2 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July 2, 1904. 
ITDRTSHAN TOURIST 
Concerning a Certain Idiosyncrasy 
of Anglers. 
Here in the Pennsylvania Alleghanies, with streams 
containing trout in greater or less qunatities within a 
day's drive, the trout fisherman flourishes in all his gl° r y> 
and the opening of the season for catching these speckled 
beauties is an event before which a presidential election 
or a war with Spain pales to insignificance. On this great 
day every angler starts out promptly. 
To an outsider the most remarkable thing about the 
opening of the season is not the fish nor the fisherman, 
not the success nor failure of the trip, not even the size 
of the catch nor of the fish, but only the fact that yearly 
becomes more apparent, namely, when the season opens 
these lovers of the art must go a-fishing; that no amount 
of certainty that the trip will come to nothing— that con- 
ditions are such as to absolutely prohibit their catching 
any trout — can't keep them at home. 
Being only a woman, with all the usual limitations of 
the sex, I can look at this matter only with a woman's eye, 
and this is the question that comes most frequently to my 
mind: If anglers go fishing to catch fish, as they un- 
doubtedly do, despite the assertions of enthusiasts that 
this is not the great reason, why don't they go where 
it is most likely they will succeed ? What can a day or a 
week matter, except as a passing disappointment? Why- 
must they start on the minute ? I am, of course, willing 
to admit that conditions here may have bred a different 
species of the genus angler than flourishes in less favored 
spots. Still, the question remains. 
This is the way it goes every year. The season opens 
on the fifteenth of April. This is the actual season when 
trout may be legally caught. For enthusiasts, however,the 
real season, so far as enjoyment goes, begins about the first 
of February. Sometimes, in mild winters, it makes a 
hesitating start as early as the first of January. This is 
what might be termed the preparatory stage, and is abso- 
lutely indispensable to the proper appreciation of the real 
season when it does arrive. Among the anglers that 1 
have had the most opportunity to observe, it is every year 
considered perfectly proper to discuss fishing— in a gen- 
eral and imoersonal way— after the first of January; but 
no angler who has any regard for his reputation would 
think of making definite plans, ot getting out his tackle- 
even to inspect it— or even of ordering his rubber boots, 
until after the first of February. Even then he rarely 
permits himself to speak with decision on the subject, 
realizing well, at this time, the chances that are against 
him. After the first of February, however I have no- 
ticed the angler becomes bolder; talks openly of his in- 
tentions, plans his trips, considers his equipment, begins 
to hurry up his work, to save his money, and to show 
a deep-seated concern over the condition of the streams 
and of the weather generally. These trips, I have ob- 
served, are still sufficiently distant that he will invite 
everybody to so with him. Only acquaintances of very 
recent date, or those who have not profited by the expe- 
riences of the years gone by, place any dependence on 
these invitations. , 
Later on more aggravated symptoms appear, and rods, 
nets, and other tackle are brought out and overhauled 
As March draws to a close, and the early days of April 
come, a state of nervous expectancy takes the place ot 
the calm consideration of earlier days, and by the fifteenth 
of April the angler has talked and thought and dreamed 
himself into such a frame of mind that he can't stay at 
home if he tries, no matter, as I said, what the condition 
of the weather or of the streams, or what the chance may 
be of his catching trout. This fine frenzy, I am glad to 
say, soon wears off, and by the end of a few trips the 
angler becomes once more a rational man. But when 
the season opens— the minute it opens— the angler must 
go. Let me illustrate : 
Recently there occurred a winter of such unusual 
severity that even an angler with his eyes fixed firmly 
ahead and all his other senses in a comatose condition, 
must have known that the ice was unusually heavy the 
weather cold, and that we came up to the fifteenth ot 
April nearly a month behind the usual condition ot 
things. Indeed, reports were freely circulated, coming 
from seemingly reliable sources, that at various places 
where the early trout is wont to await the angler, they 
were blasting the logs out of the ice. But— did the 
anglers stay at home until it warmed up, the ice melted, 
and the much-sought-for trout came forth from his win- 
ter quarters? Not one of them. They started promptly 
at the time set. They found it cold— bitter cold. Ice 
froze every night. They caught nothing. The trout had 
not left the deep water where they had lam all winter, 
and had neither curiosity nor hunger to prompt them to 
investigate even the most tempting bait. Now, every 
angler knew how it would be before he started, but he 
couldn't stay at home 
Another year that I racell, comdtions were different, 
but not a whit more encouraging. It was an early 
spring That is, spring made a fine show of appearing 
early in March, came with a bound over night, as she 
sometimes does. The warm days she brought with her 
melted the snow and ice, and as a result the streams were 
very high all through March and April. Besides being 
warm, it rained a great deal. When the great day— the 
fifteenth of April— dawned, there was a six-foot flood in, 
the nearest creek, the old 'Sock; every stream in the 
State was out of bounds ; it was raining hard, and had 
rained with heart-breaking persistency for three days and 
nights before. Did the trout fishermen go? Of course 
they went! Whole wagonloads of them went; young and 
old alike, with hearts like the hearts of boys. Weeks 
before they had set the hour for starting, and they had 
to go. 
