446 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Published Weekly by the 
Forest and Stream Publishing Company 
Chas. A. Hazen, President Charles L. Wise, Treasurer 
Harwood Palmer, Viee-Pres. W. G. Beecroft, Secretary 
22 Thames Street, New York. 
CORRESPONDENCE:—Forest and Stream is the re¬ 
cognized medium of entertainment, instruction and in¬ 
formation between American sportsmen. The editors 
invite communications on the subjects to which its pages 
are devoted, but, of course, are not responsible for the 
views of correspondents. Anonymous communications 
cannot be regarded. 
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This paper may be obtained of newsdealers throughout 
the United States, Canada and Great Britain. Foreign 
Subscriptions and Sales Agents—London: Davies & Co., 
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Entered in New York Post Office as Second class matter. 
APRIL DAYS. 
A roaring of wind among the bare branches of 
the elms, gradually dying away to a wistful sigh; 
a song sparrow’s contralto note from the hedge; 
willow twigs, crimson and ochre, swaying in the 
current of the stream that has brimmed over its 
sedgy banks; robins in the orchard, calling for 
rain; a purple mist of ]puds in the low birches 
bordering the country road: April has come! 
The old poets were fond of personifying the 
month as a lusty young fellow, full of the vigor 
and hope and promise of the spring. So wrote 
Chaucer and Spenser, closely followed by 
Shakespeare. 
“Proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, 
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.” 
But we of later date are more wont to con¬ 
ceive of this exquisite month as a girl, brought, 
let us say, by her sturdy father March to the 
Assembly of the Seasons, and left at the door 
by the stern old warrior. Many a timid glance 
the shy young thing casts back at him, and many 
a dance does she lead her lovers: now throwing 
her ermine cloak over her pretty shoulders, now 
pettishly casting it aside in the heat of the ball¬ 
room ; dashing a frightened tear from her blue 
eyes, and then laughing merrily at the discom¬ 
fiture of the youthful swains who have drawn 
near to sympathize. Sweet, wayward, tantalizing 
April—who can help loving her? 
We stroll abroad, those of us who are so for¬ 
tunate as to have a daily glimpse of the country¬ 
side, and note the swelling buds, the flutter of 
wings in the shrubbery, the ripple and glimmer 
of the stream—and this reminds us that the ice 
is out, and the season for the gentlest, the glad¬ 
dest, yet most peaceful of recreations is at hand: 
Fishing! Now is the time for overhauling the 
fly-book, for deciding that last year’s leaders 
might prove unreliable if we should hook an un¬ 
usually lively trout; for indulging, in short, in 
that expensive but delicious luxury, a visit to the 
fishing-tackle store. No matter how many flies 
are already tucked away in our book, we easily 
persuade ourselves that we must have a few 
more; never so alluring as, in their crisp fresh¬ 
ness, displayed in the dealer’s bulky portfolio or 
envelopes. 
The very earliest fishing of the year has a fas¬ 
cination of its own. To tramp the wet fields and 
woods, and find no footprint or broken bough 
proclaiming that another fellow has forestalled 
us; to shiver in the bleak wind, under bare or 
sparsely leaved branches, and feel the first tug 
that proclaims the presence of a real trout! It 
seems too good to be true—that we are once 
more on the old grounds, really fishing! 
Perhaps, too, it is the sense of the unusual 
that adds piquancy to this early sport. Who has 
not felt the attraction of the brook where “no¬ 
body ever heard of a fish being caught”? Of all 
Dr. Van Dyke’s delightful anecdotes the most 
fascinating is the story of that little stream in 
Long Island, where he paddled along its brief 
course without a suspicion of the presence of the 
beauties swimming beneath his keel; a most pro¬ 
saic, well-known brook, crossed by the county 
road and merely loitering through the landscape 
in a casual way, before losing itself in the sea. 
But a boy, a real, tanned, country urchin, “puts 
him on to’ the great secret. Unguessed by the 
heedless passer-by, that insignificant rivulet har¬ 
bors trout, of size and gaminess worth the efforts 
of even the expert fly-caster. And how those 
trout, unspoiled by the attentions of dapper dille- 
tante fishermen, do rise! With the enthusiastic 
Doctor, we gloat over that well-filled creel. 
But ever there remain “fresh woods and pas¬ 
tures new.” There still are places which, it is a 
comfort to reflect, the ever onward march of 
"Progress’ has not invaded; where we may still 
go a-fishing to our hearts’ content, and soothe 
our over-taxed brains and, perchance, under- 
taxed muscles, with the peaceful energies, the 
restful exertions, of our loved pursuit. We may 
still visit that hospitable inn, the great, sheltering 
forest, where, as was written on the wall of a 
Swedish hostelry, “you will find excellent bread, 
meat and wine, provided you bring them with 
you.” 
