22 
FOREST AND STREAM 
January, 1920 
seen bobs before. Everybody round here 
uses ’em.” “While I have heard of them 
in a way, still I never before saw one nor 
understood just how they were made,” 
Mr. Adams answered. “As eels will eat 
almost any kind of substance of an ani- 
mal nature, I wonder if something else 
would answer as well as worms,” asked 
Mr. Adams. “I do’ know,” said the boy, 
“seems ough worms is best.” “On our 
camping trip we may find out many 
things by taking our time which we 
would be most sure to overlook on a short 
trip,” Mr. Woodhull said, as he was look- 
ing forward to the trip with great antici- 
pation. Matt said: “I wonder if Aunt 
Mary’l let me go?” 
^(TTD'T’E’D best take the stoutest poles 
I’ve got,” remarked Matt, as he 
came from the shed with the de- 
sired articles, “don’t want ’em to bend too 
much, you have to chuck ’em out quick.” 
He then tied the bobs to the ends of the 
poles with stout strings, leaving them to 
swing free a few inches. “I’ll 
get some matches to start a fire 
’long the bank; it draws eels 
some, ’sides helpin’ you to ketch 
’em as they move quick on grass 
when it’s wet.” He next pro- 
duced a basket into which he 
laid a piece of muslin which 
apparently had done service of 
the kind before. “Wouldn’t it 
be better to take the bag along,” 
he was asked, “the basket has 
low sides and eels can get out 
quickly. “Not when I get 
through with ’em,” said Matt. 
After telling the Aunt, they 
started off and strolled across 
the field to the white bridge, 
then along the border of the 
creek which led up to the mill. 
“here goes a wood-duck,” said 
the boy, as the whistle of wings 
sounded over-head and, shading 
his eyes with his hand, he bent 
low and watched the bird’s 
flight into the swamp. “She’s 
got a nest there in that ol’ tree 
she’s lit in; funny why them 
birds alius builds nests in 
trees; I’ll bet she’s got young 
ones — it’s time for ’em now. 
to go over an’ see how many, 
must be near ready to fly by now. 
Hawks hunt ’em hard when ducks 
is little. Don’t seem’s ough any 
could get by, but they do.” So he rambled 
on in his own way, this untutored country 
boy. Little of anything in nature escaped 
his vigils r, ' eye and apparently nothing 
once seen v ever forgotten. He could 
tell the nun oer of eggs each variety of 
bird would lay as vvell as their color, also 
the kind of feod the mother bird would 
bring to her nestlings at the different 
periods of their growth. In fact he was 
acquiring an elementary knowledge from 
the Book of Nature which contains no 
typographical errors nor ambiguous text. 
“Seems we started plenty early,” he 
said as they stopped under a large tree 
standing by the side of the creek, “eels 
don’t move ’bout much till dark an’ after. 
Look! Right down at the foot of the ol’ 
white birch the’s a mus’rat out.” The 
little animal came into view with its 
mouth filled with young roots which it 
proceeded to wash with a degree of en- 
ergy, in the clear water, swinging its 
head from side to side until, apparently 
satisfied with its efforts, it lowered itself 
into the water and swam noiselessly 
across the creek and disappeared in its 
burrow in the bank, the tiny waves giv- 
ing back a faint echo from the opening. 
“I of’en come out in the woods Sundays 
an’ just set still for hours an’ the’s many 
funny things I see,” continued Matt. 
“Seems ough birds an’ other things has 
their troubles as well as folks, on’y dif- 
ferent kinds. I’ve seen minks chase rab- 
bits all over the swamp; they’ll track 
’em like a houn’ dog. Seems ough every- 
thing’s the mortal enemy of a rabbit.” 
As they passed along they picked up 
pieces of bark and sticks, anything which 
was dry was put in the basket to make 
their fire with. Matt gathered up some 
sand and wrapped it in his piece of mus- 
lin. “A little of that on the rag an’ you 
get a grip on Mr. Eel ’at you can’t no 
other way. Gosh, but they’re slippery. 
