FOREST AND STREAM 
An Afternoon’s Fishing in Maine 
By Meade Wilson. 
278 
tered along the river varying in length from half 
to three-quarters of a mile and perhaps a hundred 
yards wide, and in these pools the fish congregate 
waiting for the water to rise sufficiently to allow 
them to go up the river to the spawning ground. 
Last summer I camped for a few weeks with 
my family near a pool known as the Greig Pool, 
and had some fine fishing. One morning early in 
August with my two grandchildren, two and 
four years old, I was trolling in the pool in a 
large flat-bottomed skiff. I had no idea that any 
salmon had yet come in, and I was using a light 
trout pole and line with a No. 2 Wilson spinner. 
The pool was full of steelhead jumping ail 
around us, and a number of boats were fishing, 
some with fly and some with spinner. I had been 
up and down the pool many times without a 
strike, and the children were beginning to get im¬ 
patient, seeing the other boats all catching fish, 
and were teasing me to catch them a fish: “If 
you don't want a big one, grandpa, just catch us 
a little one.” All at once I had a strike that 
nearly took my rod and line over the side; I just 
caught it as it was going. The children promptly 
went crazy and began to dance up and down in 
the boat, and I had to drop the oars to get them 
in their seats before they fell overboard, and, of 
course, one oar promptly slid through the row- 
lock and out of reach in the water. There I was 
in the middle of the pool, with a big boat, a big 
salmon, two crazy kids and one oar. My rigging 
was so light that I did not dare let the fish pull 
to amount to anything, but had to keep the line 
tight while I endeavored to scull the boat ashore 
sideways, with the oar that was left. I managed 
finally to get into shallow water and get the chil¬ 
dren ashore, and then had leisure to turn my at¬ 
tention to my fish. 
It took nearly an hour of careful handling on 
my part to get him tired sufficiently so that I 
could slide him into shallow water. In some of 
his rushes up and down and across the pool he 
took out within a few feet of all my line, and 
my heart was right up in my throat. 
But all is well that ends well, and when I had 
him in shallow water I waded in, and, putting 
my fingers in his gills, brought him out on the 
bank. He weighed forty-six pounds, and was the 
largest one I caught this last season. I enclose a 
photograph of the fish and the children, so that 
you can form some idea of the size of the fish. 
W. K. STRONG. 
Your advertising appeal through the Forest and 
Stream columns will be productive of big present 
profits and bigger future business. 
Among the many picturesque waterways in 
which the state of Maine abounds, one that holds 
a prominent place is the Cobbossee stream, with 
its source in Cobbosseecontee Lake, a magnifi¬ 
cent sheet of water nine miles long and two 
wide, the largest lake in Kennebec county. 
Though the stream is the direct outlet of the 
lake, it really receives the waters of the entire 
lake system of the county, comprising twenty 
lakes of various sizes, as it winds its serpentine 
course of about twenty miles down to Gardiner, 
where it empties into the historic Kennebec river. 
On this stream, and on any of these lakes, one 
will find good boating facilities, and the salmon, 
black bass, lake trout, pickerel, white perch and 
horn pouch fishing will afford rare sport to any¬ 
one that is so inclined. 
The Lewiston, Augusta and Waterville Elec¬ 
tric Railroad crosses the stream about eight 
miles west of Gardiner, making the fishing easily 
accessible. In the summer of 1912 I was living 
in Gardiner, a pretty manufacturing city over¬ 
looking the Kennebec, and about the 10th of July 
I planned a fishing trip with L. F. Dunn, one of 
Maine’s noted anglers, to try out Cobbossee 
stream. Experience had Jaught us to collect an 
assortment of bait, and I spent some time in 
chasing and tumbling over likely spots trying to 
catch grasshoppers, crickets and frogs, while 
Dunn caught live bait, and after making an in¬ 
ventory of our stock of fish food we started for 
the stream. 
When we pushed off from the landing where 
Dunn kept his boat, the afternoon sun was get¬ 
ting in some good work. It was so hot that 
Dunn refrained from spinning one of his fish 
yarns. We noticed an aged looking crow seeking 
shelter under some birch bushes along the bank, 
with his wings slightly elevated from his body 
and his beak open, seeming to be either gasping 
for breath or thinking of “Dante’s Inferno.” 
