FOREST AND STREAM 
763 
When The Black Bass Bites 
The clear, cold, rock-set little river, in its 
upper course, shoulders its way among the hills, 
oak-covered, that throw it in the shadow for 
the greater part of the day—the shadow that 
keeps the moss moist on the rocks, and calls 
the catbird and tanager to drip their feathers 
with cool spray in the shallows when the sun 
grows hot. 
And in its hurry to the Mississippi, every now 
and then it plunges headfirst into the foot of 
one of the great bluffs that guard it, dark to 
the very top with the green of oak leaves thick¬ 
growing, and then, suddenly stopped in its swift 
career, it burrows and scolds and twists until 
it scoops out a great hole that it fills deep with 
its air-clear waters, and leaves them standing 
serene out of the way of its current. Then, 
only half baffled, it turns aside and hurries on 
in its sun and shadow course, breaking into a 
million ripples over the pebbles below, sometimes 
with the quick-changing green and blue of the 
dewdrop, but mostly just sun-bright. 
Ripples above and ripples below, and the deep, 
dark, still water between; and standing far out 
from it an old rock, that ages ago had thundered 
down the steep hillsides. You can see yet the 
wound, high up, where it was torn away, 
though the hazel bushes and wild honeysuckle 
have grown over and almost cover it. 
The water is glass-clear, but you can’t begin 
to see to the bottom about the old rock. The 
hill shuts off the sun, and it is dark and deep 
down there. Thrust your fish-pole down eight, 
ten, twelve feet, and you barely touch the sandy 
bottom. And there, in the vast, mysterious deep* 
of the pool, is the haunt of the black bass. 
You can see him now and then, a great, dark 
thing, when he darts for some deep down cover, 
like a harpy of the water, or when he stands up 
the bright ripples with quivering fins, only seen 
in the intervals when he turns and flashes the 
sunlight from his great bronze sides. 
Or, as your eye grows more used to the 
depth, the indistinct fragment of a great root 
grows on your sight from far below, the hulk of 
a huge snag; and then, as closer you look, a 
change breaks upon you; something that at first 
looked like loose moss fringe streaming from it 
becomes slow waving fins. It is a change that 
makes the heart beat quick. It is a sight that 
cannot come to one without stirring the spirit 
of capture. 
No earth-worm wriggling on a bare hook will 
do. That is good down under the elm root 
where the bank is sandy, and the bottom is open, 
where the “red-horse” swim slow. Keep your 
bit of tough meat-bait for the bull-heads in the 
dough. Dead bait is good for plebian fish. 
The black bass is a pirate king, a proud free¬ 
booter, and must have his prey alive, by chase. 
On the other side of the river is a cleft in the 
hills, and through it trips one of the thousand 
little icy hill streams that feed the river in its 
upper course. It comes out of a spring in a 
ledge, two hundred feet above, as cold as ice, 
and as bright. It falls down a succession of 
stony steps, moss-dripping, through a gorge so 
By F. C. E. 
narrow that the boughs of the trees on the op¬ 
posite sides meet and mingle, and keep things 
cool and moist and ferny underneath; and just 
before its final plunge, ten feet above the river’s 
edge, it runs into a deep-worn basin in the 
rock, fills it to the brim, then overflows and 
spills on to the lower rocks, and loses itself in the 
larger waters. 
The water in that basin is as cold and clear 
as in a goblet when the ice clinks against the 
glass. Except for the shadow that is always 
there, every pebble could be counted on the bot¬ 
tom. As it is, it deepens into indistinctness. 
There is not the slightest sign of life; but with 
your tiniest hook and finest line of thread let 
your fly brush over the surface—brush it just 
enough to stir the ripples—and in a flash some¬ 
thing has happened to your fly! Something has 
got it, and your hook too. It is the black-backed 
The Water is as Cold and Clear as in a Goblet. 
chub, the gamiest little fish that swims the wa¬ 
ters. 
He is your rightful bait for the black bass. 
A mouth with the snap of a pike, tough as a 
cartilage, slippery, a backbone of spring steel, 
full of boundless energy. He shows all the life- 
giving tonic of the spring water. A challenge 
to the black bass! Fasten him to your best 
hook, through the tough mouth with never a 
nerve in it to hurt, and drop him into the deep 
pool on the lower side of the big rock. 
A kingfisher chatters up the stream, and lights 
on a dead limb above you, a dash of blue against 
the green; a gray squirrel barks on one of the 
oaks; the water rings constant on the pebbles 
below; but there is something else now that 
makes these come dim upon the senses. There 
is no listless drooping of the line when the chub 
strikes the water. There is character in the 
sharp zig-zag of the line as he makes for the 
deeper places. The sharp little twitches reach 
to the reel as the line cuts broken patterns on 
the surface. Now the ziz-zag motion stops for 
a moment, then becomes a straight line toward 
the open water; another pause; a jerk that 
sends every pulse bounding, and then the reel be¬ 
gins to hum like a bee, and the line cuts, like the 
prow of a boat, straight through the water, with 
widening v-shaped ripples streaming behind. And 
that is the supreme moment, plucked from a sea¬ 
son of golden moments—when the black bass 
bites. 
ASSOCIATED YACHT & POWER BOAT 
CLUBS OF AMERICA. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I desire to call your attention to our Speed 
Boat Races to be held this summer in Chicago 
off Grant Park, August ist to 8th, inclusive. We 
expect these to be the greatest speed boat races 
ever held in this country. During this week the 
American Speed Boat Championship for the 
Wrigley Trophy will be held. Through the 
courtesy of the Motor Boat Club of America, 
The International Trials to select the American 
team to go to England to race for the Harms- 
worth Trophy will also be held. In addition to 
thtse races, there will be others for all classes 
and sizes of boats, for which suitable prizes and 
trophies will be awarded. 
The Wrigley Trophy, emblematic of the 
American Speed Boat Championship, is, as you 
know, a $20,000 trophy, standing about ten feet 
in height. In addition to this a silver facsimile 
is given to the winner unconditionally. We 
have many other trophies, such as Commodore 
Blackton’s magnificent trophy, etc. 
We doubt if a more ideal racing course is to 
be found in this country. Our grand stand will 1 
be three-quarters of a mile long, providing seat¬ 
ing accommodations for over fifty thousand 
people and the races can be viewed at all times 
by the spectators. 
Owing to the fact that Grant Park is within 
walking distance of the heart of the city, we ex¬ 
pect more than one million people will witness 
our events during the week. This should give 
a tremendous impetus to the sport of motor 
boat racing. 
Our boat accommodations w.ill be the very 
best. Through the courtesy of the Illinois 
Naval Reserve, we offer their boat house to visit¬ 
ing yachtsmen. It is our intention to furnish 
watchmen and mechanicians and render every 
possible assistance to the visiting yachtsmen. 
Will send entry blanks, etc., on request. 
Yours sincerely, 
Chairman, Regatta Committee, 
Associated Yacht and Power Boat Clubs 
of America. 
BIRD CENSUS OF UNITED STATES TO BE 
TAKEN IN JUNE. 
A census of all the birds of the United States 
is to be taken this summer by the Federal Gov¬ 
ernment. In announcing this fact to-day, the 
Department of Agriculture, which will super¬ 
vise the work, urges the co-operation of all bird 
lovers. The primary object of the census is 
the preservation of this important game. 
The count of the bird population is to begin 
about May 30, and the department hopes to have 
the final results in hand by June 30. 
