200 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Sept. 3, 1904. 
In Nebraska. 
Omaha, Neb., Aug. 21. — The modest hepatica and fra- 
grant violet and mayflower, harbingers of springtime, and 
welcome guests, have come and gone, and the catkins on 
the willow that appear before the snows of winter depart, 
have long since been succeeded by the frondescence of 
summer. The burning sun of July invites to shade and 
cool retreat, whence we may see the heat waves rise from 
earth and dance and tremble until lost in the higher at- 
mosphere. Hardly a breath stirs, and it seems as if we 
were all alone in the world, and that nature is enjoying a 
siesta. But no, look right here where we sit, in the 
shadow of the big cottonwood, a colony of ants ply their 
honest toil, a spider noiselessly spreads his net in the 
branches overhead, and a katydid breaks in with his 
sibilant nasal song. Our companion of many a day 111 
field and covert, old Sport, for instance, tired of panting 
and lolling, throws himself broadside on the ground, and 
let us hope that he, like his master, finds comfort and 
pleasure in the recollection of distant, but not forgotten, 
days with the quail and snipe in the autumn time. 
memory stories^ experiences, and yet not catch a fish 
worth the weighing. 
Ah me ! Many is the time that I have been there, and 
in these sweltering days it does me good to recall the 
other days of interest and delight, days when the cares of 
business and the perplexities of life were laid aside and 
forgotten. My thoughts go back to days in the marsh 
and in the fields that will linger long as cherished remem- 
brance, not because I shot so remarkably well or scored 
such a large bag of ducks, quail or chicken, for I have 
long ceased to measure my joys by the dimensions of my 
kill or catch. The early drive in the clear, frosty morning 
air, genial comradeship, the good old Barrister, for in- 
stance; no friction, no mishap, cordial reception at our 
destination, fine working dogs, reasonable number of 
birds and fair shooting, all contribute to the joys of an 
outing. 
It has often been said, but bears repetition many times 
over, that it is not all of shooting and fishing to shoot and 
fish. Week by week and year by year the truth of this 
is being shown anew in these columns, wherein it is my 
aim to make record of nature's studies, the travel ex- 
periences, the observation, suggestion, wit and wisdom of 
the sportsman's family. Nothing serves better to bring 
out the light and shade of all the sportsman and the man 
loves best than just such pictures as are here presented. 
What a work-a-day life this would be, indeed, if nobody 
took these trips and if there was no one to tell of them. 
An Omaha gentleman, an elderly man, who imagines he 
sees the restoration of youth in the fisherman's garb, 
called on Henry Homan the other day for his advice 
about buying a rod. Henry showed him one after another 
until he had exhausted his stock, some dozen in number, 
and the respectful caller lectured him in his own house 
over the extravagance of owning so many rods. I do not 
know what he would have thought had he been at the 
dinner of the Fly-Casters' Club over in Chicago the other 
evening, where one member said he owned eighty-four 
rods, with reels, lines, flies, and everything to match. The 
probabilities are he would have had a stroke of heart 
failure. 
Talking about the destructive habits of the buffalo and 
the carp to the spawn of other fishes, Hon. Lew May, 
our ex-Fish Commissioner, the other day said that he 
had been informed by old residents of this section that 
when they first came here the abundance of the buffalo 
was something enormous, and their plentifulness to-day 
does not compare at all with that of the old-time period. 
They also told him that the quantity of game fish existing 
with the buffalo was immensely larger than at present, 
and that no one ever imagined that the presence of the 
buffalo was destructive to the existence of game fish. The 
characteristics of the carp and buffalo are so closely re- 
lated and their habits so similar, that one might well 
doubt whether these fish are the cause of the extinction 
of the game fishes. May it not be that they are the effect 
and not the cause; that they multiply and take up the 
water formerly occupied by the game fish which have 
been destroyed by the persistent and everlasting fishing of 
the market fishermen, who from time immemorial have 
used their nets and seines in every waters of the State? 
