172 
FOREST AND STREAM 
had we been so disposed, but we were after channel bass. 
At the second stop I put on a big mullet and made a 
long cast toward a spot pointed out to me. Immediately 
the line started to play out, and after a run of about 
twenty feet I brought the rod back with a hard strike 
and felt the hook sink into something big. The line 
played off under my thumb and the stout rod bent to the 
breaking point. 
“You have got a big one,” said Gomez, quickly reeling 
in his line. 
And then there was a battle. I am not an expert fisher- 
man, if I had been there might have been another story 
to tell. The bass was a mighty one, little by little he took 
my 300 feet of line, and though I fought for every inch 
of it, I could not turn him. Gomez saw my line was gone 
when it was too late to pull up the anchor. To' save the 
rod I pointed it toward the taut line and snap, it was 
gone. face must have betrayed my feelings, for 
Gomez said : 
“Never mind, we will get hold of another one shortly.” 
But we didn’t, though we got several more big sea 
trout. By this time Spruce Creek trestle was reached. 
We still had an hour for dinner, and picking out a clear- 
ing in a palm grove extending tO' the water’s edge, Gomez 
ran. the boat in. and in less time than it takes to write 
it, he had out the frying pan and soon we were sitting 
down to a dinner of broiled and fried trout, fried potatoes, 
muffins and guava jelly served on palm leaf plates. Deli- 
cious does not begin to express the quality of that fish. 
I shall never forget it. Shortly after we went off to^ the 
trestle, for we heard the train whistle for New Smyrna, 
the station a few miles below us, I took my badly sun- 
burned face on the train and was soon bowling toward 
the north with the record of my first Florida fishing trip 
impressed indelibly on my memory. C. G. Blandford. 
Fooling an Educated Trout, 
Every whilom reader of our paper is more or less 
familiar with the Castalia or Cold Creek trout stream, 
some thirty miles east of Toledo'. It is recognized as 
one of the finest artificially stocked streams in the coun- 
try, and about a ton of fontinalis (actual weight) is an- 
nually taken from its upper waters alone. But notwith- 
standing their great numbers, it is no- easy task_ to take 
the ten pounds daily limit, since constant association with 
their great enemy has made them wary and suspicious to 
the highest degree. Only the fly and artificial bait are 
permissible in the stream, and the fish soon become ac- 
quainted with a new lure so that each in turn speedily 
loses its seductiveness. Some of the older trout under 
this schooling acquire a cynical character, not unmixed 
with a high estimate of their own acumen as well as a 
deep-rooted scepticism regarding any food forms that 
have the least hint of connection with a nine-foot leader. 
It was one of these gentry that frequented the upper 
stream just above the club house. He took no pains to 
keep himself concealed, but might be seen almost any 
bright morning lording it among a lot of smaller fry, and 
always oh the alert to snap up any choice but unattached 
tid-bit that struck the water by accident or design. But 
as for fly or spoon or spinner, or any of the wonderful 
and impossible contrivances with which the tackle dealer 
beguiles the unsophisticated angler — you couldn’t beguile 
him with the most subtle creation in the catalogue. Os- 
wald used to say that this particular trout had acquired 
the habit of watching the rod on the back-cast, and that 
he had learned to calculate to the fraction of a second the 
time of the resultant fly on the water. But Oswald al- 
ways did have a vivid imagination. 
One morning last week, however, Kenyon had come 
in from fishing^ and was resting from his labors at the 
dub house. It chanced to be the hour for giving the fish 
in the breeding ponds above their breakfast, _ and the 
keeper was just starting up to serve the morning meal, 
carrying a toothsome bucketful of chopped liver and a 
long-handled spoon. As he passed along the bank he 
flirted a spoonful of the hash into the open stream near 
where our cynic lay, and he rose promptly to the occasion 
and the liver. Why shouldn’t he? The keeper and his 
bucket he had often seen before, and the long-handled 
spoon bore no more resemblance to a fly-rod than does 
a walking stick to a double-barreled gun. 
Kenyon watched the operation with an awakened inter- 
est and then he thought something. Next he ransacked 
his fly-hook for a dark red fly, the which when found he 
bent on the end of his leader. But he waited till the 
keeper returned with his bucket and long-handled spoon, 
and to that official he gave a series of careful instruc- 
tions. Again the keeper walked up along the bank with 
the spoon and bucket, and as he came to the vicinity of 
the big trout he waved the empty spoon toward the 
water just as if— well, just as he had done before. A 
few feet behind him was Kenyon, who waved his rod 
simultaneously and the dark red fly fell on the water at 
the very time and place the spoonful of liver would have 
fallen— if there had been any to fall. 
