FOREST AND STREAM 
649 
Channel Catfishing 
By R. N. McNair. 
T HE habitat of the largest catfish that I have 
ever seen is the muddy water of the Mis¬ 
sissippi river, where they are called by the 
natives “Mudcats,” and are doubtless overgrowths 
of what are commonly called “bullheads” in this 
section, as their color and anatomy seems to be 
the same, in different proportions. The Mis¬ 
sissippi river fish grow to an enormous size. I 
will not mention dimentions for fear of being 
called a prevaricator trying to tell a big fish 
story, but I have known a fish peddler who did 
a thriving business carting catfish to a country 
town ten miles from the river and selling them 
whole and in sections. They are very palatable 
when well cooked. 
The channel cat belongs to the same specie, 
only they are more toney fish, both in appear¬ 
ance and for the table, and are found more in 
the small tributary streams to the Mississippi 
river. Very graceful of shape and motion. They 
have a wide forked tail and are colored blue 
except the white belly, and are sometimes called 
blue cat. The mouth is wide, like that of the 
mudcat, and they have the same long feelers 
running out from either side of the mouth. 
While they do not seem to grow as large as 
the other variety, very heavy ones are caught in 
the little Homochitto and other streams of the 
Mississippi Valley. 
The last time that I remember having seen 
and enjoyed the taste, was in 1907 while on 
a wild turkey hunt on the Homochitto river. 
While we were paddling down the stream one 
evening with the guide and warden of the club 
lodge at which I was a guest, the market fisher¬ 
men were running their lines, which were 
stretched across the stream. As I was interested 
in watching the catching we stopped as spectators. 
Two men in a large rowboat visited each line 
in turn, and I was surprised to see them pull 
up in some places three or four nice large channel 
cat from one line and they were taking them 
aboard in pretty rapid order. The guide asked 
if I would like to try some for supper, and with 
an appetite well known to those who have 
tramped hard on a hunt, I gladly agreed that 
the prospect would be most pleasing. 
The guide selected a half-dozen fish from the 
skiff measuring about twelve to sixteen inches, 
his wife was an excellent cook, and I do not 
recall having eaten better fish at any shore din¬ 
ner or hotel than I had for supper that night. 
The fish was firm, yet very tender and of at¬ 
tractive flavor. I remember having remarked at 
the time that it pleased my sense of taste quite 
as well as the much prized trout and blue fish. 
Bill, the genial guide—and he was a most effi¬ 
cient man for looking to the entertainment of 
guests who came under his care—asked if I 
would like to try my luck at fishing for the 
pretty channel cat. I’m not much of a fish¬ 
erman in that it requires too much patient 
waiting for too small prospective returns. But by 
way of having another diversion, I sallied forth 
to the spot selected by my guide for hooking 
channel cat. And, Neighbor , it was not a half- 
bad day for trying conclusions with very game 
fish. The dogwood blossoms were beginning to 
bloom in the swamp, were spring vegetation -is 
usually very forward, the birds were sing¬ 
ing in sweet choruses of the coming season, and 
even the bees could be heard humming where 
they found the wild flowers. I might say that 
it was just the kind of day when a fellow who 
had hunted wild turkey hard the previous day, 
and hadn’t gotten rid of the lassitude incident 
to overstrained muscles, would enjoy sitting on 
a log waiting for “a rise.” 
The wait was not long. The guide sat in the 
canoe just below where my line was thrown into 
the water. The fish must have been hungry 
that day, for in less than five minutes after drop¬ 
ping in the bait I felt a vigorous tug on the line. 
The cork shot under the water, and I felt that 
there was “somethin’ doin’.” From the pull I 
imagined that I had hooked an alligator—for there 
were many in the swamps—but as the well sea¬ 
soned fishing rod bent almost double and the 
line began to whiz through the water I found 
that I had something much faster than a “gator.” 
The strong line made many pretty patterns on 
the surface of the stream, and while I was not 
an expert at landing a good fighting trout, I 
found that I could hold on pretty well to a 
vigorous channel cat. The guide seemed to enjoy 
the performance hugely, and remarked from 
time to time that I was a real fisherman. I did 
not think so, but to humor his entertainment I 
let him think that I was. 
