Jan. 17, 1914 - 
FOREST AND STREAM 
71 
“Now That Reminds Me” 
By O. W. SMITH 
N OW, that reminds me of some fishing I 
once did in a thunderstorm. I, in com¬ 
mon with most trout fishermen, had 
always heard that trout would not bite when 
thunder shook the earth, the theory being that 
the reverberations communicated sufficient dis¬ 
turbance to the water to frighten the fish very 
much as an unwary footfall will do in midsum¬ 
mer when the streams are low. However as some 
of you know, I am by nature an agnostic, some 
churchy people say an unbeliever, though the 
truth of the matter is I simply act upon the ad¬ 
monition of Paul, “Prove all things, hold fast 
that which is good,” a bit of theological wisdom 
which is as applicable to matters piscatorial as 
matters theological. Let us hope that this atti¬ 
tude may not have the disastrous results with 
my brethren of the angle that it has had with 
some other brethren I could mention. How¬ 
ever, that is neither here nor there, so let us 
to our story. 
I was camped, one July some years ago, on 
the Pine River, a river that has often been re¬ 
ferred to in these “Now, That Reminds Me” 
yarns, proving how popular it is in the Middle 
West. The stream was low as is often the case 
in mid-summer, and consequently I had enjoyed 
but indifferent fishing, though I had secured 
enough trout to keep the camp-spider busy. For 
some days the weather had been intensely hot, 
with that peculiar deadening quality always sug¬ 
gestive of electrical disturbances, and each night 
we said, “It will break with thunder before 
morning.” At last the storm came, between 
two and three in the morning it broke, and such 
thunder and lightning I hope I may never again 
experience when under canvas. The discharges 
of electricity were continuous, while the thunder 
fairly shook the earth. When daylight came 
there was no cessation of the storm, though the 
lightning did not seem so near, so I donned a 
heavy raincoat over my night clothes, incased 
my nether limbs in hip boots, and fared forth. 
Bad as the storm had seemed before, in the 
gray light of the early morning when buffeted 
by its elemental forces, it seemed worse now. 
For a moment I was minded to return to the 
tent, and the shelter of my warm sleeping bag, 
then the desire to know whether or not trout 
would rise in the midst of such a disturbance 
overcame my not unnatural timidity, and I con¬ 
tinued on my way, cringing once in a while in 
spite of myself when some more than ordinary 
crash of thunder would almost make the trees 
rock, I know that the ground trembled, “If 
trout bite now,” said I to myself, “they are not 
the timid creatures I have always believed them 
to be.” 
As we were camped near the “Old Pine” at the 
head of the “Dane’s Meadow” I selected the pool 
just below the little hay-bridge which every angler 
remembers. There is a short rapid, near this 
point. In other streams it would be counted 
“mere rips,” but rapids are few on the Pine. 
Of course I paid little heed to my foot-falls for 
in the midst of all that disturbance it was im¬ 
possible for me to make any noise. I stood for 
a moment looking out over the surface of the 
erstwhile quiet pool, so changed was its aspect. 
Little watery stalagmites ruffled its surface, con¬ 
stantly changing form but always up-reaching. 
Seemingly there was little rhyme and less reason 
in sending a bunch of feathers out on that agi¬ 
tated water. However I fastened on a Scarlet 
Ibis, for there was no known precedent to gov¬ 
ern me, and cast it right to the center of the pool. 
I thought there was a response, but the light was 
so dim and the water so agitated, that I could 
not be sure. I fished the pool faithfully, middle 
and margin, and while I thought I caught the 
gleam of turning tail two or three times I could 
not be sure; I only knew I hooked no fish. 
Feeling that I was entirely too late for the 
feathers, I removed my fly and replaced it with 
a hook baited with an angle worm. Again I 
cast, well toward the head of the pool, allowing 
the current to carry the “kicking” worm down 
into the deeper portion. Instantly there was a 
response, a dull, heavy jerking which indicated 
an unusually large fish. There was little need 
to set the hook, but from long habit I gave the 
butt, and the battle was on. The fish fought 
doggedly, but without that dash and eclat which 
makes trout-fishing so fascinating, so that he 
gave up before I thought the battle begun. Then 
I led him up to the shore, and thanks to the 
habit I have of purchasing the best of lines and 
hooks, lifted him safely from the water by main 
strength and awkwardness. 
Again I baited up and shortly was fast in 
another good fish, proving conclusively that trout 
will take worms in the midst of a thunder-storm 
whether or not they will rise to flies. A third 
fish also found its way into my basket. The 
three taken were good ones, large for the Pine, 
and all gorged with worms. We all know how 
trout feed when the streams are on a rise, and 
that was the way they fed that morning in spite 
of the heavy thunder. Once or twice I changed 
back to flies, using different patterns without 
result; the fish would not take the fuzzy-wuzzy 
lures though I visited several pools. But when¬ 
ever I would resort to worms I would find them 
ready to feed. I might have filled my basket 
that morning had not Jove caught sight of me, 
but he let fly a thunder-bolt which shivered a 
stub not ten rods from where I was standing, 
some of the slivers almost striking me where 
I stood. While I thanked the grim god for split¬ 
ting my kindling, I think you will understand 
me when I say I returned to the tent forthwith. 
