July 29, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
171 
over, and there won't be many hunters there to 
disturb them with this norther blowing.” 
\\ e had hardly cleared the breakwater before 
the wind struck the Goosehopper and she 
plowed her 110'se into the whitecaps. 
“All hands shorten sail,” commanded the captain. 
I wanted to obey with alacrity, but could not. 
Something was not resting well on my stomach 
and Doc and the captain were forced to reef 
without my assistance. Reefing was undoubt¬ 
edly safer, although it did not appear to have 
any medicinal qualities and we continued to 
pitch and tear about as much under a pocket 
handkerchief and a bare pole as we had done 
with all sail set, the only result that it accom¬ 
plished as far as I could see was to force my 
stomach to ship its anchor. I do not know how 
long we had been on the water—it seemed an 
eternity — but it was no more than a few minutes 
in reality before Doc began to conclude that it 
was a bad day for ducks and suggested that we 
land at Northwest Creek meadows and see what 
we could scare out of the tall Long Island 
swamp grass. 
A few minutes later the captain turned the 
Goosehopper into the mouth of Northwest 
Creek and we landed. Upon close examination 
the meadows proved to be about one hundred 
acres of marshland, containing from fifty to 
one hundred nice large round muskrat holes to 
the acre. At low tide it was a field of waving 
grass, and each rat hole was a little well half 
full of cold sea water. Being from the tall 
timber country where the deer frolic and the 
black bears roam, we were ignorant of the char¬ 
acter of these so-called meadows until we 
chanced to be maneuvering to get a good shot 
at an approaching flock of curlew, and stepped 
waist deep into a couple of these delightful 
holes, losing our first and only chance to bag 
one of these birds. Soaking wet and besmeared 
with mud from our collar bottoms to our shoe 
tops, we crawled out and continued on down 
the meadow in the biting wind, bagging three 
plover and a jacksnipe and putting up two big 
flocks of yellowlegs before the lunch hour was 
at hand. 
After lunch we went back after the yellowlegs 
and banged into a flock without even dusting 
their feathers so far as we could see. Then we 
strolled on up the creek to see if we could not 
put up another flock or possibly a snipe or two. 
It seemed such a poor day for ducks that we 
had given up all hope of even getting a shot un¬ 
less the wind died out with the sun and we could 
manage to creep upon a flock in the dusk of early 
evening. Nevertheless both of us were alert as 
we strolled up the creek bank, and by the merest 
chance I saw a black head sticking above a 
clump of grass in the water. I signaled to Doc 
that there were ducks ahead. He dropped upon 
his hands and knees, and crawling within range 
jumped up suddenly and bagged a fat butter- 
ball. Our luck had changed, but there seemed 
to be no more ducks, so we were forced to go 
after yellowlegs again. Circling the meadows 
we located a flock on a mudbank and managed 
to get one in spite of the high wind which made 
it well nigh impossible for us to shoot with any 
degree of accuracy. By the time we had circled 
the meadows it was time for us to return to our 
boat. Instead of going down, the wind had in¬ 
creased to a stiff gale, as the captain called it, 
and we were considering the advisability of put¬ 
ting to sea in the sturdy little dory or taking 
shanks mare and the beach route, when three 
black ducks dropped into the creek not a hun¬ 
dred yards from 11s. Three more ducks would 
make a pretty good meal for four of us, and 
dropping on all fours, we crawled through the 
marsh until we were in range and let them have 
a broadside of chilled shot just as they were 
leaving the water. At last we had hunted ducks 
and shot ducks and were satisfied to go home. 
A heavy sea was pounding the beach into a 
long undulating line of snowy spray. Out on 
the bay it would have been difficult to launch 
an open boat. Could we three take the Goose¬ 
hopper out across the bay in the teeth of such 
a storm and bring her safe to her moorings? 
The captain, who had spent a life time upon 
salt water, said he would risk it. We said we 
would go, and making everything fast, we 
worked the little craft out of the creek into 
the open bay. Once clear of the protecting 
shelter of the banks along the shore, the wind 
M INNESOTA has some of the best bass 
fishing in the United States, and this by 
no means excludes the other kinds of 
fish for which Minnesota waters are famous. 
But the bass is the leader of them all. 