With the passing of April the call of the wood, 
the camp, the stream, become more and more al¬ 
luring, more and more insistent. Let us obey, 
singing anew the old, old song: 
“O the gallant fisher’s life, 
It is the best of any! 
’Tis full of pleasure, void of strife, 
And ’tis beloved of many. 
Other joys 
Are but toys; 
Only this 
Lawful is; 
For our skill 
Breeds no ill, 
But content and pleasure.” 
YELLOWSTONE PARK FISHING. 
Of the many anglers, who for twenty years 
or more have enjoyed the splendid fishing 
in the Yellowstone National Park, perhaps only 
a few are aware that, of the lakes and streams 
which now afford the best sport, many were once 
absolutely without fish. 
In the year 1889 Capt. F. A. Boutelle was ap¬ 
pointed acting superintendent of the Yellowstone 
National Park and entered on his duties June 1st. 
He was an enthusiastic angler, and had fished 
most of the streams of the west, and when he 
reached the Park one of his first inquiries was as 
to the fishing. About the Mammoth Hot 
Springs he found the streams full of fish, but fur¬ 
ther away, over on Lewis Lake, Shoshone Lake 
and the streams that run into them, there Were 
no fish at all. These were beautiful waters and 
there seemed no reason why they should be bar¬ 
ren, until it was recalled that on Snake River 
there were barriers which prevented fish from 
ascending to the waters of the mountains. 
Capt. Boutelle determined to see if this condi¬ 
tion of barrenness could not be remedied, and 
entered into correspondence with Col. Marshall 
MacDonald, then United States Fish Commis¬ 
sioner. As a result of this correspondence, Col. 
MacDonald visited the Yellowstone Park the fol¬ 
lowing summer, investigated the waters of Lewis 
and Shoshone Lakes and of certain barren 
straems and found that they abounded in fish 
food. Steps were taken forthwith to stock these 
streams, and so effectively that several different 
species of salmonidae were introduced, did re¬ 
markably well, and now abound in upper Snake 
River and Lewis and Shoshone Lakes. An ac¬ 
count of this was given in Forest and Stream 
for July 31st, 1890, and so is recorded history, 
but it is often overlooked and forgotten. 
All anglers who visit the Yellowstone Park 
should, remember that they owe to the enthusiasm 
of Capt. Boutelle a large part of the excellent 
fishing had there to-day. This officer, long re¬ 
tired, still lives in Seattle, Washington, and is as 
enthusiastic an angler as he was forty years ago. 
Nearly twenty-five years ago he performed a ser¬ 
vice for the Yellowstone Park and for the ang¬ 
ling public that should never be forgotten. 
ANTS, MOTHS AND ENGLISH SPARROWS. 
Every morning, as we hear the chirp of the pug¬ 
nacious English sparrow, we are reminded of the 
folly of the misguided agriculturist who, under 
the delusion he had found an insect destroyer 
par excellence, gave the little pest an ocean voy¬ 
age, only to find his sparrowship hated bugs and 
loved golden grain. As we see among the fruit 
trees, the depredation of the gypsy-moth, another 
unfortunate, though accidental importation, we 
greet with gratification the fact that the Depart¬ 
ment of Agricultuie has declared as “undesirable 
aliens,” a troupe of trained ants imported by Mrs. 
C. W. Morse. Thus it is that the trained flea, 
of Arius fame, need not fear competition 
through foreign invasion into the ranks of infini¬ 
tesimal entertainers. 
THE HUSKY’S OCCUPATION GOING. 
A journey very much out of the ordinary is 
reported from Edmonton, Canada, from which 
point five men succeeded in making an 800 mile 
automobile trip to Peace River Crossing on or 
near Lesser Slave Lake, a district usually regard¬ 
ed as sub-arctic, and certainly virgin country so 
far as automobile travel is concerned. A photo¬ 
graph from Edmonton shows the five men fish¬ 
ing in good old Hudson Bay style through the ice 
of Lesser Slave Lake, with the automobile in the 
near distance. Couriers du bois usually engage 
in the latter operation to get fish for themselves 
and their dogs, but the automobile never starves— 
as long as the fuel holds out. The journey prob¬ 
ably was not difficult, for the trail undoubtedly 
had been broken. Still it is rather startling to 
think of an automobile running up almost into 
the wood buffalo and musk ox country, but not 
more indicative of modern progress than the 
rumor that reaches us, of regulations to be laid 
down by the Government relative to the crossing 
of the great Mississippi migratory bird belt by 
areoplanes. 