I had proven that trout would take bait at least 
in the midst of a thunder storm. 
Nearly every summer since then I have car¬ 
ried on my investigations, under differing con¬ 
ditions and on various streams. Always I have 
found trout ready to take bait, worms, grass¬ 
hoppers and even flesh of chubs; but only once 
have I succeeded in getting them to rise to fly, 
then on a little stream and at the very beginning 
of a thunder-storm before the water felt the in¬ 
fluence of the flood. Whether or not it is the 
darkening of the water that drives them to the 
bottom, or the numerous angle-worms which 
come down in the wash, or fear of the thunder, 
I am unable to say, I leave you to judge. 
If you want a unique experience when next 
you are trout fishing and a thunder-storm arises 
do not seek the shelter of some hospitable farm¬ 
house, but stay with the game; you will be sur¬ 
prised to find that you have entered a new world, 
and are angling for a new fish. 
Bangor, Me.— Maine’s big game season has 
ended. The estimated number of deer killed was 
10,000. Seventeen persons were killed in the 
woods. 
The bureau of entomology and the forest 
service, working together for the control of for¬ 
est insects, last year covered more than 160,000 
acres in their operations. 
Little Known California Animals 
By GOLDEN GATE 
ti JL NIMALS Little Known in California” 
was the subject of an illustiated lecture 
recently delivered by Walter P. Taylor, 
curator of the museum of vertebrate zoology at 
the University of California, before the large 
audience at the Washington School in Oakland, 
the lecture being given under the auspices of the 
Board of Education. Mr. Taylor told of many 
animals now but rarely seen and many of these 
were entirely new to the rank and file of his 
audience. The following are excerpts from his 
talk: 
“The fisher, a small tree-climbing animal, is 
the most agile wild animal in California. It takes 
two men to shoot one, because the fisher is always 
on the opposite side of the tree from a single 
marksman. A marten can catch a squirrel, but 
a fisher can catch a marten. It is one of two> 
animals which likes and eats porcupines. The 
other is the bear. 
“The black bear, by the way, is nearly extinct 
in California. It is entirely gone from southern 
California. Twenty years ago the grizzly bear 
ranged all over California. Today the museum 
has been unable to find a single wild specimen. 
“Another nearly extinct animal is the sea 
otter. Its nearest relative is the river otter, which 
never goes into the ocean. In 1800 the sea otter 
was most numerous. Now it is nearly extermi¬ 
nated. Its skin, if good, is worth $2,000. The 
few left are protected. 
“Another strange marine animal is the sea 
elephant. It has nearly disappeared, showing that 
wild beasts or birds can live against carefully 
regulated sport, but when they go into the mar¬ 
kets, they begin soon to be rarer and rarer. 
“A remarkably big animal, now making its 
last stand, is the Roosevelt elk, found only in 
Del Norte county. In 1825 it ranged from Del 
Norte to San Francisco and was quite plentiful. 
“The California woodchuck has been traced 
by the museum to Mount Whitney, the highest 
altitude at which evidence has been found of any 
wild animal. 
“A curious creature is the mountain beaver. 
It has changed little in the one million years that 
the horse has developed from a small, three-toed 
animal. This beaver is related to no other living 
animal in any close sense. It is itself fast on 
the way to extinction. The coney has a similar 
history. It lives in almost inaccessible heights 
of the Sierras and collects herbage, which it dries 
for winter food. It, too, has been outdistanced 
in the evolutionary course, being crowded to the 
high mountain tops. 
“The big horned sheep of the desert is like¬ 
wise a strange beast. It feeds on dry twigs, and 
does not need water. If a spring is handy, it 
drinks. If not convenient, it gets along on three 
drinks a month. It can go on without drinking 
water at all. An expedition from the museum 
discovered an entirely new species of sheep on the 
eastern Sierras some time ago. 
“The prong-horned antelope supplied the 
cheapest meat to San Francisco in 1857. Now it 
is nearly gone. 
“The skunk is supposed to be harmful, but 
Government figures show it is a valuable animal 
to the farmer as well as to the furrier. 
“The bat also does great good in devouring 
insects. The mastiff bat, found south of Fresno, 
is four to six inches long.” 
The speaker also dwelt at some length on the 
kangaroo rat, which builds its nests of sticks, 
stones, bones, seed pods, or whatever else may be 
found, calling attention to the fact that one of 
the distinctive features of the animal was the 
fact that it never drinks water, its sole food being 
dry weed seeds. 