“We’ll go in on this side of the mill 
hole this time, near the wheel, the water 
ain’t so deep, ’sides they most lay where 
the water dribbles out from behind the 
water-wheel — don’t know why, but they 
do. It’s cornin’ near dark now an’ we’ll 
light the fire clear down by the water so’s 
they’ll see it — they’ll alius come to’ards 
a light. Put your bob in an’ let it lay on 
the bottom; you’ll feel ’em yank if any’s 
here, ’sides you can fair hear ’em tunk 
their heads on the pole when they grab 
for the worms. You won’t need no tellin’ 
when you get a bite.” Both secured seats 
and presently Mr. Woodhull realized that 
an eel was at his bob; there was a most 
decided yank and a peculiar sensation of 
jarring on the pole. He communicated 
the fact to his boy companion. “Well, 
yank,” he said, “soon as you feel ’em you 
needn’t wait; they’ll eat your worms all 
up if you don’t.” At the next pull Mr. 
Woodhull raised his pole from the water 
but there was no eel. “You was plum 
slow,” said the boy, “an’ when they come 
out ’en the water swing the pole clean 
over the bank quick or they’ll drop off, 
now, watch me.” The lad brought the 
pole out so fast it could be heard cutting 
through the water and was bent nearly 
double; the motion was carried over the 
bank when an eel was heard to drop well 
back of him. “I got a good one then,” 
he said, and by the light of the fire Mr. 
Woodhull saw him throw a small quantity 
of sand on the rag and in a moment he 
came back with a large eel squirming 
energetically but unable to get loose. 
“You sure tucker ’em with a little sand 
and a rag,” he said, then placing the eel 
firmly on the ground he gave it a quick 
cut with his knife just back of the head 
when it instantly became inert. While 
he was thus engaged Mr. Woodhull rose 
to his feet. There were sounds of struggl- 
ing at the surface of the water then an 
enormous eel dropped at their very feet. 
“Geewhilikens ! What a whop- 
per,” gasped Matt, “you’ve got 
the daddy of ’em all,” and he 
grasped it with his sanded rag. 
The eel as promptly wrapped 
itself around his arm and con- 
tinued to turn in the boy’s grasp 
while he was endeavoring to get 
his knife point in at the desired 
spot. “It’s stronger’n a bull,” 
he said, “Gee, but they twist 
some.” Finally the coup was 
given and he held up a splendid 
specimen, fully three feet in 
length.” “He almost took the 
pole out of my hands,” said Mr. 
Woodhull, “this is sport! But 
what gets me is why they hold 
on so long.” “They don’t— they 
get the thread in their fine teeth 
an’ can’t let go,” said Matt, “if 
you jerk ’em quick. Seems 
ough Mr. Adams knows a pile 
’bout fish an’ fishin an’ a whole 
lot about eels I didn’t know. 
Seems queer none breed ’cept in 
salt water.” “Mr. Adams has 
traveled and read a great deal 
and, being fond of the sport has 
had a chance to learn much,” 
said Mr. Woodhull as he threw out 
another eel. 
By this time they decided to quit, their 
bobs were really used up, little remaining 
but the bare threads, and they had quite 
a basket of eels. 
“I’ll find a little more wood and make 
a bright fire an’ skin ’em; it’s a good 
place here,” said Matt. His companion 
looked askance at skinning a basketful 
of eels. To him it seemed an almost in- 
terminable job but he said nothing. 
Matt secured a piece of board and 
starting at the place where he had cut 
the back through he ran the sharp point 
of the knife down the back several inches, 
then severed the head, taking care to not 
cut through the skin at the throat. Then, 
holding the body of the eel firmly with 
his knife, he gave a sharp pull, loosening 
the skin all around the end. Then, taking 
the end in his right hand he, with his left, 
took the entire skin off with one pull; 
the entire operation taking but a brief 
Matt Buckley with a giant eel 
I’d like 
They 
