AmL 9, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
297 
it, it was seized by a fish, the strong tug that it gave 
causing my pliable rod to bend in a short curve. 
I played my fish, and on landing it found that it was 
a good two-pounder. From that time on my father 
and I did no bait fishing at the dam, for we got all the 
trout we wanted with the sunken fly. While the trout 
in early spring will greedily accept any lure you may 
offer him, he is more fastidious later on when the 
weather and water become warmer and there is an 
abundance of insects and other food; in fact, his cap- 
rices then have become proverbial. 
All of us have, time and again, been unable to move 
a fin with any kind of a fly or even ordinary bait, but 
if we could catch a large, plump locust, and by that 
I do not mean the cicada, but the common field grass- 
hopper, and impale it on a small hook attached to a 
thin casting line and toss it out upon the pool it was 
seized wtthout any dallying. But one cannot always 
catch a locust, particularly in the woods through which 
most of the trout streams pass, and one would think 
the next best thing to do would be to select a fly that 
resembled the locust as closely as possible, but that 
does not always prove successful, no matter how lightly 
we cast it or slowly and gently we move it. 
Now and then we may present a fly which overcomes 
his fastidiousness, but he accepts it perfunctorily, and 
not with the eager rush that every angler loves to be- 
hold. One often wonders why the trout ever comes to 
the surface fly, and that it often accepts most quickly 
the one which is the most outre of all combinations, 
resembling no insect whatever in nature. 
Odd Flies 
For example, the kertoodle fly, commonly called the 
toodle bug, that is, or used to be, tied by one of the 
Rangeley guides named Witney, is simply, entomolog- 
ically speaking, a monstrosity; no one ever saw a 
moth, butterfly or any other insect that it in any way 
resembled, but what a killing lure it is for the big 
trout in September. There is something about it that 
simply fascinates those huge fellows who would dis- 
dain to even look at a smaller or less pretentious fly. 
It is true that it was most successfull when worked 
just below the surface of the water, but it generally 
had a strange attraction for the six, seven, and eight- 
pounders that lounged around at their ease in the deep 
pools and still water of the runs. In various ways have I 
at times endeavored to overcome the caprices of the 
spotted darlings, and have tried almost every fly in my 
book to no avail. One of my old guides, Steve Morse, 
used to say that "when they won't, they won't, and 
that's the end on't," but even when they are the most 
ofiish they may sometimes be outgeneralled. 
A Mouse as Trout Bait. 
On one occasion as I was fishing on a Canadian 
salmon river I reached a large pool, which, although it 
at that time contained no salmon, teemed with sea trout 
of a generous size. For some reason or other, strange 
to say, they did not seem to care for anything in the 
fly line that I presented to them. The water was 
rather low and almost as clear as crystal, and that, per- 
haps, in a great measure accounted for their reluctance 
to "come in out of the wet." I tried finally an ex- 
ceedingly large gray hackle, which on being thrown 
out to them was quickly seized. 
In angling nomenclature that fly is commonly called 
the gray mouse; no doubt it resembled a mouse, as it 
was drawn through the water, and it seemed to be 
just what they wanted. 
"Ah, ha!" exclaimed my guide, "it's a mouse they 
want; all right, we'll fix 'em." I reeled in my fish, 
which proved to be a handsome three-pounder, but on 
lifting it from the landing net my guide accidentally broke 
off the barb of the hook. It was the only fly of its 
kind I had with me, and I about made up my mind I 
should get no more of the sea trout in that pool on 
that day, at any rate. 
But my guide was evidently prepared for just such 
an emergency, for he took from his pocket the skin 
of a flying squirrel, from the belly part of which he 
cut a strip about three inches in length which he folded 
and tied to the shank of a bait hook somewhat after the 
manner in which a strip of menhaden is affixed to the 
hook- as a casting bait for the striped bass. This he 
attached to my casting line and I threw it out into the 
pool. It was a queer looking object in the water, but 
the trout evidently wanted it, for they were not at all 
"backward in coming forward," and they all seemed to 
want it at once. It is perhaps unnecessary to state 
that I secured all the sea trout then that I wanted. 
Ffogs as Bait. 