As for the big trout, he didn’t wait. He evidently was 
feeling aggrieved because he had failed to obtain his share 
in the previous distribution, and he met that fly on the 
surface of the water with a promptness and energy that 
surpassed all his previous efforts. He made a rnagnifi- 
cent fight, and when he was finally netted he weighed— 
hang it all! What difference does it make how much he 
weighed? Judged by his brain, and that is the only thing 
that counts, he was at least a hundred-pound_ fish. 
Oswald says that the man who worked this confidence 
game on an old denizen of the stream would never have 
"fooled him if the trout had not become confused. He 
was a lightning calculator and could carry on one mathe- 
matical operation with great rapidity and accuracy. But 
when he undertook to calculate the cast from the rod and 
the cast from the lo'ng-handled spoon at the same_ time 
he got his data all mixed up, and the result was inevitably 
disastrous.- But then we all know Oswald. 
It is earnestly to be hoped that the fanciful atmosphere 
which Oswald and Clarence Brown have attempted to 
throw around this incident will not have the effect of 
creating any doubt in the minds of the reader as to its 
veracity. The main facts — the basic, vital facts of the 
capture occurred exactly as they are narrated, and of the 
truth of the story the editor can have as many affidavits 
as he is willing to pay for, Jay Beebe. 
Toledo, Ohio. 
Grand Tracadie Once More. 
Many places may be found in Newfoundland and New 
Brunswick and in the region between Quebec and the 
Gulf of St. Lawrence, where the general fishing is 
grander, where the imperial salmon holds his sway and 
the princely trout runs in record sizes, but for a quiet 
family resort, one easily reached and where there are 
neither black flies nor the privations of camp life, Prince 
Edward Island can be honestly recommended. 
The island is somewhat larger than our own Long 
Island, but what a “difference in the morning,” as it 
were, especially during- the heated term — and fully as 
much in winter, although then the contrast redounds to 
the advantage of our New York island. It is easily 
reached in a two-days’ journey by the fine express 
steamer plying between Boston and St. John, N. B., and 
connecting by rail and boat with Summerside and Char- 
lottetown. 
This July it was again my good fortune to revisit 
Grand Tracadie, about which I sent an article to the 
Forest and Stream two years ago. This Beach is on 
the gulf shore some 15 miles from Charlottetown, and 
one can be accommodated at the Acadia, a fine little 
hostelry, or at a quiet family boarding house kept by 
Capt. MacDonald and on whose fishing smack I had 
many a pleasant sail. Taking an early breakfast before 
sunrise, then sailing 8 or 10 miles out on the clean, dark- 
blue waters of the gulf, we come to the nets set for the 
nightly run of mackerel. While the skipper and his mate 
are taking up and resetting the nets, one has an op- 
portunity of handlining for the cod, haddock and hake. 
I tried rod and reel on these as commended by Bicker- 
ton in his “Deep-Sea Fishing,” but must confess that 
far more pleasure and fully as much sport is obtained 
by the use of a pickerel trolling line of strong braided 
linen, a well-tempered sproat hook and a cigar-shaped 
sinker of a pound to a pound and a half; this latter may 
be used in sections, allowing addition or diminution ac- 
cording to the strength of the tide. The professional 
fishermen use heavy cod-lines and sinkers of from three 
to five or more pounds. The lighter line offers less re- 
sistance to the water, requiring less weight to keep it 
down and accordingly affords far more play to the fish. 
Beside the additional sport, one will also secure many 
fish whose biting would be almost imperceptible in a 
more clumsy rig, and “cod-fishing” will cease to be 
ridiculed as a mere back-breaking business without any 
claims to angling. However, it is fair to add that in the 
spring and fall when the run of fish is larger and they 
are biting more voraciously, a heavier outfit would be 
more practical. I also used a two-foot snood of many 
stranded gut and found it answered very well. I would 
also recommend clams for bait rather than pieces of 
mackerel which are the orthodox lures of the native 
fishermen. 
The harbor, which is safe for rowboats, affords all 
the flounders and blue-perch one would care to take. 
These perch are similar to, though somewhat larger 
than, the New England dinner, are savage and adroit 
nibblers requiring skill in their capture, and make ex- 
cellent pan-fish. 
