350 
F () 11 K S T A X D S T R E A M 
July, 1919 
FROM PRIZE WINNERS IN FOREST 
AND STREAM’S BASS FISHING 
CONTEST 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
E quipped with a small tent I spent 
the week ends during the fishing sea- 
son of 1918 at Noxontown Lake, Del., 
engaged in my favorite sport. 
This lake, excellent for black bass a 
few years ago, is becoming fished out, in 
spite of consistent stocking, and my catch 
for the season had been nothing to get 
chesty about. 
The 6th of October seemed as inaus- 
picous for fly fishing, or indeed for any 
kind of fishing as could well be. The 
wind was from the N. W. and a steady, 
rather cold rain was falling when I got 
up, and continued until about 11 o’clock. 
I cooked some breakfast under difficul- 
ties, and pottered around camp for an 
hour or so, wffien, realizing that I was 
going to get soaked anyway, I selected 
one fly, a Grizzly King, and proceeded 
up the lake to have at least some casting 
practice, but not daring to hope for much 
success in catching fish. 
There is in this lake a deep cove, the 
water shallow, and also rather dirty. A 
number of fallen trees, in various stages 
of decay, were lying in the water along 
the shores. I have frequently heard 
fishermen pass it by with the remark: 
“It’s only a carp hole,” and I held much 
the saoi© opinion myself, although I had 
fished it and taken bass there on former 
occasions. 
This morning I fished it rather closely 
as the wind, although blowing almost 
directly into the cove was not quite so 
strong there. 
I had out a long line, for me; in fact 
all I could handle, and when the unex- 
pected rise came, under an old, rotten 
log, I fear I was caught napping. How- 
ever, I struck, missed, and the fish came 
at it again, making a noble rise this 
time, for the first wasn’t much better 
than a nibble. I had him this time. My 
theory was, that, having out so long a 
line and being somewhat slow on the 
trigger, my strike had not reached the 
fly when the bass rose the first time, but 
that, when he came at it again, making 
the water boil, the force of the strike was 
just reaching the end of the line. All 
this only took a moment. It only took 
another second to tell me that I was fasv 
to an aquatic acrobat who would go back 
under his dirty old log instead oi coming 
out into the open water where I wanted 
him. I thanked my stars that I had 
gone light on cigars and invested in a 
rod costing rather more than I could 
afford but dependable from reel seat to 
agate tip under all contingencies. The 
wind was blowing me into the cove 
LETTERS, 
QUESTIONS 
AND ANSWEl 
among the fallen trees, and in spite of 
m.y best efforts he got down among the 
submerged branches. Then, according to 
all the rules of the game he should have 
been numbered among the big ones that 
get away, but some how or other he un- 
tangled himself. I had no part in it 
except to swear steadily, and I got him 
close enough for the landing net. But 
the net was at the other end of the boat 
and in going after it I tripped somehow 
on my raincoat and fell sprawling, but 
still holding on to the rod. When I 
picked myself up the bass was heading 
out into the open water. I don’t know 
whether I had kept a tight line on him 
or not, although it would be customary 
to say so but I do know that the hook 
was still in him. I know that it also 
would be the thing to say that he took my 
line out to the last few coils and I could 
see the barrel of my reel. Maybe he did 
but I was not conscious of it. All I 
know is that he made a long run of it, 
and when I succeeded in turning him he 
came straight back for the boat, went 
under it in spite of my best efforts, my 
leader became entangled around a screw 
eye which had been let into the stern 
board of the boat by some former occu- 
pant for his fish string, and this was 
the position he was in, played out and 
lying on his side, when I slipped the net 
under him. 
I forgot to say in the excitement of 
telling it, that he jumped twice; once 
immediately after I had hooked him, 
when he was trying to get back into his 
habitat under the log and once again 
when he had so considerately unravelled 
himself from among the sunken branches. 
He weighed 5% pounds. 
M. W. Malseed, Penn. 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
W ELL the last day has come I 
thought as I got my tackle ready, 
which consisted of an ordinary folding 
bamboo rod, and for bait a small grass- 
hopper. I also used a cheap line with a 
small hook on the end. I walked down 
to the pier and after selecting a good 
heavy stone and some rone for an 
anchor, I rowed out about half a mile 
on the lake. I soon cast my line and 
after awhi'e I gave my line a jerk but 
it refused to move, so I thought, as usual, 
it was caught on some weeds. But sud- 
denly the weeds began to move and I 
came to the conclusion that I had a fish 
on my hook. 
After a very short struggle I swung 
the fish over the boat and it fell into 
the bottom. Immediately it began to 
jump furiously, so I took an old crank 
handle lying in the boat and after re- 
ceiving a few sharp cracks between the 
eyes it calmed down. 
I quickly rowed back and after some 
little trouble I got him home. On meas- 
uring him he was 22 inches long and 
14% inches around and tipped the scales 
at 4% pounds. 
As this was the largest small-mouthed 
black bass ever caught in the district, 
before long there was quite a crowd 
around the cottage. Even the oldest fish- 
erman in the community admitted that 
he had never caught so large a one. 
C.\RLTON West, Ontario. 
(Age, 10 Years.) 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream; 
O N the evening of Friday, October 
25th, 1918, I jumped in my car, and 
started for Watkins Lake, which is lo- 
cated about thirty miles from Detroit, 
where I had rented a cottage for the 
season. Arriving at the cottage shortly 
after 9.00 o’clock I got a fire well under 
way and arranged things for the night. 
I then started to prepare for my morn- 
ing’s fishing by going over every piece 
of tackle. 
I had only that day purchased a new 
“Wi’scn wobbler,” as one of my old ones 
had seen a number of years’ use, and 
was ready to be replaced. 
After cutting off at the shank one hook 
from each of the gangs, which I always 
do, owing to the fact that most of the 
likely pools in our inland lakes are very 
thickly layed with lily pads and weeds. 
The other wobbler is left for open w’ater 
fishing. I have nearly every kind of 
artificial plug that can be found on the 
market and while using them all quite 
extensively, I have found that most of 
my catches (with the exception of my 
prize fish) have been made whi’e using 
a “Wilson w'obbler.” 
On reaching the water’s edge the next 
morning I noticed that the wind 'was 
blowing very lightly from the west, and 
I knew that in a few hours it would be 
much stronger. I decided to pull for the 
west shore, and cast around before the 
wind arose too high, and leave the east 
shore to be gone over later. On reaching 
the opposite shore it was still quite dark, 
giving me ample time for an after break- 
fast smoke, and time to put my tackle 
in shape. 
A few moments later a faint line came 
into view, which proved to be the other 
shore. I at once swung into action, fol- 