As I before stated there is no accounting for the 
caprices of trout, for they will at times take almost 
any old thing that is thrown to them for bait. On one 
of my outings at the Upper Dam on the Rangeleys I 
met a gentleman who had just come from Connecticut, 
he had never before done any trout fishing but seemed 
to be willing to learn. On the evening of his arrival 
we had a little chat, during which he showed me a good 
sized wicker hamper which he had brought along. On 
opening it he displayed to my astonishment about 200 
small sized green frogs, huddled in a big bunch of 
damp moss, that he had brought for trout bait, evi- 
dently believing that since the frogs were acceptable to 
the black bass they would prove so to the trout. I 
told him I hardly believed that: the Rangeley trout 
would care for the frogs, but he might try them. 
The incident seemed very funny to me, and I could 
not resist telling the story to the other men at the 
camp. Of course, everybody had a quiet laugh, and on 
the following morning many suggestions were given 
the stranger regarding bait, etc., for the large trout in 
those waters. He was told by one of the anglers that 
a bunch of raisins often proved an irresistible lure; 
by another he was informed that the white of a fried 
egg was an acceptable morsel, and by another the 
yellow foot of a chicken was a famous bait. 
The stranger "said nothing but sawed wood," and he 
sawed it pretty effectively, for when he came back to 
camp that night he brought with him five or six of as 
handsome trout as one would wish to see, and all of 
them were taken with the little ^een frogs for bait. 
The Pike: What to do With Him 
BY L. 0. ARMSTRONG. 
Read before the North American Fish and Game Protective 
Association. 
I HAVE a feeling of respect, amounting almost to ad- 
miration, for the maskinonge. I love the dore, or wall- 
eyed pike, or golden pickerel, on account of his beauty 
and his flavor, but to the common pike (Esox Indus) I 
confess at the outset I am a mortal enemy, and therefore 
I rnust try my utmost to do him justice. Dr. Warwick 
claims for him that he can show intelligence, affectioB 
and gratitude. This is his story of an experience with 
an English pond pike. It is a pretty story; even those 
who know it will not, I hope, object to its repetition. 
"When I lived in Durham," says the Doctor, "I was 
taking a walk one night in Lord Stamford's Park, when 
I arrived at the pond where fish destined for the table 
were temporarily kept. I noticed a splendid six-pound 
pike ; when he saw me he darted away like a flash toward 
the center of the water. In his flight he struck his head 
against an iron ring in a post. I found out later that 
he had broken his skull and wounded the optic nerve. 
The fish was evidently suffering terribly; he darted to 
the bottom and buried his head in the mud, turning with 
such rapidity that he was lost to my sight for a moment. 
Then he plunged madly hither and thither in the pond, 
and finally threw himself out of the water on to the shore. 
I examined him, and found a small portion of the brain 
coming out of the skull. I replaced the brain with care, 
and rounded the brain indenture. The fish remained 
quiet during the operation; when it was over it plunged 
into the water again. It seemed at first to be much re- 
lieved; but at the expiration of a few minutes it began 
again wildly to plunge in every direction, and finally 
threw itself out of the water again. It continued to do 
this several times in succession. I was deeply interested. 
I called the guard, and with his assistance I applied a 
bandage to the fracture, threw it back into the water 
and left it to its fate. Next morning when I appeared 
on the water's edge, the pike came to me, placing his 
head close to my feet. I found the incident extraor- 
dinary. I examined the skull and found it to be doing 
well. I walked along the shore for some time; the fish 
swam as close to me as he could to and fro, turning 
when I turned; but as he was blind on the wounded 
side, he seemed to be agitated always when his wounded 
eye was next to the shore. Next day I brought some' 
friends to see the fish; the pike swam toward me as 
usual. He gradually became so docile that he would 
come near when I whistled, and ate from my hand. With 
other people, to the contrary, he remained as shy and 
wild as ever." 
Gentlemen, what do you think of that story? If true 
it makes one feel a stronger and more human interest in 
our finny fellow-beings, but nevertheless with them the 
law of the "survival of the fittest" must work, and I 
hope that it may work a little more actively on account 
of our helpful action as an association. 
During a recent canoe trip on the Mississaga River 
in Ontario, Can., I met with a black-backed, pink-fleshed 
pike, which was gamey; he rose to the fly and broke a 
salmon-rod for me without my being conscious of any 
extraordinary clumsiness on my part. His size was not 
great enough to account for the discomfiture that I felt 
in being worsted by him; and after helping to eat him, 
his firmness and flavor made me temporarily more toler- 
ant of this water "bully and tough," but I have recovered 
and am ready to make a declaration of war against the 
pike. Wherever he is to be found I would Russianize 
his territory. 
