146 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. 31, 1914. 
holding his weight to one side, the other to the 
other, and at the same time attend to all the 
varied features demanded in bass maneuver 
Jim’s line fairly bladed th; water by the intensity 
of that fish’s rush. As luck would have it, my fish 
was small in comparison to his, and by careful, 
and painstaking deliberation, at playing him, I 
got him to net and threw him in. 
“Grab the paddle, quick,” uttered Jim, his 
rod bending to the utmost of its metallic capaci¬ 
ty, while the line jerked oft shooting beads of 
water. “Out. Quick!” 
In went the paddle and out went the canoe, 
just as the fish, feeling the piercing steel in his 
jaw, suddenly bore down upon us like an ar¬ 
row from a “fifty-five pound bow.” To see Jim 
retrieving line, would have made the sweetest of 
all known additions to mo\.'ng picture industry. 
Although Jim is phlegmatic by temperament, and 
physical disposition, now ne was a stem-winder, 
working at high pressure. Under the boat shot 
the bass, but Jim with a dexterous swing of the 
rod, and a gracefulness akin to the gods, pivoted 
around on his perilous perch, getting the line 
over the boat, just as the bass, reaching the end 
of the line, shot high and dry at least a foot over 
the water, and shook his capacious head, 
with the distended gills, like a revolutionary 
bull-dog—till the friction beads, and the wire 
hook holder, were set a-tinkling. I give my 
word of honor that I held my breath when i 
saw that fish. That salmo was administrator and 
grandparent of all the basses in the region. Jim 
whirled the ivory handle of his reel like the 
skilled manipulator he is, and for deft work I 
have never seen an equal to that exhilerating 
exhibition. Now, that old bass was not one of 
those fellows easily taken in. Seeing that the 
compelling force was beyond his circumvention, 
he dove down, and sulked, but by steady lifting 
he was brought out of his inertia. He essayed 
a wide circle; the line buzzed; up again; but 
he was tiring. And in the end, after a fight that 
lasted what would seem a half hour, he came 
up, of a sudden, and lay gasping while my ready 
net received him. There we sat viewing ou: 
capture, saying little, while Jim smiled, his lips 
quivering, his voice failing him. 
“Gosh” he finally admitted, with a rueful 
shake of his head, as though unbelieving, “That 
sure was a dandy. I take it all back. I was 
going up North, which I did not tell you, but 
just for that one fight I have just gone through I 
would have sacrificed nine trips. He will run 
about six pounds.” 
And six pounds and a fraction I think it 
was, if I am not mistaken. Anyhow, Jim has 
him stuffed on the panel, with a Hunter hook in 
his mouth, stretched tight, and believe me, any 
time I look at it I am carried back a short dis¬ 
tance into the past, to that eventful morning on 
a certain Minnehaha pond. 
But that was not all to that red-letter morn¬ 
ing. Where there was one there was surely an¬ 
other; and we went after them with all the skill 
and ingenuity we were kin to. But not in that 
neighborhood. Rather we moved away, intend¬ 
ing to come back there later 
“Where the creek comes into the pond, at 
the head there,” suggested Jim, and I needed no 
further dictation, for I could appreciate the sug¬ 
gestiveness for unrivalled opportunities, such a 
place held. The paddles dipped in, and we slid 
airily along to our goal. The waters were wave¬ 
less. No wind in that early morning held sway 
over those environments. The atmosphere was 
brimful of freshness. The birds on shore were 
sending forth their benediction extollings. Ah 
m all, it was a scene, ard a successfulness in 
piscatorial pursuit that set it down on the pages 
of our recollection as the most vivid and ap¬ 
pealing one of a hundred. The fish had now 
practically gotten abroad, and Jim, beginning op¬ 
erations piscatorially, at once caught a fine bass 
at the inlet. Nor was I to be left out of the 
proposition. I made my cast to a place where 
the eddies were marking the surface and allowed 
the frog to sink. The little fellow was alive, 
and kicked lustily, but it was only a few mo¬ 
ments after that that I felt the omnious pull on 
the line that heralds a capture. I set the hook 
with a deft lift of the rod tip, witn the thumb 
Warren Smith and a Big Rainbow. 
him on the spooled line. Almost at that identi¬ 
cal moment a bass broke water under the insis¬ 
tent demand, and I knew that I had a beautiful 
fish in every sense of the word. Immediately 
we backed out into the pond, and I was playing 
my first big bass of the season. And he was a 
dandy, and a fighter every inch of his frame. 
