Jan. 21, 1905O 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
BS 
fades. These shells were in demand as grouper bait, so 
I brought them up until weary, and I believe that I could 
have filled the boat. When the men cut them up a week 
or ten days later I watched for the famous pink pearls, so 
valued, but did not find one. The method of opening 
conch is singular. The tip or back of the shell is cut 
around with a hatchet, and the immense animal taken out 
by a screw-like twist. 
The charm of drifting over these gardens of the_ sea, 
now and then diving down into them, cannot be described. 
John advised me not to go beyond the length of his 
grains, yet he could not recall that any one had been 
attacked. 
As the men poled along slowly, I looked for queen 
conchs, or any rare animal that might afford an excuse to 
drop over and go down ; the floor of the lagoon suddenly 
shoaled, and Chief called my attention to some jet-black 
spot coming into view. 
"School of nurse sharks takin' a siesta." 
I wanted a nurse, and still more to see them asleep, the 
question of sharks sleeping being a disputed one; so 
Chief put a piece of sail cloth in the stern rowlock and 
began to scull noiselessly toward the school. There were 
ten of them, seemingly, all jet-black, lying in every posi- 
tion, well bunched and not more than two or three feet 
apart. They were of good size, from seven to eight feet 
in length, and seemed to have more pliability than most 
sharks, as in their positions they were bent and twisted. 
Slowly and carefully Chief sculled until we were within 
three "yards or so of them, then in perfect silence the 
dinghy drifted over the school. The water was not over 
eight feet deep, clear as crystal, and I could see the ani- 
mals as plainly as though among them.' Their heads were 
down or had dropped upon the sand; and that they were 
asleep there could be no question. Had they been awake 
they would have darted away at the sight of the strange 
and menacing figures above them. 
I raised the long grains, took a look at the line, then 
Chief knocked on the gunwale with his oars, awakening 
the sleepers. Each shark dashed ahead in the direction h'^ 
was aimed, throwing the sand high into the watery at- 
mosphere, creating a cloud which involved the entire 
school. I picked out one of the largest and sent the 
grains into it; then one of those peculiar unexpected 
[things occurred : the line had a twist around the pole, 
and as I grasped it to jerk it from the socket — still hold- 
Hug the line — the fish rushed violently and jerked me 
■overboard, and my next impression was being dragged 
f under water. 
' The instinctive impulse is to hold on when fishing, and 
I obeyed it, and must have been dragged ten feet under 
:iter. Chief later said that he thought I had dived after 
I the shark as he saw me shooting along after it, "scaring 
I him to death." But I came up in a few seconds, and by 
bending back and presenting my chest to the water, I dis- 
couraged the shark in a few moments ; but when I threw 
myself on my side, it towed me at a rapid rate, badly 
demoralized. 
It was an excellent and safe opportunity to test the 
strength and towing capacity of a large nurse shark, so 
I indulged in the sport, the exciting pastime of sha,rk 
riding, m.y men following with the dinghy, shouting in- 
structions, the bent of which were that I must not allow 
the shark to tow me into deep water. It towed me possi- 
bly one hundred yards up and down, and I had the crea- 
ture well tired out in that time, due to the fact that it was 
all in shallow water. 
If the shark could have reached the channel it could 
easily have carried me down. It finally swam over a 
shallow sand spit, where I regained my footing and 
slowly worked my steed in, with the aid of my men haul- 
ing it on the beach. This experience happened several 
times; that is, some of us were jerked overboard by these 
sharks; but it should be explained that we were standing 
on the little forward deck of a light boat. I can commend 
the sport as "lively" while it lasts. 
The nurse, sometimes called the "sleeping shark," from 
the fact that it is nearly always observed asleep, is a big, 
harmless creature, almost black or a dark reddish brown, 
with a small mouth and insignificant teeth. To con- 
template one towing me about, its fierce rushes, its savage 
jerks, its doubling and turning, its frantic dashes to the 
surface, beating the water with its tail, would have im- 
pressed the innocent observer that I was the personifica- 
tion of daredevil courage; but a glance at the mouth of 
the monster would have despoiled the scene of its dramatic 
-effect. The nurse is a grubber, a coward. I doubt if it 
has the temerity to attack a big crayfish. The short- 
spined echinus and tough holothurian, or sea cucumber, 
are its prey. Of all the animals cf fht- bta., tliis fish is the 
best "bluffer." It puts up a spl-endtd fiylit and looks 
very dangerous; but ihe nurse is mctel> fri'^htened. The 
shallow lagoon was a pasture, Uu? nurbes were a herd of 
marine cattle asleep, and they- vciurncd to about the same 
spot day after day. I rarely went on a drifting and div- 
ing excursion over the reef but they could be seen, always 
asleep, always running away in a state of frenzied alarm. 