Another year another state of things existed. The 
weather had been all right, and the streams were in such 
a state that the fishermen's hopes ran high, and they 
were abole to make their preparations with much quieter 
consciences than usual. The newspapers, even, vied with 
each other in reciting the admirable conditions, and thf 
tremendous numbers of trout waiting to be caught. Now 
another difficulty arose in the particular group of anglers 
of whom I know most. One of the keenest of them all 
injured his leg; it seemed seriously hurt ; he suffered 
intensely ; his groans echoed through the house ; the doc- 
tor was constantly required; he appeared entirely in- 
capacitated. Such was the condition on the evening of 
the ' fourteenth. Did he go with the others? Go? Of 
course he went! He couldn't stay at home. At the_usual 
hour, armed with crutches and canes, he swung himself 
out of the house, was pushed and pulled and hoisted into 
the wagon, and the party proceeded. I am obliged, in 
justice, to add that, although disabled, he did catch one 
trout from a boat tied to the bank ! 
Yet" another year things were in even worse shape. 
Everybody was sick when the sacred fifteenth arrived, 
not only the anglers, but most of their families. One 
fisherman was just recovering from typhoid fever; an- 
other had coughed for six weeks; another had his entire 
family down with the measles, and a fourth possessed a 
new son, not yet three days old. Did they go a-fishing? 
Of course they went, every one of them. They had to go. 
The only case that I know of that parallels this of the 
anglers, is furnished by a little old lady who lives up the 
street. She rents several small houses and oversees them 
most vigorously. On the first day of every March she 
invariably takes out and stores away for the summer all 
the cellar windows of every one of these houses. No 
matter what the weather, nor what the chances that 
everything in the cellar will freeze up, out these windows 
come on the first day of March. I presume she has to. 
Several of the anglers have tried this same method 
with other things. For several years one of them planted 
his garden on the first day of April — so that he might 
have nothing on his mind when the great day came. 
Some times he even stuck his peas with brush. The 
second or third year proved late and cold and everything 
froze clear to the ground, and had to be replanted. He 
was even heard to assert that the pea-brush was so in- 
jured by the frost that it could not be used for the later 
crop. But he learned better, and gardened after that 
by the weather. 
The same year he dug his potatoes and put away his 
celery on a convenient date in the early fall that he had 
settled upon as proper. This time it stayed warm. The 
celery rotted, every stalk of it, and the potatoes turned 
all shades of green and were good for nothing. In this 
case, also, he learned better, and put away his crops with 
strict reference to the weather thereafter. So I know 
that anglers can be reasonable. 
I am, as I said, only a woman, but I know what the 
upshot would be if I said about Christmas time, "On the 
fifteenth of April I shall put away all of the family's 
winter underwear," and stuck to it, or made any other 
similar arrangement. 
Of course, I am not going to deny that in following the 
apparently inflexible rule of the anglers concerning their 
behavior on the first of the season, sometimes things go 
well. The skies are sometimes the true April skies;. the 
sun is warm, the water is right, the roads are good, the 
trout are where they should be, and in a proper frame of 
mind; the right man has charge of the boarding place, 
the lunch proves just the thing, and the anglers bring 
home trout — whole dish-pans full of trout — and their 
hearts are satisfied. Neither shall I deny that there may 
be exceptions to the aforementioned rule. In fact, a 
rumor was current in the neighborhood this spring of an 
angler— a real angler — who stayed at home of his own 
free will and dug garden the day the season opened, and 
it did not open on a Sunday, either. The angler in ques- 
tion is admitted to be well past seventy years, and jt is 
not denied that this is the first opening he has missed 
since he was seventeen. None the less the rumor remains 
unverified, and I myself, am sure, from my knowledge of 
the genus, that upon investigation it will prove untrue; 
that if said angler were able to dig garden, he did not 
dig it— he went a-fishing! 
Justina Johnson. 
ft 
L'Habitat " 
New Yota, June 16— Editor Forest and Stream: In 
your issue of June 4 there appears a story by W. W. 
Brown, entitled, "L'Habitat." I take this opportunity ot 
writing you a word in commendation of this sketch._ Be- 
ing a native of New England, and having enjoyed similar 
exoeriences, this story touched a responsive chord, and 
was read with interest. I shall look for more stories of 
this nature in future issues of your publication 
• H. K. McCann. 
A Summer in Newfoundland* — II. 
