12 
FOREST AND STREAM 
July 5, 1913 
Bonnie Brook 
By THEODORE GORDON 
M R. DENMEAD’S “Defense of Bait-Fish¬ 
ing,” in the last issue of Forest and 
Stream, reminded me of the brook in 
which I caught my first trout with a worm. But 
it was not just a common worm, because I was 
chaperoned on that memorable afternoon by 
“Docky” Noble, and he had great faith in 
scented baits. 
After digging his baits in the garden, Docky 
would proceed to the drug store and invest sev¬ 
eral coppers in a good big bunch of asafetida. 
The worms were placed in a dirty sock, and in 
their midst a piece of the asafetida, which is 
very good for nervous people, as well as to 
attract fish. My family always knew when I 
had been fishing with Docky, because on my 
return I perfumed the whole house. 
Bonnie Brook was a perfect trout brook, 
flowing in part through sweet meadows and in 
part through a swampy woodcock covert, where 
one or two broods of cock were always bred, and 
where a few flight birds could usually be found 
in October. Bonnie Brook had many deep holes, 
and there were great cavities under banks where 
huge trout lurked. How many these were we 
never knew, until a miscreant in the disguise of a 
fishculturist set his nets and secured great num¬ 
bers of splendid fontinalis (native brook trout) 
from one-half pound up to a noble specimen of 
two and one-half pounds. 
We had killed one now and then of one 
pound or better, but it was difficult to get the 
worm to work four or five feet under a bank 
covered with rank grass or overhung with 
bushes. The water in Bonnie Brook was clear 
as crystal and ran over either clay or clean 
bright gravel. It was a fascinating little stream, 
and the man or woman who named it in the 
early days of the first settlers knew quite well 
what he or she was about. It was a favorite 
haunt of our friend Docky, though his 14-foot 
fly-rod was rather long for such a stream, but 
he was a dyed-in-the-wool bait-fisher, although 
he always carried a tangled mass of flies on 
gut in his pocket book and could cast them 
lightly with his big rod when he wished. But 
Docky was a bit lazy and very fond of whiskey, 
so he found worms on an easy open stream 
more agreeable to his taste than fly-fishing. He 
rarely entered the tangle of vegetation in the 
woodcock covert, but fished the water in the 
open meadows. I recognize the type of the 
stream described by Mr. Denmead, and hope that 
he does not fish the little brooks in which we 
put the fingerlings. (We have put out 10,000 
recently.) Men and boys do fish these nurseries 
and kill great numbers of baby trout which are 
placed there to feed and grow big enough to 
afford sport in the main stream. 
Of late there have been signs of a reaction 
against the cult of the dry fly. In this country 
we can do nothing quietly or in moderation, and 
for about two years the floating fly had a tre¬ 
mendous “boom.” It was advertised so much 
that many people were impressed with the idea 
that the dry fly was a dead sure thing at any old 
time anywhere and would always lure big trout, 
while wet fly and bait-fishers could do nothing 
at all except sit around and admire. I love the 
floating fly and fish it often in early spring when 
I know quite well that I could kill more trout 
with wet flies properly fished. But the floating 
fly affords the maximum of sport upon the 
waters suited to it, and we are not after records 
or thinking of the cook. 
I know the streams described by Mr. Den¬ 
mead, and quite understand that the large trout 
in them can only be secured by bait-fishing, 
which requires good and patient work. At one 
time I used all kinds of baits and flies also, and 
punished the streams I fished to the best of my 
ability, but there is one deadly bait which I 
never used and never mention, as it seemed to 
madden the trout. A very few fish content me 
nowadays if they are large enough to afford 
really exciting sport. I have fished the dry fly 
for more than twenty years, at first only to trout 
that I saw rising at natural flies. If one can 
fish for large trout in sight, sport becomes most 
exciting, and the next best is a rise which one 
knows must be a big fish. The greatest good 
for the largest number is conserved by fly-fishing 
only, as one can follow many fly-fishers and still 
have sport. The angler’s chances are reduced 
to a minimum when he is compelled to follow 
a minnow fisher, who scores the trout and puts 
them down. Worms are not so injurious and 
grasshoppers do not interfere much if they are 
fished by a decent man who has some regard 
for those who follow him. In a large body of 
flowing water the trout are less easily alarmed 
and come on the feed again sooner than in small 
streams. When a club is formed to fish a bit 
of leased water, one of the first rules to be 
adopted is “fly-fishing only,” and this is for the 
good of the stream and the members. One 
greedy angler might ruin the sport for a dozen 
men who only had a day or two to spare for 
fishing. 
