Feb. 8, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
175 
at daybreak the next morning. The cook and I 
rustled around and purchased the camp sup¬ 
plies. Seeing all my baggage stored away in the 
good boat Pelican, with a light heart and a 
great deal of enthusiasm, I began to take in the 
little town of St. Petersburg and its surround¬ 
ings. I found much to interest me. It was all 
absolutely new to me. 
There was a railroad dock out from shore 
to deep water in length about one mile. Out on 
this I went. About half way I came to the popu¬ 
lation of the city. I had been wondering where 
they were. Mackerel were biting, and when this 
is the case, the people stampede to the dock, for 
mackerel bring eight cents a pound, and you get 
your money just as fast as you can unhook your 
fish. Looking down the rock on either side was 
a waving cane thicket of fishing poles going up 
and down all the time. Wriggling mackerel were 
in the air and on the dock. I came near throw¬ 
ing a fit at the sight of all these fish. I did not 
sleep much that night. I was too excited and 
too full of e.xpectations for the next day. 
We sailed the next morning on time. The 
sun was just peeping above the glass-like water, 
and the opal tints shading into gold were more 
beautiful than I can describe. The dawn breeze 
was just beginning to ripple the water as we 
got into the channel. It was the 15th of April. 
I shall never forget that day, for it was the 
most enjoyable of my life. Everything was 
entirely new, and all was built for the cravings 
of my heart. The water seemed alive with fish 
from the size of a pin point up, and the air was 
filled with bird life. It was paradise to me. 
Pelicans and gulls were busy gathering sardines 
that hung in large schools about the protecting 
dock. In places it looked as if one could walk 
upon the thick shoals of these little fish. All 
about our boat the pelicans were diving for their 
prey. These silly birds were amusing. They 
would fly to a height of forty or fifty feet, turn 
their beaks downward, and seem to fall to the 
water, striking with a great splash. They rarely 
missed their mark. After catching a sardine 
they would sit upon the water for a time look¬ 
ing foolish. A close observer would notice, 
when their beaks came up from the dive, they 
held their prey crossways in the bill. To swallow 
the fish or place it in their enormous pouches 
they must'get it started down the throat head 
foremost. To do this they pitch the fish up into 
the air and catch it just right. Often gulls are 
watching, and when the pelican comes up and 
sits on the water with his fish preparatory to 
making his toss, the gull on the wing slides his 
bill along that of the pelican and steals his hard- 
earned finny food. The pelican looks from side 
to side and makes no complaint, but goes for 
another dive and probably lets the same thing 
happen to him again. 
We rounded out into the bay and started 
for our destination, crossing the head of the, 
dock and going due south. When we were well 
out. a huge fish broke the water near the boat. 
‘What’s that!” I cried. 
“Only a porpoise,” was the answer. During 
the day we saw many of these, and being 
equipped with a rifle and shotgun I tried many 
shots, but without effect so far as the rifle was 
concerned, but with the shotgun I managed to 
pepper one. It is said they are the fastest fish 
that swim. I believe it, for when the shot stung 
the one I hit, we did not see him again for 
about two minutes, and then he broke water al¬ 
most out of sight and seemed to be going strong. 
The boatman and cook vied with each other 
in imparting information about the birds and fish 
we saw. I was like a small boy, and no doubt 
asked many foolish questions, as was attested by 
their sly winks and grins, but oh! how I did en¬ 
joy that day. 
As we sailed among the different keys, each 
was pointed out and its name given. The Cow 
and Calf interested me very much. They were 
two small keys somewhat resembling at a dis¬ 
tance the animals from whence they derive their 
names. Then there was Bird Key, on which we 
stopped, that I might see the multitudes of the 
feathered tribe making their homes on this spot. 
At that time the island furnished many eggs for 
the nearby inhabitants, but now the United States 
Government has it set aside for the sole use of 
the birds. 
We crossed Boca Caega Bay, a most beauti¬ 
ful body of water, and landed at Pass-a-Grille 
about 4 o’clock that afternoon. 