At Campbell’s Pond in the neighborhood can be ob- 
tained some very good brook trout, mostly anadromous 
or sea-run. 
Measuring the actual time engaged in fishing by days 
of eight hours each, I spent eight days for all three 
kinds of angling; these netted me 222 cod, haddock and 
hake; 165 flounders and perch, c.nd 32 trout, weighing 
respectively and approximately 700, 53 and 7 pounds. 
W. H. R. 
Nf'w Yofk, Aug. 1905. 
Fish and Fishing. 
Fishermen and Flies. 
Flies have their season as well as fish. Not only the 
favorite flies with fishermen and for fish, but those which 
delight to torture man and constitute the chief bete noir 
of the angler in the northern woods. A disregard for 
these seasons in the selection of artificial lures for fish 
often plays a large part in what is popularly supposed to 
be but fisherman’s luck. And a failure to take into ac- 
count the mosquito, the sand fly and the black fly season 
in the woods may cause untold misery to usurp the place 
of pleasure, although some old campers become in time 
practically immune from the effects of fly bites, and others 
are perfectly content and happy in the midst of the insect 
pests when thoroughly well anointed with their favorite 
dope. 
The other day I visited the newly opened up fishing 
territory north of Lake Temagami, shortly after a Tor- 
onto paper had drawn such a sorry picture of the ravages 
said to have been wrought by the flies with a fishing party 
from that city. The story did not read as if it were very 
much overdrawn, for in the description of the havoc 
wrought by the fiery little insects, I recalled some of my 
own experiences in years gone by, when, as a tenderfoot 
I had boldly plunged into the woods in the very thick of 
the fly season. In the course of nearly a fortnight’s 
camping experience, however, in the same territory as 
tliat in which the flies had been so bitterly complained of, 
we experienced scarcely any annoyance whatever from 
the insects, except in one marshy place in which we were 
compelled to camp by approaching nightfall, and in sev- 
eral instances we slept with the tent door wide open and 
without making a smudge of any kind. I have generally 
found that the worst season for flies in the north woods 
is just about the time when the best of the spring fishing 
for trout is falling off, and this-particular period I usually 
endeavor to avoid. After the first few days of July there 
is a perceptible falling off in. the intensity of the fly 
scourge, and by the end of the month I have usually 
found it to be practically over. 
Returning fishermen from the woods in the Lake St. 
John country report the same absence of flies at present 
there as our party found in northern Ontario, and in open 
spaces swept by the breezes, like the Grand Discharge 
of Lake St. John, there is naturally a general freedom 
from this plagUe. 
The end of the fly season is testified to here by the in- 
creased number of anglers from the New England States 
and from N?w York, who are at present passing through 
[Aug. 26, 1905. 
Quebec to the northern part of the Province. Some of 
them are now accompanied by their rifles, indicating that 
they intend to remain in the woods until after the opening 
of the hunting season on Sept. i. 
There are indications that the ouananiche fishing of 
Lake St. John, which usually falls off somewhat in the 
middle and end of July, and must then be sought in the' 
northern feeders of the lake, is again good in the Grand 
Discharge. Mr. W. H. Boardman, editor of the Railroad 
Gazette, of New York, told me the other day that he had 
enjoyed much better fishing there recently than he was 
led to expect from what he was told by the hotel people 
before he crossed over the lake. His fish, moreover, were 
of a very good size. On his way up to Lake St. John, 
Mr. Boardman was the guest for some days of the Meta- 
betchouan Fish and Game Club at Kiskisink, and very 
much enjoyed the sport which he had there, especially, 
the trout fishing in the Metabetchouan River, which he 
found very good. 
Lake Edward has again been yielding some fish of ex- 
traordinary large size. The other day Mr. and Mrs. Chase 
and Mr. J. Quinn, of New York, brought to Quebec from 
this lake, fifteen speckled trout, of which the smallest 
weighed 2 pounds and the largest 6 pounds, and other 
anglers have been equally successful there o-f late. The 
Ouiatchouan River at Lake Bouchette has also been 
yielding excellent sport to a number of fly-fishermen, 
among whom was the Hon. S. N. Parent, until lately 
Prime Minister and head of the fish and game department 
of Quebec. 