As we went ashore and ran the dinghy on to the beach, 
hundreds of sand crabs ran in every direction — one of the 
most interesting features of the life of this isolated place. 
There are three or four kinds of crabs : first the spirit 
crabs which live in holes along the beach in countless 
numbers, and which mimic the sand in color; a big red 
and purple crab which lives in the brush; a big hermit 
crab, also a brush lover, while its young fill every small 
shell alongshore. All the large ones are bait of the best 
quality; but the crabs constitute the sanitary department 
of the island, and the raids on the birds are a constant 
source of interest. _ . 
Not far from camp I heard a vociferous crying, and 
on approachmg found a noddy's nest being appropriated 
by crabs. I stood and watched the proceedings. The 
noddy, a beautiful bird with mild brown e5'es of a delicate 
chocolate color, with white topknot, had brought a flying 
fish to its young, and all the crabs of the neighborhood 
were coming unbidden to the feast. There were bands of 
hermits ranging in size from a pea to others occupying 
the big pearly trochus shell as large as a top, all 
laboriously climbing the bay cedar tree. The large ones 
overran and knocked off the smaller ones, and there was a 
constant rain of shells from the bush. 
As soon as they lost their hold, they would slip into 
the shell, which would drop, and the crab would imme- 
idiately make for the tree again. The advantage seemed 
held by a large purple land crab which lived beneath a 
neighboring cactus patch, and several were slowly ascend- 
mg, crawliiig over the cowardly hermits and brandishing 
their war-like claws in a menacing manner. Presently 
two reached the rude nest, where a number of hermits 
were stationed. One advanced boldly to the attack, seized 
the head of the fish, while the young noddy held the tail, 
screaming and hissing vociferously, at which all the crabs 
made an advance. In the melee the young bird was out- 
rageously robbed, illustrating the fact that the mother 
bird fished not only for its young, but for the land crabs 
as well. I recall that Moseley describes the crabs oi a 
Southern Pacific island as stealing the young rabbits from 
then- dens, carrying them off bodily. 
The big hermit crabs were interesting pets, and I de- 
cided to become better acquainted with them ; so I baited 
a tree with a dead grouper, and in a short time had 
gathered in a large crop. They came from beneath the 
roots or leaves of a patch of cactus hard by, and were 
all sorts and conditions of crabs— large, small, and in all 
styles of .shells robbed and pilfered from some other crab. 
Never was there such a community as theirs living to- 
gether, each on the lookout to steal the other's home at 
the slightest provocation. That a hermit crab could be 
tamed there was little doubt, and in a short time I had a 
large one living in a pearly trochus shell that would take 
a piece of fish from my hand and would sit for an hour 
looking at me, evidently trying to study out what manner 
of thing it was that gave it food while the birds fought 
against it. By heating the (tip) back of the shell— a 
miserable trick — I obliged the crab to vacate its stolen 
shell, when its fear, its attempts to conceal its soft body, 
were laughable. 
Bob had a broken clay pipe, and clearing this out I 
placed it in the box with the crab. In a very short time 
the latter darted into it and proudly dragged it about. I 
played the same trick on a marine hermit. Bob,- as this 
crab was named (as he never said anything), became 
highly civilized, and later made a trip to the north, where 
he fell a victim to the cold weather. 
These crabs were all land hermits, but there were giants 
in the v.'ater. One I found occupying a 5-pound strombus 
or conch shell, dragging it about with ease, its huge red 
claws filling the entrance — a menacing operculum. 
A Visit to Old Back Creek. 
As THE sun was just peeping over the eastern hills, 
our team rattled down the lane from Jim Dehaven's 
house to the old ford on Back Creek. We had left Win- 
chester in the early morning hours that we might reach 
cur destination early, and therefore have a full day before 
us. Reaching the old camp site we put up the tent. It 
was a glorious November morning, the cool, bracing air 
making us step around lively, and we soon had the blue 
smoke curling up through the trees. Camping once more ! 