Finally, when the lively duffer became fagged 
by his wild racing, I hauled in on him, and pulled 
cmt a very pretty fish of about eighteen or twenty 
inches. I caught several of smaller size, and 
toward noon, when the sun was getting in his 
good work, a spell of that old southern enervation 
stole upon me, and I did not seem to care a 
rap whether there was a bite or not. To try 
and fight off the lethargy I filled my old pipe 
and tried tobacco. But as the after effect is sooth¬ 
ing I became decidedly sleepy, and looked at the 
leaf covered ground with more favor than the 
log upon which I sat. 
I heard a gentleman say, not long since, in 
comparing the spring atmosphere of the north 
with that of the south, that when the 
the hustling New Englanders go South they 
rush around and make things hum for a 
time, but when that soothing lassitude comes 
over them they begin to yawn out loud, 
stretch their arms, and wonder why the southern 
planter says “dam” when speaking of the lazy 
negroes while the crops are being planted. For 
they will sit on a plow beam and let the flies and 
bumble bees buzz all around them if the boss 
is far enough away to allow them to snooze. 
The first thing I knew or did not know, I was 
copying the negroes and nodding on the old log. 
Suddenly I was aroused from a half-dream by 
the guide shouting “look out—pull on your line.” 
I said “What?” and rubbed my eyes, when to 
my surprise and shame I looked down into the 
water to see my line, rod and all floating down 
stream, and Bill chasing it in the canoe. He 
laughed immoderately, but declared that a big fish 
was on the hook. Finally he got hold of the 
rod, and after much manoeuvring with boat and 
fish he hauled aboard a fine specimen, fully two 
feet long. 
By then I was thoroughly awake, and pulling 
myself together I fished vigorously and scien¬ 
tifically for another hour. The fish were very 
game and sporty, and I must say that I enjoyed 
the experience immensely. When it was time to 
climb the steep hill to luncheon we had ten or 
a dozen as nice fish as I ever cared to angle for. 
In the abstract, fishing always seemed to me 
an entertainment for lazy men; just baiting hooks 
and waiting. But when one gets into a spot 
where the fish are gamey, hungry and willing to 
fight for a minnow or a worm, fishing to my mind, 
is a very good second to trying conclusions with 
a wiley old gobbler, or following a good dog 
after quail or grouse. 
Every man'to his taste of course, and ’tis a 
wonderful and most generous provision of nature 
that we all don’t like the same kind of amuse¬ 
ment best. For if we did there would not be 
enough to go half-way around. I think that the 
angler who would like to vary the sport of 
whipping trout streams, when perchance the trout 
have been pretty well whipped out, could enjoy 
a fine vacation and a restful snooze thrown in, 
should he wander down to the banks of the wild 
romantic little Homochitto and try his luck at 
fishing for the handsome, palatable channel cat. 
And he would do well to form the acquaintance 
of Bill McMorris, for he knows them all—“de 
broilers, de fryin’ sizers’ and de big fellows whut 
you bakes. 
MINNESOTA PLANTS 1,000,000 TREES. 
Planting of 1,000,000 pine trees, the first re¬ 
forestation work by Minnesota on a large scale, 
was begun recently in Itasca state park, Pills- 
bury forest, near Brainerd, and Burntside forest. 
Most of the trees are white pine. 
W. T. Cox, state forester, said the state has 
done some experimental reforesting in Itasca 
park and Cloquet reserve, which has shown the 
work will be a success. Cutover and burned 
over land will be replanted. The work will be 
done with a $10,000 fund appropriated by the 
legislature. 
BOYS BUILD BIRD HOUSES. 
More than 5,000 boys in the Minneapolis, 
Minn., public schools were given instructions re¬ 
cently in the building of bird houses, as work 
in the regular course of the manual training 
department of the grade schools. Grade school 
boys were in special cases allowed to draft their 
own plans for the bird houses with the result 
that fancy houses with ornamental eaves and 
windows of both the duplex and flat variety 
were built. 