For this is noted: the waters were still cold and 
fresh, and held that life-giving energy that 
stamps those fish par excellence, that are found 
in cold waters. When midsummer, or July, 
comes around, and the waters of the lakes be¬ 
come high in temperature then fish have no 
where near as much fight in them as in the early 
part of the season. And tnis fish gave me a true 
blue battle. He tried all rhe tactics known to 
bassdom. but in the end I was a victor, and he 
lay gasping in the bottom of the craft. It was 
then that we noted a singular thing. Had the 
fish held cut a few moments longer—had he 
made one jerk more, I would have lost him, for 
but a shred of the jaw kept him one the hook. 
We had the most pleasurable and successful 
time of our lives that day. And best of it all 
was the fact that we made friends with one of 
the farmers that held the shore line. He was 
singularly interested in bait casting, which he 
witnessed for the first time under the practiced 
hand of Jimmy and gladiy allowed us to come 
whenever we cared to. That is the reason, 1 
may add that every year, once in a while finds 
both Jim and me on the old mill-pond, trying 
out our tackle, and experimenting with the very 
best in representative artificial minnow produc¬ 
tion. 
Jim has jumped around for his fishing, in 
many odd nooks and corners, but he has oniy 
to look at a certain savage-featured, broad- 
backed, big-mouthed, black bass, on a certain 
very conspicuous and varnished panel to have 
to allow that he caught same, not in far 
away Canada, but close at home, in the most 
seemingly uninviting of surroundings. The Min¬ 
nehaha Creek, of course, it is known, finds its 
birth in the famous Minnetoukas, those lakes hav¬ 
ing something in mileage of shoreline that is a 
big figure indeed. In the spring when the waters 
are let out of the lakes the creek is brimful, in 
well-balanced years, and then fish in unblushing 
numbers come down, crappies, bass, pickerel, 
pumpkin seeds, suckers and perch. With spear 
and hook many a fish life is sacrificed. 
Bears and Steel Traps 
The letter on this subject from Mr. Allan 
Brooks displeases me, for it confuses issues. 
The whole thing is a compromise, like every¬ 
thing else in this vale of tears. One cannot 
help having sympathy with the woodsman who 
makes a few dollars for fc:s family by trapping 
bears, and certainly, the law allowing it, on; 
cannot possibly blame him; but deadfalls 
properly put up and baited, are less clumsy 
and ineffective than Mr. Brooks thinks, the 
trouble being that trappers nowadays take the 
path of the least resistance and prefer to use 
the easier trap, and not take the trouble to be 
a good woodsman who can kill with the dead¬ 
fall. Of course we kick mostly against the 
“sportsman” who traps bears on the side, foi 
pleasure or to get a pelt for his floor. We 
believe, however, that the trappers can get bear 
by using deadfalls and by shooting on occasion. 
Even if all trapping were made illegal the trap¬ 
pers would find other occupations. The fact 
that certain people are put out of business by 
the suppressing of an abuse is no argument for 
its continuance. Again: Rules of ethics are not 
ironclad. It is quite justifiable to kill deer if they 
destroy your crops. If people in certain districts 
find it absolutely necessary to use steel traps to 
save their hogs, and they are really humane per¬ 
sons, it might not be so awful if they used them, 
so long as the law allows. But I am confident that 
they have not tried deadfalls conscientiously, or 
“laid for” the bears with meat, to shoot them, 
etc. They find the steel trap easier to use, that’s 
all. 
Mr. Brooks believes that bears suffer less 
than we think when they get their paws torn 
off and other such trifles. Possibly, but what 
does it prove—that they don’t suffer? I beg to 
differ radically. He says animals are blood¬ 
thirsty. How reprehensible! But only man is 
cruel, for only he knows when he is inflicting 
unnecessary suffering. 
In conclusion Mr. Brooks says: “While I de¬ 
plore the barbarity of the steel trap . . ” Aha! 
Quite enough, gentlemen of the jury! The prose¬ 
cution rests! EDWARD BRECK. 
Boston, Jan. 16, 1914. 