The whole State is a fishing ground, for over 
ten thousand lakes are spread over this great 
territory and most of them well stocked. If 
the fisherman. desires some truly good sport 
and is thinking of taking a trip, my view is 
that he should visit Minnesota. We have the 
best of transportation. There are resorts over 
the whole State. With the opening of the sea¬ 
son, people flock here from every State in the 
Union. Bass is the fish generally sought by 
the majority, but there are good trout streams 
in the north, and wall-eyed pike are to be found 
in all lakes of any size. The black bass is the 
most popular game fish. Live-bait fishermen 
are found everywhere, but the fly-fisher has his 
share of the sport and good sport it is indeed. 
The small-mouth bass are very lively. Despite 
the fact that rigid fishing is kept up there is no 
sign that the supply is diminishing; each year 
millions of bass fry are placed in the streams 
and lakes by the game and fish commission 
and the result is that we have a steady supply. 
Big Stone Lake on the border of Traverse 
county and Big Stone county in South Dakota 
is noted for its bass fishing, and each year a 
small army of anglers betake themselves to this 
lake. The Cass and Leach Lake region is 
noted especially for its excellent mascalonge 
fishing, although all kinds of fish known to this 
region are found there. Canoeists will find this 
is one of the best places for their trip. Mille 
Lacs, about sixty miles north of St. Paul, is 
rapidly becoming the mecca for those who want 
to fish, hunt and swim. The St. Croix River, 
between Afton and Marine, one of the best fish¬ 
ing grounds, is about thirty-five miles from the 
city. Kinnikinic and Spring valley, tributaries 
to the St. Croix, are among the best trout- 
streams. The northern part of the State is full 
struck us with increased fury. A huge wave 
drenched Doc and I to the skin again. The little 
boat heaved and tossed like a cork as she lurched 
across the rough water, tacking back and forth. 
We were anxious to reach the dock and relieve 
the fears of our wives who we knew were on 
the beach watching for a glimpse of the Goose¬ 
hopper. Slowly darkness settled down over the 
water and lights began to flicker like fireflies 
from the homes along the shore. It was almost 
impossible to avoid the shifting boom or tell 
our position, but with the homing instinct of a 
bird, the captain laid a straight course for the 
home docks. 
Twelve hours later we shook hands with the 
grand old veteran of the sea and the war, the 
conductor cried “All aboard” and we were speed¬ 
ing toward the hazy blue peaks of the Adiron- 
dacks, back to our native heath and toil, with 
the ineffaceable picture of the captain, the 
beaches and the bays stamped forever upon our 
memories. 
of good lakes and a person can stop off at any 
small station and be sure of good fishing. All 
well known lakes have summer resorts and 
hotels for the convenience of the fishermen and 
everything is done to make their stay in the 
State one of peace and good will. 
North of Brainerd the lakes are more plenti¬ 
ful and all of these are stocked with game fish. 
One of the best centers is at Deerwood. in Crow 
Wing county, which has held its reputation for 
more than a decade and is the headquarters 
each year of enthusiastic anglers. Deerwood is 
about thirty miles north of Brainerd, has 
many hotels, and guides are procurable. Situ¬ 
ated in the center of a group of the finest bass 
lakes, it is but a half-day’s journey to the 
wildest part of the Mississippi River, while two 
or three hours’ ride will take the sportsman 
to almost virgin stretches of water. Bass fish¬ 
ing at Deerwood promises to be better every 
year, for a fish hatchery has been established 
between Deerwood and Bay Lake. 
One of the most picturesque places in the 
State is Rainy Lake on the Canada line. This 
is truly one of the finest spots in the United 
States, for, with the thousand islands and rocky 
shores shimmering in the sunlight, one may 
spend his days at rest and gain health and 
strength. The angler has a chance to test his 
skill and have something to show for his fish¬ 
ing. Last summer two men in five hours landed 
over a hundred trout. In the streams and tribu¬ 
taries to Rainy Lake there is every variety of 
fishing. 
Fort Frances and Rainer are the points of at¬ 
traction of this northern section. The fisher¬ 
man finds there the spot he has long been 
hunting for; the man or woman with the 
camera can find no better place wherein to fill 
albums; the canoeist may paddle among 
the islands, always finding new spots of interest. 
Kettle Falls is forty-five miles from Fort 
Frances, and from Fort Frances to the 
Devil’s Rapids it is a thirty-mile journey. 
Fishing in Minnesota 
By ROBERT PAGE LINCOLN 
