FOREST AND STREAM 
789 
The Angler’s Substitute For Trap-shooting 
Fun and Practice for Days When You Can’t go Fishing 
By A. E. Swoyer. 
gradually becoming popular in the south is fly 
casting, or a modification of fly-casting, the bait 
being grasshoppers. In the clearer streams and 
lakes (ponds, rather), pick a reddish or orange 
fly or a bright-colored grasshopper. Fly-casting 
is not so successful in the muddier waters. This 
method usually succeeds best during the summer 
months—streams and ponds are low then and 
one can get closer to the fish. Whereas a bass 
will see and come to a live minnow or moving 
artificial bait some distance, the deftly cast fly 
which falls gently, with scarcely a ripple where 
it alights, cannot be depended upon to attract 
fish far. The best practice is with bass, as every¬ 
thing else in the fish line, to let the fly float over 
the fish. Some prefer to fly fish up a stream; 
others down. Personally, I like to fish cross- 
ways for bass, preferably from boat. As a rule, 
the larger bass inhabit the deeper places where 
one cannot wade. Also remember that bass grow 
much larger than trout. Besides deeper water 
they demand larger, gaudier flies, and somewhat 
stouter tackle, though if you are going after 
sport more than fish it is good policy to keep 
tackle light. 
Before closing I should like to mention the his¬ 
torical adjuncts to fishing in’Dixie. During the 
late unpleasantness many of the south’s streams, 
lakes, etc., were scenes of bitter animosity be¬ 
tween Johnny Rebs and Yanks. For those imagi¬ 
natively inclined these memories should prove of 
some interest. Shortly after publication of my 
article on turkeys, John K. Renaud, now of New 
Orleans, wrote me, stating that he well remem¬ 
bered hunting turkeys through my section while 
following “Marse Robert” during the war. 
“Marse Robert,’ of course, is the South’s pet 
name for Gen. Robert E. Lee, who deserves the 
respect of every student of history in America 
for the masterly way he carried on what he must 
have realized all along was a losing fight. 
I have heard stories of hunting and fishing dur¬ 
ing the war from other Confederate veterans— 
all interesting, though the “one touch of pathos” 
which makes the whole human family kin not in¬ 
frequently creeps into the narratives. There is, 
for instance, the old fellow who told me of 
catching catfish in the Rappahannock during the 
night artillery duel which preceded the heavy 
hand-to-hand fighting on the second day of the 
battle of Fredericksburg. I sometimes think 
“skeeters” are “enemy” enough on fishing trips, 
but I can readily see the-difference between a 
few “skeets” and the continued thunder of can¬ 
non and screech of shot and shrapnell overhead. 
I feel sure the imaginative angler can find much 
in the south to entertain besides merely fishing. 
I have, and I am not particularly imaginative, 
either. 
In Virginia are many such historic fishing 
streams, not only Civil war scenes, but those of 
America’s earliest settlements. The Mattponi 
Valley is a section upon which many of the 
war’s critical struggles were staged. The Rich¬ 
mond, Fredericksburg & Potomac Railroad (one 
of the oldest roads in the country, by the way, 
dating to 1831) was a bone of contention all 
through the war. It connected Washington and 
Richmond. Many battles were fought to hold or 
win it. Every old-time house along its borders 
has its “little story all its own.” Now, what of 
the “cold, clear waters of the north?” 
J UST as the growing scarcity of our game 
birds and animals has popularized trap¬ 
shooting, so has the gradual diminuition of 
our supply of even the more common fishes, such 
as bass and pickerel, made necessary the art of 
bait-casting. 
At first glance this statement may seem to be 
erroneous, inasmuch as the introduction of this 
sport had nothing to do with the preservation of 
the fish but was rather adopted as a successful 
method of taking them. It should be remember¬ 
ed, however, that even trap-shooting in its in- 
Trout Hole in Big Horn Country. 
Photograph by W. H. Wyman. 
ception was not expected to prove a sport in it¬ 
self, but merely a means of training the wing- 
shot so that he might become more efficient as a 
game exterminator. Yet, just as the traps unex¬ 
pectedly provided a “Sport Alluring” in them¬ 
selves, so have the short rod and the free run¬ 
ning reel gained thousands of devotees who em¬ 
ploy them for the pleasure that they obtain in 
their use rather than because they are efficient 
fish-getters. As a logical result of this tendency 
special tackle has been developed which is as un¬ 
suited to conditions of actual fishing as the full- 
choked gun of the trapshooter is to work in the 
field. Tournaments, either local, state or nation¬ 
al, are of frequent occurrence, and while neither 
the attendance nor the entry list can be compar¬ 
ed with the Grand American Handicap, they are 
by no means insignificant either in number or in 
quality. It is not illogical, then, to compare bait¬ 
casting and trap-shooting on a common basis as 
kindred sports; the one adapted to the lovers of 
burning powder, and the other suited to the fol¬ 
lowers of the more gentle sport of angling. 
In such a comparison, the first point to be con¬ 
sidered is that of the relative skill required of 
the trap expert and the tournament caster; in this 
the advantage is with the latter. Admitting that 
in the two sports an equal judgment of distance, 
windage and kindred matters is required, it is 
obvious that the direction of a charge of shot 
propelled by an artificial and uniform force is 
simpler than casting a weight at a given target 
by muscular effort hampered by a dragging line, 
the necessity of thumbing the reel and similar 
conditions. In proof of this one need but con¬ 
sider the ease with which an average trap shot 
will break his twenty-five straight and the hun¬ 
dred or more men who each season score high 
runs of one hundred or over without a miss— 
and then by a study of the tournament records 
discover how many men have displayed the 
ability to place three succcessive casts in the 
thirty-inch circle even at but sixty feet. This, 
of course, has to do with accuracy casting only; 
distance work requires, perhaps, less skill—al¬ 
though even such casting is on a par with the 
semi-mechanical efforts of the trapshooter, since 
to project a half-ounce weight for a distance in 
excess of two hundred feet, and keep it within 
the designated bounds, implies well-trained 
muscles thoroughly under control. 
Leaving the matter of relative skill to be 
settled by the exponents of the two pastimes, we 
may take up another point, involving the axiom 
that the popularity and usefulness of a sport de¬ 
pend in large measure upon the ease with which 
it may be followed, and upon the different classes 
of men who may indulge therein. From this 
standpoint the advantage is all in favor of bait¬ 
casting. Trapshooting requires somewhat exten¬ 
sive grounds, properly equipped and at a safe 
distance from the nearest habitation; city ordin¬ 
ances usually prohibit the discharge of fire¬ 
arms within corporate limits, and prudence re¬ 
quires that the sport be indulged in where there 
is no danger of accident or of interruption, while 
scorers and trap boys are more or less necessary 
appurtenances. Accuracy bait-casting, however, 
knows no limits of time or place—any field, large 
lawn or bit of water will serve; while for either 
distance or accuracy work any of these locations, 
if of sufficient size, as well as hall or armory, is 
suitable. Thus the adaptability of the sport 
places its indulgence within reach of the city 
man equally with his angling brother of the com¬ 
paratively unbroken wilds; and, for the reason 
that its pursuit does not entail a time-taking 
journey outside of city limits, its appeal to the 
busy man is obvious. Incidentally, this factor of 
convenience leads to more frequent competitions, 
with a corresponding gain in skill and in healthful 
exercise. As a proof of the accuracy of these 
statements, one need but to consider the popular¬ 
ity of the casting pools in Central Park and in 
similar locations; the tournaments in Madison 
Square Garden, and the hundreds of local con¬ 
tests held by every town boasting an angling 
club. 
Then, too, the comparatively low cost of the 