A brother Council Bluffs sportsman tells me that the 
resident Chinese wall in Iowa doesn't amount to anything. 
Sportsmen from Nebraska have been over since the non- 
resident law was passed, and are now welcomed over 
there, and will be given the best the State affords, whether 
the best be clad in fur, feathers or scale. I am glad to 
hear this, for it is the American way of doing things, 
and the American way is better than the Chinese way. 
The only reason I indorsed the non-resident proposition 
in the late law passed by the Nebraska Legislature was 
simply through the theory of self-preservation. The 
Dakotas, Iowa and Missouri had all passed such laws, and 
it seemed necessary for self-protection that Nebraska fol- 
low suit. But as in Iowa, however, I think that it will 
amount to nothing, anyway, so far as our near neighbors 
aie concerned. 
It is invariably the big fish that finds its way into the 
columns of the newspapers, but for every big one 
heralded, a thousand smaller ones go to the frying-pan 
unchronicled. If there were no fun in fishing except when 
a \v>r fish was captured, the aggregate of disappointment 
and disgust would far outweigh the sum total of satisfac- 
tion found in the average fisherman. As it is, one may 
find a day full to overflowing with interest and bright 
A golden precept is to make the most of the fishing 
open to you. If you are "chained to business," don't sulk 
because you cannot journey to the far-away and famous 
resorts, where the giants of the waters are waiting for 
minnow, fly or spoon ; but take a half day and go up to 
Cut-Off or out on the Elkhorn. There you may hear the 
liquid tinkle of the blackbird, the sweet call of the 
meadow lark, the trill of the thrush, and the jingle of the 
robin, and you can find flowers, too, and feast your tired 
eyes on the surrounding world of emerald; besides, in all 
probability, get a few fish; and if you don't get these, if 
you are careful, you can get tired and dirty, and ihen, 
when you get home at night, you can go to sleep. Oh, 
my, how you can sleep ! 
I had a little talk with ex-United States Senator Man- 
derson on the street the other morning, and both haying 
just returned from a delightful sojourn at Lake Washing- 
ton, our conversation naturally turned to subjects per- 
taining thereto, and the Senator innocently unfolded a lit- 
tle story on himself, which he said they all thought was 
a great joke up there. He was out with George A. Hoag- 
land, with Dutchy, one of the Volk's guides and boatmen 
at the oars, after pike. They were anchored off the third 
point, at one of the deepest holes within all Shantaska's ' 
shores. They had fair luck for a while, then came a long 
and tedious lull, and Mr. Hoagland in desperation ex- 
claimed : "Here, Dutch, take this pole and show the 
Senator how to catch a pike. "I do dot, too, alretty," 
responded the Teuton, as he grasped the old sportsman's 
rod, hooked on a good big chub and threw out. There 
was a golden flutter of light on the ripples round about 
when the chub disappeared a moment; the gleam of a 
near-by white oak kindled the purple gloss of the water ; 
the dragon fly flashed his blue and emerald as he zig- 
zagged about, and around the boat the brown water 
spiders skated. 
"I got dot peek," suddenly exclaimed Dutch, as a 
mighty tug at his line rouses him from his phlegmatic 
calm. There is a vicious plunge, a swirl and a jerk, but 
Dutch plays him just right, and soon he is reeling in. 