How good it was ! How familiar the old tent looked 
there stretched under the .shelter of the old sycamore 
where it had stood so many times before. The water was 
as clear as crystal. How, in former years, had we longed 
to see it in this condition ; but we can't always have good 
v.ater when out on these trips. We had come up here 
to old Back Creek simply to spend a few days camping 
and fishing and living over the days of years ago. My 
partner had gone up to Jim's to see if he could get some 
eggs for breakfast while I was getting a pot of coffee 
ready. Pretty soon he came back, accompanied by old 
Jim, with a bucket of fresh eggs and some milk. Right 
you say ! That breakfast tasted better than anything we 
had had since last we were out. 
After breakfast and a good smoke and talking over old 
times with Jim, we got our fishing traps together and 
wended our way up through the meadow to Beaver Pond, 
about a quarter of a mile distant. The sun had gotten up 
some little distance by this time and was bathing the 
scene with golden splendor. The air was full of tonic 
elixir, and we drank in with deep draughts the pure, fresh 
air and the beauty of the landscape. As we neared the 
pond we could hear the splash of the bass as the monsters 
sallied forth in search of whatever they might devour. 
Our hearts throbbed with anticipation of some good 
sport, for we knew that in former years we had caught 
fish here, and why not now? Arrived at one of our 
lavorite points on the pond, we jointed our rods together 
put on a "catty," and went after them. Partner's bait had 
hardly touched the surface of the water before I heard 
the whir-r of his reel and saw the old-time excitement in 
his eyes. The fish took a straight shoot right down 
stream and probably ran thirty feet of line out before he 
stopped. Off he tore again, but not so far this time. 
Partner stopped him in his mad rush, and then the fun 
commenced. Partner was getting excited, and said if he 
lost that fish he'd go back to camp and mourn the rest 
of the day. He was playing him for all he was worth, 
but that fish had the devil in- him for sure. He sawed 
and he zigzagged and threw himself clear out of the 
water in a vain endeavor to free himself, but partner had 
him — had him good and fast — and as his struggles grew 
fainter my friend reeled him in — a monster 5-pounder. 
"Ah, Cline !" he said, "that was worth a lifetime." 
Nothing had been "doing" with my "catty," which was 
pirouetting around over the bottom of the pond; but 
presently something scented him from afar, and soon my 
reel was ringing out to the music of a 17-year locust. I 
at once forgot about partner's 5-pounder — I only thought 
of the monster at the end of my line, for he certainly 
felt heavy. My fish ran probably twenty feet, stopped a 
few seconds, and struck out again. Now is the time 
most fishermen will call a halt, and, by the force of habit, 
I did so, and as usual hooked into something. Now it 
was my turn to have some fun. My ! but it was great, 
i was once more full of the old excitement that thrills the 
soul and takes one back to old experiences. My line 
cut the water like a knife as the fish struggled in vain to 
break away. I finally wore him out and landed him high 
and dry and compared him with partner's. He was shy 
one pound, but he was a beauty, nevertheless. The finny 
denizens of the depths seemed crazy for the "catties." It 
was certainly a repetition of one morning years ago when 
Steiman Snapp and myself, who were camping at the 
ford, took 37 pounds out of this place. After an hour 
and a half of some of the best sport I ever experienced, 
we counted up and bad 39 pounds, My! but what a 
bunch it was, 
It was along about 12 o'clock, and we had run out of 
bait, so concluded to stop fishing and eat our lunch, after 
which we lighted up our pipes and reminisced of former 
camping trips. When old "Snappy" and I used to pirouette 
aronnd here, there could always be seen followers of 
Izaak along the banks of Back Creek; but nowadays it 
seems as if the anglers have found new fishing grounds 
and forsaken the old creek, which, if they only knew, 
furnishes just as good sport noAV as' it ever did. It was 
along here that "Snappy" and I were caught in a cloud- 
burst, and It was an experience that neither of us will 
ever forget. We were wading just below the pond, and 
why we never heard the roar of the water coming I could 
never understand. The wall of v ater swooped down upon 
us and carried us down some rlistance before we really 
knew what had happened. Then we came to our senses 
and took.m the situation, which didn't appear to be a very 
pleasant one. We had on very little clothing and no 
shoes, and as we both conld swim we managed to keep 
on top, pulhng for the bank all the time, but it was hard 
work m that rush of water. We finally reached the bank, 
and grabbmg hold of some bushes held on until we could 
pull ourselves out. We then raced down through the 
meadow to camp to pull down the tent should the water 
get up that high, and we were on the point of doing so 
when we saw the torrent encroaching upon our camp 
But It didn't quite reach us, and we congratulated our- 
selves upon having escaped with our lives and being high 
and dry above the flood. 