I \vould let flourish, and would ever help along the 
colonization of our waters by that favorite of mine, the 
dore (Lueioperea americana), or pike-perch. That 
grandest of fighters and bounteous giver of sensations, 
the maskenonzay, as Mr. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 
after the Ojibway fashion, correctly spelled and called 
him in "Hiawatha," I would foster; but I would make 
war upon the vulgar pike. 
Some of my friends would have me include all the 
members of the_ pike family in the declaration of war. 
They say to me in protecting dore, bass and maskenonzay 
are you not helping to destroy the trout, ouananiche and 
salmon? To some extent, perhaps; but in them I am 
protecting game fish of such delicious flavor that I find 
my palate to have many sympathizers when it says it 
can enjoy these three fish many more times during the 
year 'than trout or salmon, which are a little rich. In 
fact, I do not know of any occasion when my great 
friend, the palate, would not rebel against my declining 
an invitation to dine on either dore, bass or maske- 
nonzay and Sauterne. 
My fishing for_ dore and maskenonzay has been done in 
Canadian lakes in the far north, where they are a table 
luxury in any month in the year. 
But now, to be practical, let me ask you the question, 
"What are we going to do about it ?" and at the same 
time give the answer from my point of view. I would 
propose then that this Association recommend to all the 
Governments that "No netting should be allowed except 
for pike, suckers, ling, catfish, whitefish and other 
coarse bottom-feeders. That all game fish should be re- 
turned to the water until September 15, 1905." All com- 
mercial fishing companies should raise every other kind 
of fish just as meat canners raise their beef or mutton, 
or buy from those who have raised them. All other fish 
than those mentioned as being permissible should be 
caught by rod, hook and line only. This would give 
more work to local fishermen and as much pay. It would 
hurt only the few shareholders in the big commercial 
fishing companies, and these should be hurt if any hurt 
is to be received. 
I have been shocked at the waste of the net-fishermen 
ni Lakes Superior, Huron, Erie and Champlain. They 
have almost destroyed the fishing in Lake Ontario. At 
Sarnia and in Lake St. Clair the catches of dore in seines 
have been enormous. Let us put an end to this kind of 
fishing. 
The Canadian conscience is being awakened about the 
fishing in the Great Lakes and in Temagami, Lake Cham- 
plain, and I think the action of this Association has had 
something to do with it. 
Incidentally, I cannot refrain from referring to spring 
shooting for iud^s. The duelc is our ally in destroying 
the pike^spawn in the spring. Let us make an offensive 
and defensive alliance with the spring duck. I have 
watched mother ducks diving for the pike-spawn, and 
have seen her fight to protect her young from the pike. 
I could not get near enough to se how she conducted 
the fight, but I saw her go down many times for the 
spawn, and saw that, in spite of many rushes of the pike, 
the parents and children of the duck family. got away 
safely. 
Resolved, that the North American Fish and Game 
Protective Association ask of all Legislatures that such 
legislation be enacted as will make it illegal for anyone 
to net trout of any kind, except namaycush or lake trout, 
bass of any kind, dore or wall-eyed pike, or maskenonzay, 
until Sept. 15, 1907, and that all legislatures in their 
publications should use the Indian name of the fish some- 
tunes called muskullunge — mascalonge— maskinonge, and 
that it should always be spelled in the Indian way as found 
in Longfellow's "Hiawatha," viz.: "Maskenonza," with 
the a hard — Maskenonzay, or according to the govern- 
mental pronunciation in Canada — maskinonge. 