Rowing up stream a short distance we cast an¬ 
chor, and, baiting our hooks with lively frogs, 
we cast out. Something happened quickly—a 
strike!—with Dunn’s reel buzzing a merry tune, 
and the line swishing through the water one way 
and then another. As it made a quick dart away 
from the boat we saw a fine black bass jump 
clear out of the water, throwing and wriggling 
itself into a semi-circle, then plunge deep into the 
water again. Imagine our disappointment to 
lose the fish. About this time the writer got a 
Strike, and with Dunn’s coaching played a game 
fish for some time, again resulting in a loss. 
After this we could not even get a nibble with 
frogs, so we tried live bait. Directly I heard 
Dunn’s reel humming again. What sport it was 
to watch the battle between the shrewd, scienced 
angler, versed in all the clever tricks and skill 
of fishing, and the wily cunning and strategy of 
the gamy fish. With the line cutting the water 
in circles and semi-circles, the fish made a bold 
leap, seeming to challenge us to lay hands on 
him, finally giving up the vain struggle to be 
reeled in. Then we realized that we had a black 
bass that measured twenty inches and weighed 
four pounds. 
That afternoon is cherished as one of the 
bright spots of my life. When the glimmering 
landscape was fading to our eyes we “rang off” 
and started home. A bald eagle made a hurried 
flight aloft for its far-away nest. A solemn still¬ 
ness seemed to hold the air, and we heard the 
tinkling of a distant cow-bell from over the for¬ 
est-mantled hills. The western sky was painted 
a delicate amethystine color, then the great out¬ 
doors shared in the transfiguration of the after¬ 
glow. And when we bade adieu, we knew that 
when the finny school-roll was called again there 
would be six bass and five pickerel absent. 
“SIR TROUT AND HIS ALLEGED GOITRE.” 
New Medical Laboratories, 
University of Pennsylvania, 
Philadelphia, Feb. 19, 1914. 
Editor Forest and Stream : 
Permit me, in connection with the communi¬ 
cation in your last number headed “Sir Trout 
and His Alleged Goitre,” to call attention to an 
article by Marine, published in the January num¬ 
ber of the Journal of Experimental Medicine, 
upon this subject. As the result of the experi¬ 
mental investigations of Dr. Marine it now seems 
clear: 
That the so-called cancer of the thyroid in 
trout is not a cancer. 
That it is not due to a parasite, and is not 
contagious. 
That it is the result of an abnormal diet. 
That trout fed on fish instead of liver do not 
develop the disease. 
That trout already afflicted with the disease re¬ 
cover when taken from a diet of liver and placed 
on a diet of fish. 
These statements being true, those of us who 
delight in handling trout in landing nets and with 
table forks may breath freely again. 
Very truly yours, 
ALONZO ENGLEBERT TAYLOR. 
WHAT IS A DRIFT FENCE? 
The drift fences are not enclosures but gener¬ 
ally extend for long distances across the coun¬ 
try, much like the “drift fences,” or snow fences 
along railroad rights of way. The railroad fences, 
however, take their name from the fact that they 
serve to pile the wind-blown snow to the wind¬ 
ward side of the track, so it will not settle in the 
cuts and impede traffic. The drift fences for 
stock keep the animals from going in certain 
directions, or “drifting,” to use a cattleman’s ex¬ 
pression, or restrict them to specified areas for 
the winter and to others for the summer. They 
may also prevent stock from grazing upon areas 
where poisonous plants are found; thus they les¬ 
sen the cost of herding and prevent losses. 
FEDERAL LAW COMES FIRST. 
The Federal law must be obeyed by hunters, 
regardless of any state hunting licenses they may 
hold, according to W. A. Groneweg, deputy game 
warden for Iowa and deputy United States mar¬ 
shal. In case of conflict between National and 
state laws, he stated recently, first place must al¬ 
ways be given to the National regulations. 
Asbury Park, N. J., Feb. 7, 1914. 
Editor Forest and Stream: Say, here are 
twenty cents, for which kindly send me copies 
of Forest and Stream, February 7th issue. The 
cover is so splendid I would like to send them 
to firends of mine—one in Worcester, Mass., 
and the other in Providence, R. I. 
When I was a lad wild pigeons were so plenti¬ 
ful up around my home in Connecticut that any¬ 
one could get all he wanted at any time during 
their flights. Many a time did I bring home a 
bag full and thought almost nothing of doing 
so, but haven’t seen one for nearly sixty years. 
I was forty-eight when I commenced taking 
Forest and Stream and have taken it for twenty- 
five years, and it grows each year better and 
"betterer.” A. L. LYON. 