All the members of the old Back Creek camp are mar- 
ried now except yours truly, and I am afraid that as long 
as 1 retain a fondness for camping and life in the wilds, 
the ladies will have to excuse me. 
Retracing our steps and looking down over the level 
meadow to the ford we could see the white canvas 
through the trees. What sweet recollections the sight of 
It brought to mmd. I could almost imagine I could see 
my old friend "Snappy" lying flat along the high banks 
there in the meadow trying to fool the fish with a fly. 
What times we used to have down there at camp at 
night when the boys from the country near-by would 
come down with their sweethearts and say, "Let's have a 
dance." We'd light up the old camp torches and repair 
to the green just over the fence. "Snappy" was excellent 
on the mandolin and I played the second on the guitar 
and when we got warmed up on the "Georgia Camp- 
Meeting there was some great swinging of partners in 
that meadow. But those days are gone, and the pity of it 
all IS we can never live them over again. 
After supper Jim Dehaven came down to see us We 
could never forget old Jim, especially "Snappy" and 
myself, for we remembered so well the first time we 
camped up here. It was our first trip out, and we were 
youngsters then, and it got mighty lonesome down there 
m the hollow some nights until Jim would come down 
and stay awhile, and sometimes stay all night. We talked 
over experiences of the past until 10 o'clock, when our 
friend went home, and then we stretched out upon our 
cots with naught" to disturb our slumbers save the 
monotonous orchestra of the katydids. 
The next morning we went down the creek to Ducks' 
Roost, another favorite camping place of Winchester 
sportsmen. Charley Brown, now a member of the 
Shenandoah Rod and Reel Club, has had experiences 
down there and says it is one of the best places on Back 
Creek for bass Mr. Brown has fished all along this 
waterway and has probably caught as big fish as any one 
one°s \Tfh% ^'^T ^^"Sht some ver/nk 
ones at the Roost, and returned to camp at i o'clock in 
It was right along here that "Snappy'' used to rTg up 
His bCL 1111^6. vviien uic water Vv ..c^ ciear you cuuiu see lac 
uctss very piaiiiiy swuuiniug auuuL, auu lue omy way you 
could catch them was to stretch a line from bank, bait it 
with live minnows, and then go away and wait. They 
wouldn't bite if any one was near. After a farewell swim 
at high banks we returned to camp and pulled down the 
tent, and after bidding a fond adieu to the scenes of our 
younger days, we pulled out for old Winchester 
A. T. C. 
Winchester, Va. 
British Colttmbia Salmon, 
Vancouver, B. C— Consul L. Edwin Dudley writes: 
"ihe sockeye season on the Fraser River has been the 
most disappointing ever experienced; only about 80,000 
cases (48 pounds each) have been put up in -the twenty- 
three canneries operated. Overfishing and the absence of 
wise practices in respect to propagation are assigned as 
the reasons, and it is certain that unless prompt and 
energetic measures are adopted the industry is doomed. 
In this connection it is gratifying to report that a con- 
ference between the Puget Sound and the Fraser River 
canners has been held in Vancouver, which, it is earnestly 
hoped, with the assistance of the governments of the 
State of Washington and of the United States, will result 
m joint and energetic action being taken on both sides 
of the border to avoid so great a calamity. 
"At present there are hatcheries in this Province as fol- 
lows : Operated by the Dominion Government--Bon 
Accord, New Westminster, capacity 10,000,000 fry; Har- 
rison Lake_ (building), capacity 25,000,000 fry; Salmon 
Arm, capacity 20,000,000 fry ; Lakelso, capacity 10,000,000 
fry. Operated by the Provincial Government— Seaton 
Lake, capacity 20,000,000 fry. Operated by the British 
Columbia Packers' Association — Alert Bay, capacity 
5,000,000 fry. Three more hatcheries, with a capacity for 
handling 25,000,000 fry each, have been ordered to be 
constructed, one on the Skeena, one on Rivers Inlet, and 
one on the Fraser River. These will probably be installed 
early in 1905, and will be available for the collection of 
spawn in the fall of that year. It will thus be seen that 
provision has already been made for handling 90,000,000 
spawn, and that facilities for handling 75,000,000 m'ore'are 
being provided; consequently it only needs the adoption 
of reasonable and sensible methods for permitting fish to 
reach the spawning grounds to perpetuate the supply." 
All communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., 
^ew York, ttnd not to a^y i^wUvidual GOQnected with the p^se?. 