Is there need of this or of some other more effective 
action? Let me tell you that there is. I met some far- 
mers last year who were about to gather together to 
ask the Government to send them some pike for sum- 
mer-fishing because they "grew fast and were easy to 
catch." These farmers lived on a lake well stocked witji 
lake trout that were, however, not easy for them to 
catch in summer. There is a largely-signed petition at 
Ottawa, Canada, sent in by the citizens Of Stony Lake, 
County of Peterboro, asking for a pike hatchery; the 
reason given being that there had been a great destruc- 
tion and reduction in the number of pike in the region, 
whereas salmon and trout had increased notably for 
some years. These are intelligent people, good farmers 
and citizens, and yet do they not remind you of the frogs 
who_ asked for a king and got the heron? Do you not 
see in them the lambs asking for wolves to come and 
crunch their tender bones? We must protect these and 
all other lambs from the common pike, that fresh water 
wolf, that shark of the inland lakes. Let this fish make 
room for a better species. He is a thief and a black- 
guard. _ Let us kill him any way we can ; let us pitch- 
fork him in the shallows and small creeks, spear him, 
shoot him, set night lines for him, net him, destroy him 
by fair means or foul ; he has no friends among the wise 
and the good. 
The Strike in Sea-Fishing. 
To strike at the right moment, and with a nice judg- 
ment, is one of the most useful arts at the command of 
the angler. It can be compared only with the gradual 
pressure on the trigger in deer-stalking. The pull-off 
that jerks the rifle is fatal; it is the gentle squeezing of 
the trigger that does the trick and drops the stag, and it 
is the accurately-timed upward stroke of rod or line 
that hooks the fish. Now, in fresh-water angling, where 
there is more often than not a tell-tale float to betray the 
movements of the hidden fish, striking is a dainty art — 
a rnere flick of the fingers or turn of the wrist. Where 
a tiny hook has to be embedded in a delicate fish in a 
few inches of water, science is evidently of greater 
moment than strength. When, on the other hand, a 
large hook has to be driven home in a pollock or conger 
feeding in a strong tideway, and perhaps a couple of 
hundred feet below the fisherman, it is clearly neces- 
sary to strike, not merely at the right moment, but also 
with considerable force. The right moment can be 
gauged only with. practice, for there is no float, as a rule, 
and the fish are almost always out of sight. As an ex- 
ception to the last-named condition, I well remember 
drift-lining for mackerel of great size off Mevagissey. 
I'he water was as clear as crystal, and we could plainly 
see the great mackerel, weighing up to 2 pounds and 2^ 
pounds, darting in every direction quite three fathoms be- 
neath us. The bait was pilchard, and we had only to 
lower the heads and then lean over and hook each fish 
as the bait disappeared in its jaws. I fancy we caught 
the best part of a hundred, and they were all given 
away on the quay. That was a red-letter day, but, as a 
matter of fact, it savored father of hooking tame carp 
in a pond, and if all sea-fishing were so simple the sport 
would have fewer admirers. 
It is when the fish are invisible that striking is dif- 
ficult. You may strike a fraction of a second too soon or 
too late, with as much result as firing a yard too much 
before or behind a driven pheasant. The fish is doubt- 
less injured, like the bird, but you are none the better 
off. Indeed, the late Matthias Dunn, of Mevagissey, 
accounted for the malformed sea-bream, which are not 
uncommon in the neighborhood of Plymouth, by the fact 
of fishermen striking impatiently when troubled with 
chads, as the bream are called in their youthful stage. 
The striking, which would not catch such small fish on 
the large pollack-hooks, tore away the upper portion of 
the jaw, he maintained, and these chad in time grew to 
be bream with a distorted face. I have, indeed, known 
v/oeful amateurs who prided themselves on foul-hooking 
really good pollack and whiting, baiting their hooks and 
then continuously striking (like the manner in which 
Scotch herring fishermen work the jigger lines) until a 
fish, prowling round the baits, would be hooked. This, 
however, is wanton pot-hunting and not fair fishing. 
The exact moment at which to strike must, as was said 
above, be learned by experience. Every fish lost in this 
way is a step in the education of the sea fishermen— -that 
is, if he takes intelligent notice of his error and endeavors 
to correct it. The general principle is to strike as soon 
as possible after first feeling the bite, and "as soon as 
possible" means in this case some portion of a second.. 
Some fish, notably large pout, give a second and even a 
third chance, particularly when some tough bait like 
squid is used. Others, like mackerel, generally rob the 
hook of the bait at the first nip. The conger eel, again, 
sucks at the bite in gingerly fashion, and it is important 
to abstain from striking until the hook is really m the 
mouth of the fish. In short, the correct moment of 
striking can be learned only by personal study of the 
manner in which each fish takes the bait. These matters 
baffle description, and must be acquired at first hand. 
About the maner of striking, however, particularly In 
deep water, tliere if |io doubt in my njind whatever. 