The Temagami Country, 
Though known , to American sportsmen for some sea- 
sons past. Lake Temagami has never before this season 
seen anything like such a stream of visitors as is now 
pouring into the place from all sides. Hitherto it could 
only be reached by a round-about canoe and portage 
route, the present being the first summer for direct rail- 
way communication to tfie lake. Though nearly 500 
miles due north of Buffalo, the railway run between the 
two points is not much more than fourteen hours. For 
those who may object to the touch of civilization which 
the railway brings, there is practically untrodden wilder- 
ness enough, in all conscience, stretching away from 
Temagami station to James Bay, to satisfy the most ex- 
acting adm.irer of nature’s solitudes. Two hotels, one at 
Temagami station, the other at Temagami Island, fifteen 
miles down the lake, were crowded with people whep I 
visited them about a month ago, a few weeks only aftei- 
their erection. Heavy strings of black bass and pike- 
perch were being brought in at all hours of the day, be- 
sides enormous gray lake trout, and yet few of the people 
about the hotels seemed to go any distance from them 
for their fishing. For the first few days of an extended 
tour made by our party into the northwest and northern 
parts of the Temagami region, we saw a few different 
canoeing and camping parties, but for the remaining eight 
or ten days not a soul was seen by us until we reached 
the Hudson Bay Company’s post at Matachewan. It will 
be a long time before the well stocked waters hereabouts 
will experience the results of over-fishing. I did m.y best 
to obtain some reliable records of the big fish of this part 
of the country. The Indians of Temagami claim that 'the 
record lake trout or namaycush of that lake, so far as 
their actual knowledge goes, was a S2-pound fish. One 
of 24 pounds was captured a few days before our yisit 
by Mr. Bogart, of, New York, near the Keewaydin camp 
on Manitou Island. These fish, notwithstanding the low 
temperature of the water in these high latitudes, are o'nly 
taken by deep water trolling with very long lines, during 
the heated period. It is noteworthy, in this connection, 
that while the fish are taken in much more shallow water 
in both the early and late parts of the season, and the 
catches run very much larger, it is by the deep water 
fishing that the largest fish are secured. 
I am thoroughly convinced that there is much more 
and much better brook trout fishing in these waters than 
is generally supposed ; not necessarily in the larger lakes, 
like Temagami and Lady Evelyn, but in the_ higher and 
smaller ones and in the many streams by which they are 
fed. I had an illusti'ation of this at Helen Falls, only a 
little more than twenty-four hours’ journey by canoe and 
portage from Lake Temagami. We camped within a few 
hundred feet of the falls for the night and after supper 
and a smoke I proposed to try the running water below 
the cataract for fontinalis. My companions, who had 
visited the territory before, and who knew that there 
was good trout fishing further on, were not hopeful 
enough of good results to make the attempt. It was al- 
ready dusk and we had had a hard day’s work. But the 
period O'f twilight is a long one so far north, and -my 
Indian paddled me out to the current below the falls, 
while my companions arranged their blankets and went to 
bed. Before they were asleep I was back in camp with 
thirteen trout averaging a pound each in weight. We 
had been fishing for less than an hour, and for more than 
a quarter of that period I had whipped in vain the beau- 
tiful looking oily water, partly covered with foam, just 
below the falls. I might have returned empty-handed to, 
camp had my attention not been attracted by the rise of a 
good fish in the dark corner of a little bay just beyond 
the pool into which the cataract poured its waters. The 
disturbance of the water was close beside a patch of lily 
pads in all the glorious white bloom that distinguished 
them as. Nympheza tuberosa, and a few strokes of the 
paddle brought us near enough to the scene to enable us 
to discern the white moth at which the trout had appar- 
ently risen in vain. Or may there not have been at least 
another moth there a moment before, at which the fish 
did not rise in vain? In any case, the first cast in the 
vicinity of the lily pads was rewarded by an immediate 
rise to the Parmachenee Belle, and I was fast to a 
pound and a quarter trout. It was growing dark and 
there was no time to dally with the fish. He was brought 
to the net with all possible celerity, and the next cast gave 
me a double rise, though only one fish was landed. At 
almost every attempt I had a rise, and sometimes two. I 
suppose that I. had killed my dozen fish in less than half 
an hour from the time of the first rise. Then there came 
another double which wound up the sport. It was too 
dark to be able to see wbat we were doing. George Fri- 
dav. the Indian, undertook to lift the fish into the canoe. 
One he secured, but in the darkness he was so much 
handicapped, that the larger one — always the larger one 
in orthodox versions — disappeared, carrying away with 