Leaving the boatman and the cook to un¬ 
load the baggage, and do all else to make us 
comfortable in the cottage, I dived for my fish¬ 
ing tackle and was in my coveted goal. I soon 
learned, however, that there were thorns or teeth 
in Paradise, as the first fish I caught was a 
mackerel, and in my haste and excitement to 
take the hook from his mouth, I managed to get 
my thumb and forefinger between his jaws. He 
came up hard, and his sharp teeth sank into my 
flesh. Oh I how it did hurt. My boatman came 
to my rescue and showed me how to handle a 
mackerel. Placing his left hand just below the 
gills, he pressed hard and the mouth of the fish 
flew open, thus releasing my paining digits. He 
then extracted the hook and I paid my compli¬ 
ments to the flsh in language not suitable for a 
Sunday school. 
I had much to learn, but was an apt pupil, 
and was soon on to the game. Mackerel fishing 
is a dirty job. They are covered with a slimy 
paste that sticks to everything it touches. They 
wriggle and squirm a great deal, and usually get 
their glutinous mess all over one’s clothes, to 
say nothing of hands and face. I once caught 
143 of these fish between 10 o’clock in the morn¬ 
ing until 5 in the afternoon. I was a sight to 
see when the day was over. I did not use a 
reel in making this catch, but just a straight 
bamboo pole about fifteen feet long with a 
heavy braided line tied to the end of it. When 
mackerel are biting, you are lucky if you are 
not in a crowd. I was in a crowd of one hun¬ 
dred or more one day when the fish were biting 
fast. The majority of those fishing were out 
for the money in the game. I was green at 
mackerel fishing and attempted to use a reel. 
My first catch did some stunts that were very 
embarrassing to yours truly. This fish is ex¬ 
tremely erratic in his movements, and is, I think, 
the most nervous of all fish. When we struck 
and the hook went home, he went twenty feet 
one way and then twenty another, making both 
gyrations in a few seconds. He ran in and 
around all of the other lines and made a tangle 
that took over half an hour to unwind. I had 
delayed the bread winners, and they were rather 
caustic in their remarks. I could not blame 
them, so cut my line, and after doing all I could 
to make amends, sneaked away to give the timid 
a chance to work off their spleen. There were 
many women and children present, and they were 
least considerate. 
After landing my first mackerel I was back 
again for another. The next, however, was a 
bluefish and so on until the day closed. As an 
inland fisherman I had always strung my fish 
and dropped them back into the water to keep 
them alive. True to my practice I did the same 
with m3' salt water catch, but onh' one time. 
After fishing for a couple of hours and having 
about twenty fish on my string, I pulled them 
up to quit. I was much surprised to find only 
the heads left of three of them. A shark had 
the balance. 
I caught many different kinds during the 
next day and had a delightful time. On the third 
day I was a little tired of taking them in so 
fast, and began to cast about for something 
more exciting. I was playing a two-pound 
mackerel when a cloud cast a shadow on the 
water. Then I saw a very large fish nervously 
swimming and darting about my captive as if 
he wanted him for dinner. Wishing to try 
something heavy that would test my tackle and 
skill, I let the mackerel tire himself out. I had 
my right hand clasping the reel handle and both 
thumbs on the leather thumb stall or break, and 
the butt of the pole fi.xed in my stomach. I do 
not know why my muscles were so rigid and 
tense, but they were when the big fish struck. 
He was a cyclone. To describe his actions, sup¬ 
pose you tie a rope around the neck of a 200- 
pound hog. Tie the other end of that rope to 
a flexible fishing pole and put the butt end of 
that pole against your stomach, then have that 
hog dart suddenly between your legs. This is 
what happened to me. The butt of that pole 
seemed to go clear through and strike the back¬ 
bone. 
[to be continued.] 
Among magazines for the outdoor lover. 
Forest and Stream looms up particularly 
large. 
J. S. P. IT. WILSON, 
Maine State Commissioner of Inland Fisheries and Game. 