We do not care for preserved waters un¬ 
less they are hard fished and hold wild trout. 
Who cares much for trout that will rise freely 
at almost any fly and can be taken without 
effort? My visit to one lake in Maine was 
spoiled by the announcement of the camp keeper 
that he had been obliged to bury seventy-five 
pounds of trout the morning of the day I ar¬ 
rived. 
If I needed fish for food I would use bait 
if it was necessary. As for wet and dry flies, 
it is, I think, true that there are more dry-fly 
fishers than really scientific wet-fly men. I 
know a few of the latter and we have fished to¬ 
gether wet versus dry. They are quite equal 
to taking care of themselves. 
Let us be liberal and kind to one another, 
trying to smother prejudice and cultivating a 
spirit of peace and good will among the brethren 
of the angle rod. We can have a good stock 
of trout in free waters—that are pure and well 
stocked with food—if we are not too greedy 
and obey the laws. 
A few ultra dry-fly men may assume airs 
of superiority, but they are mostly good fellows. 
I have never known one of them to kill too 
many trout. To be able to meet difficulties 
successfully, yet stick to the artificial fly in all 
trout waters, we feel that the American angler 
should thoroughly understand the dry, the wet 
and the sunk fly. This is too big a country for 
partial knowledge. 
Dry-Fly in Nova Scotia. 
BY EDWARD BRECK. 
I was delighted to read the column by 
Theodore Gordon on the above subject, for next 
to receiving a letter from that gentleman the 
greatest honor is to be “pitched into” by him. 
Both these privileges are now mine, for he 
speaks truth when he says that he wrote me, 
offering to reproduce our bluenose May flies if 
I would send him specimens. Better than that, 
he inclosed in his letter one of the most ex¬ 
quisitely tied artificial flies that I have ever 
seen; one that 1 carried about in my pocket book 
all winter and showed to every angling acquaint¬ 
ance of mine whom I considered worthy of 
feasting his eyes on such beauty. Well and good, 
but now for my apologia. 
Did Mr. Gordon expect me to send him May 
flies before May? Aha! Well, those May flies 
were duly collected, one of them on that very 
day when I captured the perch (!), and they 
are now reposing in a box before me. Why? 
Because, Mr. Editor, you have failed to answer 
my letter about these very flies! I see you 
writhe and quiver with humiliation, and well you 
may. I told you of my promise to Mr. Gordon, 
and inquired whether you agreed in your capac¬ 
ity of curator of the new dry-fly entomological 
collection, to let me send these to him for classi¬ 
fication and imitation. And now this reproach 
from the Walton of the Neversink! It is too, 
too much ! However, I wash my hands of you ; 
you may stew in your own editorial juice and 
be darned to you! The least you can do is to 
take post and go up to Sullivan county and 
apologize personally to the Sage. 
And now one for Mr. Gordon. He shall 
not think I assert that "the dry-fly is of no use 
in Nova Scotia.” I relate only my repeated ex¬ 
periences with it. I have not closed the chap¬ 
ter, and perhaps at another season, say in mid¬ 
summer, it may prove successful. 
Mr. Gordon suggests my handling my canoe 
myself when fishing dry-fly. The suggestion 
makes me wonder whether he knows as much 
about canoeing as about the “gentle art of kill¬ 
ing fish.” I have done that over and over again, 
but I prefer a good man to paddle me. “Or 
to have a man who understands what he is try¬ 
ing to do,” quotha! Why, dear Mr. Gordon, 
the “man behind” this spring was no less a per¬ 
son than Charles the Strong, he of the “Tent 
Dwellers,” who is, in my opinion, the best fish¬ 
ing guide in Nova Scotia. This does not mean 
that Charles has dry-fly experience to speak of, 
but he has been out repeatedly with me when 
we have tried it, and he thoroughly understands 
its principles. As for placing a canoe where I 
tell him, and holding it there in any kind or 
condition of water, commend me to Charles 
Charlton. There’s only one thing to be said: 
Mr. Gordon is due at my camp next spring, or 
any other time, so far as that is concerned. 
“Why use an orange leader?” Well, firstly 
because a man named Orr (I think) sent me 
one of that shade that was the nicest looking 
thing of the kind I ever saw on this side the 
