JUNE, 1920 
FOREST AND STREAM 
301 
overtook a team driven by his enemy, 
Ned Southard. As they passed close to 
each other Matt did not see who it 
was until a trifle past the wagon, but 
the recognition was mutual and South- 
ard, grasping the heavy whip at his side, 
aimed a vicious swing at the despoiler 
of his curly locks. Matt swung quickly 
to one side deftly avoiding the blow and 
with fingers twirling at his nose shouted 
tauntingly, boy fashion, “Got any ol’ hair 
to sell?” He knew he was too well pro- 
tected to fear any other manner of as- 
sault and enjoyed the scowling looks 
which followed him down the road. The 
two men were engaged in earnest conver- 
sation so the boy was left to his own 
reflection. He was a rough country boy, 
knowing but little of the ways of life 
outside his own narrow sphere, being 
sought after by men experienced in 
world affairs and of highly refined na- 
tures, and he was logician enough to 
know that he was imbibing much from 
them in the way of upbuilding, knowl- 
edge and character. And to them his 
frank and kindly nature, coupled with his 
quaint manner of speech, ever appealed. 
While his observation and knowledge of 
the ways of the folks of the woods and 
water unconsciously transformed him 
into a juvenile “Natty Pumpo,” who 
would much rather know the ways of 
mice than of men. 
W HEN they arrived at their desti- 
nation they found a large pond 
which had been raised for the pur- 
pose of boating and cutting ice in the 
winter. The first owner, who had passed 
away some years since, had secured sev- 
eral varieties of fish and installed them 
in the waters where they had thrived 
well. The present owner, a genial talk- 
ative man of but little culture, freely 
granted them the privilege of fishing and 
loaned them a boat and a pair of oars. 
“The’s some big carps in there,” he said. 
“We get one once in a while but they 
are much harder to get than they are 
good to eat, though once in a while 
they don’t go so bad. A sort of a dude 
feller was over here las’ week and he 
got three good ones. It rained some — 
they don’t seem to bite much when the 
sun shines bright jes’ fore dark or 
before sun up is best.” The man was 
talkative and his tongue ran with appar- 
ent ease. “This feller had several kinds 
of baits an’ said he had ketched ’em 
with Lima beans once or twice.” Matt 
straightened up. “Lima beans again,” he 
thought. “I’ll bet Mr. Adams told him 
to say that when he went to the barn 
after him. He’s a stringin’ me.” Mr. 
Woodhull rowed the boat heading it well 
up toward several tree tops which had 
fallen in the water. “Such places are 
the best for crappies,” he said; “they 
He in the shadows of bank and brush.” 
“Your poles are too heavy to have good 
sport with these fish,” said Mr. Adams; 
“we’ll go ashore and cut some long birch 
ones, just heavy enough to make a good 
weight whip.” Matt went ashore and 
soon returned with what Mr. Adams said 
were first rate ones. “ ’Taint no fun 
yankin’ fish outen’ the water soon’s they 
bite; I like to see ’em scoot around,” said 
Fisherman’s haven 
the lad, as he proceeded to trim the poles 
to his liking. “I thought may’be you 
would bring only the heavier lines with 
you and so I thought this would be 
good,” said Mr. Adams, as he produced 
some heavy linen thread which he had 
carefully waxed. “This works well with 
small fish and will last for several trips 
if cared for, besides it will land a good- 
sized fish if well handled- — the same 
hooks we used for perch are good.” Mr. 
Adams used a very light split-bamboo 
much the same in weight as a fly-rod but 
shorter. “Cast well up to the tree tops, 
we’ll get them there if at all, as they lie 
in the shade.” 
The boy was rewarded with the first 
bite and his cork went away with a 
series of sharp nibbles and then went 
down with a rush and out of sight. Then 
he struck. His slender whip-like pole 
bent nearly double and the line cut the 
water clear around the boat, while the 
men raised their tackle to give the fish 
full play. “Gee, but he’s a sport,” cried 
the delighted Matt, as Mr. Woodhull 
slipped the net under the fish and laid 
it in the boat. 
Here was a fish which neither Mr. 
Woodhull or the boy had ever seen a 
specimen of before; much like a sunfish 
in shape but greenish bronze in color 
and darker freckle-like markings, with 
mouth and head quite like a white perch. 
Its weight was about one pound. “It’s a 
good one,” said Mr. Adams. The boy 
gloated over it, closely examining its 
fins and all points with interest. “Seems 
’ough it intended to stay in the water 
after it was hooked,” he said as much 
to himself as for other ears. “I guess 
if they growed to ten pounds they d mos’ 
do it.” He baited his hook and resumed 
fishing. “Don’t make any noise on the 
bottom of the boat,” admonished Mr. 
Adams. “They are very shy and will 
leave the neighborhood if disturbed that 
way. 
“There are no fish better known in 
southern waters. They are fished for a 
great deal. They are generally found in 
muddy waters and will take minnows as 
well as worms and sometimes pieces of 
fish. They are ealled ‘strawberry bass’ 
by a good many people. They look much 
alike but are not the same fish. They are 
good fish to eat, put up a good fight when 
hooked with light tackle and should be 
stocked in all the waters in this part of 
the ebuntry.” The lad was never more 
interested than when listening to Mr. 
Adams when he was giving him informa- 
tion about fish which were strange to him. 
S EVERAL more crappies were taken 
from the same place, but none quite 
so large as the first one. Just before 
leaving for the channel to try for carp 
Matt had a bite and threw into the boat 
a beautifully colored fish, rose tinted on 
the sides shading to a deep orange on the 
belly, with a bronze green back. “It’s a 
long-eared sunfish,” said Mr. Adams, ad- 
miringly, “and they are rare enough 
here.” “I didn’t know fish had ears,” 
said the boy quietly, and the men 
laughed. “See this bluish colored spot 
running back from the gills Hold it up. 
so. Now you see what looks like large 
ears lying along the side. They are only 
peculiar markings of the fish, but they 
look like ears. These fish are all along 
the coast from Maine down, but i some 
sections are scarce. They build nests 
like a bird, only they make them out of 
gravel at the edge of the water. They 
fan the small pebbles away with their 
fins, moving the larger ones with their 
mouths until they have a hollow in which 
to deposit their eggs. They then stand 
guard until they are hatched, driving 
away all other fish which may come 
around I have sat quietly on the bank 
watching their movements and putting a 
small stick in the water I have pushed 
the mother fish more than a foot away 
from her nest when she would return 
not in the least frightened. There are 
several varieties of sunfish, the largest 
being the kind you have taken and they 
have always been hunted by the small 
boy in the brooks. But with trout rod 
and fly just at sundown over shallow 
water; when they are to be .'ound as 
large as this one they are fished for by 
men, as they will take a fly quickly, if it 
is a dark one, always coming to the top 
of the water for it. They will live in al- 
most any kind of water and are good 
pan fishes. As we have more than a 
dozen crappies suppose we get our tackle 
ready and see if we can get a carp. They 
are at times a very difficult fish to catch ; 
at other times they are taken easily. I 
brought some 4-0 hooks along as they re- 
quire about that size, but not much 
(continued on page 337) 
