hat, with its band filthy with perspiration. 
Trousers stained with tobacco juice. He stole his break- 
fast by milking one of the lean cows that come to the 
creek below, and make it muddy as they drink," 
All of which proves that Ruskin was right in saying 
that "You can see only that for which you look, and will 
behold no more than your nature has capacity to receive." 
But it is manifest that toggles doing duty as suspender 
buttons, tumbling over logs in sleepy pettishness, and a 
laziness that prevents the presence of soap and permits 
grease on the camp dishes, are not the objects and sub- 
jects most worthy of contemplation. Proper sight of 
nature will remove the beholder from what is base to 
what is beautiful — to things which delight, ennoble and 
instruct. Indeed, her finest moments must be watched 
for; there will be times of transfiguration that are transi- 
tory, and which can only be arrested by a memory that 
itself must fade— moods only to be appreciated by vanish- 
ing instants. 
Thus "realism" is the gospel of degeneration. There 
can be no pardon for a writer who chooses mention of 
miry, foul ooze in a bog, rather than such subjects as the 
undulating intersection, grace and music of boughs and 
leaves, and vistas of trees along their own wild cathedrals. 
Let the sportsman not seek for malodors of decaying 
fish along the river shore, but rather for messages un- 
polled to him along the open sky where colors change 
with inconceivable cautiousness of delicate gradation, from 
blue at the zenith to deep green along the horizon. Let 
him ponder upon the splendors of the evening watch-fires 
set in clouds, and let him demand of his eyes and soul, 
some open knowledge of the beaut}^ in the morning rain- 
bow that pulsates in the mist of the rapids. Let him 
watch the arrested sunbeams, "guests from the far-away 
court of the sun," that contrast with the !«i-af-shadowrt 
along and through crannies of foliage in banks and 
masses, and the curvatures of rocks and hills. This is 
the true and vital realism. 
So-called realism is even more self-conscious than 
rhapsody, and with more offensive assumption of Delphic 
insight. For example, after he had partaken too gener- 
ously of what was probably a badly cooked New E!ngland 
dinner, and mu.st have been suffering from indigestion, 
Emerson was guilty of the following prize samples of 
asininity and cockchafer strut. See his Essay on Natur'; : 
"The whole code of Nature's laws may be written on 
the thumb-nail." "So poor is Nature * * * she has 
but one stuff to serve up all her dream-like variety." 
"Some sad, sharp-eyed man sees how paltry a game is 
played." (By Nature!) 
"Flov/ers so .strictly b-dong to ycuth, that we odult men 
soon come to feel that their beautiful generation con- 
cerns us not; we have had our day; now let the children 
have theirs. The flowers jilt us, and we are old bachelors 
with our ridiculous tenderness." 
"Trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their im- 
prisonment, rooted in the ground " 
And note how poetry can be poisoned and made offen- 
sive by unconscious "realism." In the much bepr-aised 
blank verse, "Thanatopsis," by Bryant, he calls the ocean 
a, "gray melanchjoly waste." It is mt gray, but blue. 