(Continued from page 520 ) 
At nine o'clock,, only' two hours behind scheduled 
time, the train pulled out slowly from the wharf, and was 
soon speeding over the narrowest or narrow-gauge rail- 
roads, well on toward the Grand Codroy River. This 
stream is one of the largest and surest for big salmon 
anywhere on the island. It is also the most accessible 
from the continent, and is consequently the most fished. 
At that early date we learned that many of the best pools 
were already taken, and, sadly enough, that no less than 
fourteen sportsmen were camped along its banks. One 
of them — a gray-haired angler nearly eighty years of 
age — had killed his record fish, a 35-pounder, just as the 
train crossed the trestle. He was one of the old reliables, 
and had not missed a season on the Codroy for many 
years. He could always be found early each summer 
camped by his favorite pool; but this was the first time 
that the old man's strength had failed him when put to 
the test, for this time he had needed the assistance of 
his guides, one on either side propping him up as he 
handled the long two-handed rod. May all such old 
anglers live on to fish by the brightest rivers and the 
purest waters ; may their last casts be strong and sturdy, 
and may they be rewarded by the finest and heaviest that 
the pool affords. 
Once more the little engine starts with angry puffings, 
the wheels turn, and soon the Codroy, far behind, glistens 
in the distance like a thread of silver. It is a splendid 
river, and affords very early fishing, but we passed on, 
reluctantly leaving to the thirteen sportsmen and the old 
angler the enjoyment of their pools in peace; no doubt 
they are the better friends with us for so_ doing. A 
stream with too many people roaming_ along its banks is 
often more unsatisfactory than one with too few fish in 
its waters, but where all the pools are your own, and 
your camp-fire is the only one that shines out into the 
woods -at night. 
After passing Grand Codroy, the next stream large 
enough to warrant fish in respectable numbers or size is 
Crabb's Brook ; while further on Little Barachois, Robin- 
son's and Fischell's are just about as good as Crabb's. 
The latter is deep and wide at the mouth, and should 
yield an early run of salmon, at least in the lower reaches 
near the ocean. Fischell's is a beautiful brook, long and 
winding, with many pools; but unfortunately it is so 
narrow and shallow, especially at the sea, that the fish 
are late in running in, and during dry seasons many of 
the larger ones do not enter at all, but move on up the 
coast for deeper water. Robinson's is much the same, 
but contains more water, is deeper, and the pools are 
nearer together than in Fischell's. Flat Bay Brook, a 
few miles further up the coast, is a good stream, espe- 
cially in the deep, broad pools near its mouth. The latter, 
however, is completely shut off from the open ocean by 
Sandy Point, and as a rule salmon do not ascend in any 
numbers until quite late in the season. Bottom, Main 
River, and Harry's Brooks are all first rate rivers, the 
former for trout, the latter, once famous for big salmon, 
still records the capture of several heavy fish each season. 
It has never been my good fortune to cast over the deep, 
dark waters of the Humber; flowing through rocky 
canons and between high granite cliffs, it is unquestion- 
ably the grandest, most majestic river in Newfoundland. 
About forty miles from the coast a great fall prevents 
many of the fish from ascending further, and in the pool 
below first-class sport should be found. One gentleman 
. whom I met on his way to the Humber, told me that this 
pool was so large as to require the use of a canoe or 
dory, but that it held many salmon, thirty-six falling to 
his rod in two weeks during the season of 1902. 
The reader must not suppose that the streams named 
above are the only ones in Newfoundland, or thaf they 
contain more than a very small proportion of the total 
number of salmon. Two excellent rivers flow into 
Hawke's Bay on the northwest coast, while many of the 
southern waters, and the Exploits, lower Terra Nova, 
and Salmonier— the latter for small fish— are said to offer 
grand sport, although I have had no opportunity to 
verify the statement from my own personal experience. 
Of late years netting has been judiciously restricted at the 
mouth of the Gander; it is fished but little, and probably 
contains more and larger salmon than any other river on 
the island, with perhaps the possible exception of the 
Exploits. • ... 
The sun had set and night was fast approaching when 
our train, squeaking loudly on the tracks as it rounded 
the last curve, drew up in front of a squalid log hut, 
which, as section house, marked our destination. It had 
been a long journey over the rails. At almost every 
brook sportsmen had been getting off, and it was with 
great satisfaction that we watched the train pull out. 
feaving only ourselves on the platform. William and 
Jim were there waiting, and a little in the rear John, the 
untried cook, a bashful youth of some twenty years, men- 
tally sized up our appetites, as, doffing his cap, he awaited 
salutations. Old Jim, the head guide, was a quiet little 
man of about sixty, brown, sinewy, and accustomed to 
work, of the hardest kind. He scorned the cod or her- 
ring fisheries as a means of livelihood, but had lived his 
life as a trapper among the hills of the interior, and, to 
use his own words, spent every winter since boyhood 
