126 
FOREST 
AND 
STREAM 
March, 1920 
THE SILVER TROUT 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
F ROM one of our local newspapers I 
learn that a lot of our so-called silver 
trout eggs are to be shipped to some 
of the Eastern States in exchange for 
eggs of the brook trout of that region. 
First, allow me to call attention to the 
fact that here in the Northwestern States 
we have three distinct species of fishes, 
known as silver trout. 
Number one, being the silver trout of 
Lake Tahoe, Salrno tahoensis, which 
reaches a length of 24 inches. 
Number two, the silver trout, Salmo 
gibsii, found in the tributaries of the 
Columbia River, and last, as well as 
least, the so-called silver trout of the 
State of Washington, which is not a 
trout, but a pigmy salmon, identified at 
Washington, D. C., as Kennerlie’s sal- 
mon, attaining a length when mature of 
from 6 to 8 inches, and like all of the 
salmon of this coast, dying after spawn- 
ing. Now if the fish commissioners of 
the Eastern States are acquainted with 
the characteristics of this pseudo trout 
and still think it a safe experiment to 
introduce it into competition with their 
game fish, it becomes their risk, but the 
fact that they are even considering its in- 
troduction into their waters causes me 
to strongly suspect that they have had 
no experience with this fish, and hence 
may pardon my calling their attention to 
its undesirability as a sportsman’s fish. 
While the writer has not caught all of 
the game fish of the United States, he 
has fished more than the length of the 
same, both on the Atlantic and Pacific 
Oceans, and from Wisconsin to the Gulf 
of Mexico, inland, and cannot recall any 
other species of fish, not forgetting the 
boyhood sucker, that takes the bait in 
such a spiritless manner as this Ken- 
nerlie’s miniature salmon. 
In fact it was seldom that I could feel 
them bite at all, even on a light tackle, 
with a small sinker below the hook. 
Upon the other hand, when they make 
their appearance for a short time, at 
the wharves of Lake Whatcomb, those 
women and childern, who can be amusdd 
with that class of fishing, catch them in 
considerable numbers, and I noticed that 
small, bright-eyed boys, with their faces 
near the water, into which they could 
see for a depth of 3 or 4 feet, seemed 
to catch more than the average, and 
they did it by watching the little fish 
to see when they took the bait into their 
mouths, while one woman kept up a 
continual jigging of her pole, saying: “I 
just can’t feel them bite at all, so I keep 
jerking my pole in hopes that I may 
jerk at the right time and I catch as 
many as most of the others.” Out of a 
probable 1,000 of these fish that I have 
seen caught, nearly all of them were 
from 6 to 7 inches in length, although 
they are said to grow larger in other 
parts of this State. Like all salmon, 
they are good eating, that is, what there 
is of them, but, of course, in this re- 
spect are not in the same class as the 
pompano of the Gulf of Mexico. 
As a game fish for sportsmen I should 
call them a flat failure, and as a food 
fish for real game fish they would be 
worse than a failure, for such purposes 
a fish should be non-competative in food 
habits with the fish that he is intended 
to be good for, like the smelt, herring 
and mullet of the Gulf cf Mexico, all of 
which live upon the abundant micro- 
scopic life and in turn are good for the 
larger predacious fish; without the form- 
er the latter would not be possible. 
One of our game wardens relates that 
when he was stocking a lake with this 
little Kennerlie’s salmon, that an old 
Indian chief, who derived his trout from 
the lake, remonstrated strongly against 
the proceeding, and pointing at the fry, 
said: “Nasty, nasty, nasty, no trout, 
cultus salmon, eatum all bugs up, bime- 
by no trout in lake.” By the word “cul- 
tus” he meant worthless. 
In short, provided that this would-be 
silver trout should thrive in the waters 
of the Eastern States. I should expect 
them to eat the beautiful brook trout lit- 
erally out of house and home, as his food 
habits are the same, he multiplies rap- 
idly and grows just large enough to be an 
adept at catching the insects, larvae, etc., 
upon which the young brook trout depend 
for a living, while he, himself, never does 
become a real game fish. 
If any state in the Union is blessed 
with more ideal trout streams than is 
this State of Washington the writer has 
yet to see it, but while some large catches 
of trout are sometimes reported, as a 
rule the sportsmen earn all that they 
get, and occasionally fail to get what 
they think that they earn. 
However, during the warmest months, 
you can usually catch some steelheads, 
cutthroat and the often large, but less 
gamey, Dolly Varden, while at all times 
the plunging waters are a constant de- 
light, especially in the wild streams of 
the Olympics. 
Cyrus W. Butler, Washington. 
HUNTING RABBITS WITH FERRETS 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
In your December, 1919, issue, I note 
a letter advocating the use of ferrets in 
the pursuit of the rabbit, signed by Al- 
fred C. Weed, New York, that appears as 
unsportsman-like to me in the same de- 
gree as their prohibited use seems unfair 
to Mr. Weed. I have read and re-read 
Mr. Weed’s letter and for the life of me 
I fail to see where he has the right to 
kick if a poor, friendless rabbit beats 
him to it and “submerges.” We hunters 
of Pennsylvania take our hats off to 
“Bre’r Rabbit” if he is so fortunate to 
outwit both the hounds and guns of this 
state. We want him and want him very 
much and we will lay a reasonable wager 
that we will get him, as we possess the 
necessary requisites, a good hound, and 
gun, but if we fail to get him above 
ground, we never tunnel for him. He has 
beaten us to it and is entitled to that 
consideration. 
Mr. Weed claims that a rabbit will not 
run over a few hundred yards before tak- 
ing refuge. If his contention is correct, 
the rabbits of New York must all be 
afflicted with asthma, or are a lazy, no 
account tribe. Not so with their brethern 
over in the Keystone State, as the follow- 
ing narration will prove. While writing 
this letter my gaze wanders to a little 
fourteen and a half inch, straight-legged 
Beagle dog, Devonshire Teddy, by Bar- 
maids Driver, lying on the rug before the 
fireplace, dog-dreaming of the numerous 
cottontails that he was responsible for 
having “finis” tacked to their career, and 
I have the occult power to know that he is 
now dreaming of the very identical rabbit 
that I intend to allude to. I, with a party 
of other fellows, were at Jim Heckman’s, 
at Schartlesville, Berks County, Pa., on 
a hunting trip. On the evening of No- 
vember 2, we went on a coon hunt, and 
“Teddy” insisted on going along. We 
headed for “Jim’s” Place, and on the 
homeward trip, this record event oc- 
curred. At 10:20 p.m., “Teddy” gave 
tongue, and at 12 m. he returned to our 
party. For one hour and forty min- 
utes it was one continuous “tongue”; 
sometimes he would be almost out of hear- 
ing. That rabbit went more than a few 
hundred yards. Nothing asthmatic about 
our Pennsylvania rabbits. 
I also must take a snap shot at Mr. 
Weed’s aversion to hunting birds with a 
bird dog. His comparison is ridiculous. 
In the same breath he acknowledges the 
reason for his aversion — he is a poor 
wing shot. That is the solution to the 
case. If Mr. Weed would hie himself to 
the fields accompanied by a broken setter 
or pointer, and a dependable gun. I feel 
that he would have an entirely different 
