278 
FOREST AND STREAM 
June, 1919 
FISHING IN THE MISSISSIPPI FLOOD 
THE PERIOD OF HIGH WATER IS THE CARNIVAL TIME OF THE FISHES AS, FOLLOWING 
CLOSELY THE ADVANCE OF THE OVERFLOW. THEY JOYFULLY INVADE THE LAND 
I N THE spring and early summer, in 
the river towns of the Mississippi 
Valley, there arises in the minds of 
the populace what might be called flood 
consciousness. It is the dominant 
thought beside which all else pales into 
insigniflcance. The interests of pretty 
nearly everyone are effected by it; be- 
sides a big flood is in some way a won- 
derful sight that never grows non-inter- 
esting merely because the inhabitants 
have seen many of them. 
So, when the papers run, under big 
black headlines, the story of a big rise 
coming, mixed crowds of negroes and 
whites, old men, middle aged and boys, 
all gather down at the bridge to watch 
the water and discuss the coming flood. 
Old timers tell of other floods in days 
gone by, supported by endless detail, and 
not without thrilling passages that have 
to do with rescues effected, privations 
endured and losses sustained. 
The tone of the crowd is good-natured 
and sober. Perhaps a poker game is 
going on which some member is con- 
stantly leaving and another taking his 
place. They divide their interest between 
the game and looking at the river. A 
bunch of johnboats and skiffs are tied 
at the edge of the slag dump of the 
pumping station, just below the immense 
steel bridge over which the trains pull 
slowly. 
From time to time a man goes down 
to the skiffs and johnboats and ties one 
or two of them higher up the bank as 
the flood pushes back in the green wil- 
lows. A solitary old darkie, with cot- 
By W. R. MACILRATH 
ton mixed with his wool, has a solitary 
cane pole pushed in the bank at his feet 
and a rusty can of fat worms beside 
him. Ashing without success. 
The crowd stands for hours and looks 
at the driftwood and patches of soapy 
foam borne on the chocolate current, as 
the silent river rises higher and higher. 
Men and boys are continually arriving 
and departing, but the crowd is always 
there. Conversation is quiet and in low 
tones. The interest silent and intent. 
The mood of the crowd seems to match 
the mood of the river. 
T he coming of the flood is harvest 
time for the poor whites and 
shantyboat men. Their homes sim- 
ply rise with the flood. They have noth- 
ing to fear; nothing to lose; and the 
possibility of much gain. Besides there 
is the unique flood consciousness that is 
as interesting to an old river man as the 
movie shows themselves. A flood is an 
interesting bit of phenomena. 
While the shantyboater may make as 
much money in normal water, fishing, 
or pearl hunting and digging shells 
from which pearl buttons are made, in 
the flood there is variety and adventure 
and a gambler’s chance. He catches 
saw-logs that have broken away from a 
raft, or have been picked up by the ris- 
ing waters out of the low woods where 
they were cut. He then cheerfully tows 
them to the saw-mill, where he can get 
cash for them just as much as if he 
owned the land where they were cut, 
and cut and rafted them himself. 
The silent, foam-flecked current brings 
him planks and boards to repair his 
shanty boat, or his chicken fence on 
shore; a lot of perfectly good lumber 
floats down the river, to say nothing of 
houses already built. The hire of his 
skiff or johnboat is in more or less con- 
stant demand. 
Besides, the shantyboater knows 
where there are some excellent deep 
sloughs where he can drop in his hoop 
nets at the first indications of the riv- 
er’s subsiding. He knows the stages of 
the water, and when it will be right. 
And he knows that when he pulls them 
up they will be as full of fishes as the 
nets of the fishermen in the Bible; so 
many that a rotten net will not hold 
them. He has just given his nets a coat 
of fresh tar, and they lie stretched be- 
tween trees on the high bank; sticky, 
smelly and drying. 
For the period of high water is the 
carnival time of the fishes. They leave 
the river channels and rush into the 
overflow lands, following closely the ad- 
vance waters, floundering and making 
ringed wakes, joyfully invading the 
land. 
All kinds of fresh water fish are 
among them; but it is hardly ever that 
one catches a black bass or a bullhead at 
such times. But great, brown catfish, 
silently and without demonstration, 
move up the deep channels and sloughs 
into the overflowed lands, and after- 
wards leave them for the woods, the 
maple flats, and the inland lakes. Your 
big, brown catfish is not a noisy invader. 
People stand for hours and look at the driftwood and patches of soapy foam borne along on the chocolate current 