His captive's motions become slower, he makes one more 
desperate lunge for the depths, one more dart for the 
rocky bottom, but he, like all his kind, is quickly wearied, 
so Dutch pulls him carefully toward him. There is a flop 
or two in the water, then a last faint resistance and out- 
pull, when there is a silvery glistening under the surface 
near the boat. Senator Manderson seized the landing net, 
dips with the deftness of an old hand at the business, 
and in a trice a 5-pound pike is captured. Both Hoagland 
and the Senator were a little nettled at this — that the 
boatman should show them how to fish and make the 
catch of the day, and while Hoagland sulked in just dis- 
gust, Manderson exclaimed : "Well, now, Dutch, watch 
me. I'll show you how to catch a pike as is a pike." And 
with a chub nearly the size of the one Dutch had used, 
hooked beneath the vertebrate, the Senator threw in just 
where "Already yet" had made his big catch. The sinker 
had barely dragged the minnow out of sip-lit, when the 
Senator got a strike, and a furious one, too. This way 
and that the line cut the cerulean surface, a line of rubies 
and pearls following the silken flight. Off he goes like an 
arrow from a bow; down like a lump of lead; up again, 
and pulling for the tule border, but the Senator turns 
him off. Hoagland is up already with beaming face and 
landing net in hand. How skillfully the Senator plays his 
monster catch. Now he gives him line, now he reels it 
away from him. Look at the Senator's face: how grave, 
yet collected and self-reliant. He reels in and he reels 
out; then in again, and he cries for Hoagland to be ready; 
in, in, in, but the fish tries to pull under the boat; but the 
Senator will not let him touch — he's too old a hand at 
the rod for that ; so, dexterously, he winds him in. Hoag- 
land leans over the boat, while Dutch grasps the gunwales 
in keen expectation; Hoagland raises the netted bow; 
bends lower to make a perfect dip, then falls back into the 
boat like a man who had been pierced with a Mauser 
rifle bail, and bursting into a derisive laugh, he exclaims : 
"Nothing but a danged sunfish," and lifting up his rod, 
a four-ounce goggle-eye dangles helplessly from the 
Senator's imported hook. 
Senator Manderson agrees with me that Lake Washing- 
ton is one of the most entrancing and picturesque bodies 
of water in all this lovely northern country. He made a 
forty-mile drive there one day round about the lake with 
Mr. Hoagland, and in this jaunt they touched on the 
shores of eight more lakes, several of them as big as 
Washington. He rhapsodized over the scenery, which, 
with its matchless expanses of silvery waters and its sea 
of darksome woods, and long stretches of flowing fields, 
cannot be surpassed in the civilized world. Twenty years 
ago this wilderness hardly contained a hut or shanty, and 
was rarely invaded by visitors. But of late years the 
number of sportsmen and tourists has gradually but 
greatly increased. The deer are gone, of course, but the 
bass and the pickerel are as plentiful as ever. The shout 
of the loon, too — that symbol of the wildest and loneliest 
of the scenes haunted by this wildest and loneliest of 
birds— now but rarely meets the ear. What enjoyment, 
what health, wealth and religion there is in an outing at 
such a place as Shantaska's beautiful waters and leafy 
bowers. The savage lake, the bluffs, the green forest, the 
blue skies, all present an impressive picture. We linger 
for days on the beamy lights, the velvet shades of the old 
masters, of Dominichino, of oCinabue, of Giorgione, of 
Titian, of Tintorretto and G&tude, whose names glitter 
with the magic tints of Italy and ring with the gojden 
richness of her music. But the colors born of that great 
artist, the Minnesota atmosphere, flash disdain upon the 
tame blazonry of the old masters' mimic hues. Give me 
one day in the woods or on the waters, with gun or rod, 
to forty years in a Paris salon. Even the divinest fres- 
coes of Raphael must yield to the common tints of dawn 
and twilight at Shantaska, and the architecture of Angelo, 
Brunelleschi, and Giotto — they have cast a spell to which 
time is powerless ; but look upward in your strolls from 
your boat or wherever you may be, arid there you will find 
architecture with pillars and arches and colonnades and 
towers, not tiresome to the eye in their sameness, hut 
changing even as you gaze, resting on foundations of liv- 
ing sapphire, and flushed with flitting tints that transcend 
even the most holy dreams of those masters, the. "great 
heirs of Time." Sandy Grisw'old. 
Fish and Fishirg. 
High "Water in Canadian Rivers. 
