204 FOREST AND STREAM May, 1921 
EARLY FISHING FOR BROOK TROUT 
ALTHOUGH A CONFIRMED FLY-FISHERMAN, THE AUTHOR OF “TROUT LORE” ADMITS 
THAT EARLY IN THE SEASON HE EMPLOYS “GARDEN HACKLE” TO ADVANTAGE 
By 0. W. SMITH 
U ndoubtedly no fish will ever 
quite fill the place of the trout, 
and the trout par excellence is 
the Eastern brook ti'out, or red spots. 
Oh, I make no quarrel with the doughty 
rainbow and active brown, both are 
good, but for true enjoyment forever 
commend me to the little streams with 
their highly colored denizens. If the 
time ever comes when the Eastern brook 
trout ceases to be found in wild streams 
I will be inconsolable. But it was not 
to write especially of the red-spots that 
I sat me down, rather, as my title indi- 
cates, of trout-fishing — whatever trout 
fishing offers — in early spring. 
The enticement of spring is very real 
and not to be gainsayed. I have been 
an “angling editor” for a number of 
years, and I have noticed that by mid- 
January the number of my correspond- 
ents perceptibly increases, and by 
mid-February it has doubled; from then 
on until actual fishing begins in April, 
my mail is very heavy indeed. The 
burden of the great majority of letters 
is tackle, tackle, tackle; new rods and 
reels are wanted. Some are contem- 
plating the purchase of expensive dou- 
ble tapered lines, while others are ex- 
ceedingly anxious, anxious over night, 
to learn the gentle art of fly-tying. 
Some, too, must revamp old rods and 
desire to know how best to set about 
it. Those are the real signs of spring 
to me, occurring as they do before the 
first prairie horned lark is seen feed- 
ing in the highway, or even the chicka- 
dee down on the edge of the swamp 
changes his song to “Phoebe-e-e-e, 
phoebe-e-e-e.” 
Let us suppose that the outfit, from 
rod to fly-book, and yes, worm-box, is 
in apple-pie order. The rod re-varn- 
ished after every loose ferrule has been 
re-set and every frayed winding re- 
placed; the reels carefully gone over, 
cleaned, oiled and polished; the fly- 
book thoroughly looked to, worn flies, 
flies with a history relegated to the 
“Saints’-rest,” while reduced stock hat> 
been replaced. That all takes time, but 
oh, it is rarest fun : and it helps to while 
away the long evenings, the longest of 
the whole year, those at the birth of the 
season. 
While I am free to confess that it 
does not make much difference where 
we go on Opening Day, so long as we go, 
still somewhat different tackle is re- 
quired for the varied fishing confront- 
ing one. I can conceive of a man be- 
ing confronted with the question, the 
tremendous question of worms or stay 
at home. My position on the matter 
is too well known to reopen here, for 
I believe a man can be just as 
good a sportsman, just as true a 
disciple of Walton, and use “garden 
hackle,” as when employing flies, and 
I am a confirmed fly-fisher. I never 
could quite understand, and am slightly 
suspicious of the arrogant individual 
who never uses anything but artificial 
flies and regards a “wormer” as be- 
neath his august notice. There are 
streams, little, whimsical, meandering 
brooklets, where — but peace. 
Fishing the Baby Streams 
I N my estimation there is no trout- 
fishing that can compare with that 
found on the baby creeks, I mean in 
early spring when, unless the season 
be unusually forward, fishing is not 
very good anywhere. It is not so much 
the fishing itself, as the urge of spring, 
the age-old desire to get close to the 
fragrant earth that takes us afield. 
Not every angler can successfully fish 
the tiny brooklets. I sometimes think 
the baby-streams fisher is born, not 
educated. I have always had an in- 
stinct for the little creeklets. I can 
fish them, and take enough fish to odor- 
ize the fry-pan even on Opening Day. 
Yes, on such streams I use worms, and 
what of it? It is utterly impossible 
to throw a fly, so tangled are they with 
brush, and sometimes, refuse. Yet, if 
you will understand me, there is more 
Outdoors on the marge of such a creek 
than along the banks of many an im- 
posing river. 
I want a rod light and resilient to a 
fault for such fishing, though it must 
have sufficient back-bone to lift the 
water blossoms out by main strength 
and awkwardness. I carry a landing 
net, though there are few pools on such 
a stream as I have in mind large 
enough, with sea-room enough, so to 
speak, to employ a landing-net; never- 
theless, once and again, the landing- 
net, which people said I “carried for 
looks,” saved me a 3 and a 3% pound 
trout. For, and do not forget this, 
once in a while those little streams will 
present the understanding fisherman 
with record fish. 
One such stream, much fished by me, 
located within stone’s throw of a city 
of 55,000, actually within two miles of 
a street car track, presented me with 
several fish over 2 pounds and almost 
any number of 10-inch sparklers. I 
remember one day, the season then 
opened on April 15th, my wife and I 
tramped out to the creek. The willow- 
cats were just turning yellow while the 
early flowers were everywhere mantling 
the south-banks. We carried a few 
worms and no flies, for the latter would 
have proven utterly unattractive, and 
the former warranted us enough fish 
for lunch, with perhaps a brace or two 
to take home at night. I shall never 
forget the day, the first in the Open 
after long imprisonment. The red- 
spots were actually crazy for worms. 
Every little pool and eddy had its trout 
waiting to grab at the offered bait. We 
had to be on the job every instant, or 
a snag would result. 
A brook trout will lie concealed un- 
der overhanging bank or beneath a 
small log, ready to pounce upon a worm 
tossed by the current within reach of 
his hiding place. And I would have the 
reader notice that “tossed by the cur- 
rent,” for that is simulating nature 
and therefore regarded by the fish with 
little or no suspicion. Do not “plop” 
your bait down right in front of the 
log or other lurking place; that is not 
Nature’s way, and all else being equal, 
the angler who duplicates Dame Nature 
wins the fish. When handling flies, I 
prefer to have the feathers thrown into 
the face of the fish by the current, for, 
if you notice, fish rise to the fly ninety- 
nine times out of a hundred as it floats 
to them on the water. Therefore the 
A bad tangle but there are trout here 