Quebec, Aug. 27. — The high water that was so badly 
needed for the continuance of good salmon fishing in the 
early part of the summer has made its appearance, now 
that the salmon fishing is over. There has been more 
rain of late than anglers have wanted. Trout fishermen 
have found the rivers too high for good sport. In the 
lakes the fishing has been better, but the August trout 
fishing has proved quite disappointing. The weather-wise 
are foretelling a good September for river fishing. The 
September weather is usually about the finest and pleas- 
antest of the year in Canada, and old anglers say that the 
late rains and consequent high water must have had the 
effect of stirring up the fish that had grown lazy in the 
hot and shallow summer water, and that nothing but 
somewhat lower water is now required to furnish the best 
of fishing. Most of those who could conveniently do so 
have postponed their holiday fishing trips until after the 
present rains have subsided. Nothwithsiandmg this, quite 
a number of American anglers are at present in camp at 
the different club houses along the line of the Quebec and 
Lake St. John Railway. September is certain to be a 
busy month for guides and others in northern Quebec. 
The fact that the hunting season commences here on the 
first of September will serve to increase the volume of 
travel in that direction. 
As a rule, 1 have in the past counseled those who doj 
their Canadian trout fisnmg in the tall of the year, to 
provide themselves chiefly with small flies. This year, 
on account of the present high level of the water, visiting 
anglers will probably make no mistake in bringing with 
them a lair assortment of larger flies. Some of them 
should be as large as those employed in rapid water in 
the early spring hshing. 
Ouananiche Fishing is Better. 
While the high water of the last fortnight or three 
weeks has proved anything but favorable for trout fishing 
in the Lake St. John country, it has exactly suited those 
fishing for ouananiche. As a rule, the low, warm water 
of the month of August causes quite a falling off in the 
nature of the sport in the Grand Discharge. This year 
the ouananiche not only remain plentitul in the most ac- 
cessible parts of the Discharge, "but continue to rise very 
freely to surface lures in the high water, especially in the 
pools below the Grand Fall and at the upper end of Isle 
Maligne. The flies now being taken there are the Jock- 
Scot, silver-doctor, professor, and coachman. Recent 
visitors to the locality report the killing of several doubles. 
Ouananiche fishermen may be reminded that the season 
for this sportive fish, which formerly closed on the 15th 
of September, was extended last year by order-in-council 
of the Dominion Government, and that it may now be 
fished for up to the last day of September. This is quite a 
boon for fly-fishermen, as the fish rise better in September 
than in any other month, and it has been quite satisfac- 
torily established that they do not spawn until after the 
brook trout, which have always been fished for in Canada 
up to the end of September. 
Both at the Grand Discharge and also at the different 
club houses in Northern Quebec, an unusually large num- 
ber of applications have been received for accommodation 
during the month of September. It promises, in fact, to 
be by far the busiest month of the season for all 
concerned. 
When Fishes Leap. 
One of the earliest lessons taught by experienced 
anglers to the tyro is to be sure to lower the point of the 
rod when a hooked fish leaps out of the water. It is 
safe to say that the salmon fisherman who would fail 
to follow this advice would cover himself with ridicule 
from both guides and fellow-anglers, so universal is the 
belief that it is dangerous to continue connection with the 
fish to maintain the rod in the same position when a 
salmon leaps at the end of the line as it occupied before. 
As ouananiche' have recourse to the same tactics as sal- 
mon in their endeavors to free themselves from the hook, 
the practice of lowering the tip of the rod when a hooked 
fish leaps is about as general with ouananiche anglers as 
wjth those who fish for salmon. The other day I heard 
two returning anglers from Lake St. John discussing this 
general rule. One of the two was quite skeptical as to the 
necessity for the practice, ' arid claimed that he had en- 
joyed more than the average amount of success in saving 
his fish while systematically refraining from following it. 
There is something in his argument, and an increasing 
number of anglers seem to share his views. He holds 
that there is no rhore pressure upon rod or hook or line 
while the fish is in the air than when he is in the water, 
either immediately before he leaves it or immediately after 
