Aug. 19, 1911-] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
283 
BASS IN A TROUT BROOK. 
If you had been fishing a trout stream all 
morning and had caught two trout, one measur¬ 
ing eight inches and the other two just over the 
required six, and then had come upon a stream 
into which the trout brook emptied and had 
caught over fifty small bass in less than three 
hours, which would you prefer, trout fishing or 
bass fishing? 
Having put this question, the man who has a 
summer cottage on the shore of Greenwood 
Lake gazed abstractedly into the depths of his 
tall glass and having succeeded in landing a bit 
of lemon peel from the bottom proceeded to 
masticate it in a meditative mood. Of course the 
others gathered about the round table declared 
for bass fishing under the circumstances cited. 
“Your decision seems reasonable enough,’’ con¬ 
tinued the man who had put the question, “but 
wait a minute, and I’ll tell you about it. 
“The trout stream is one that is good enough 
for that part of the country in the early season. 
When there is plenty of water in it, it affords 
fairly good sport. But it soon goes down, leav¬ 
ing barely enough water to keep the trout alive 
in the pools and then it would take a hypnotist 
to catch them napping. 
“The stream into which it empties is the 
Wanaque river, which is drawn from Green¬ 
wood lake. When there isn’t -enough water in 
the lake to flow over the dam, it is drawn off 
through a slu'ce, the East Jersey City Water 
Company claiming this privilege. Consequently 
the little river is always fairly high. 
“On this particular day, a couple of weeks 
ago, I had been fishing the little brook with 
worms, and had two small trout in my creel 
when I reached its junction with the Wanaque. 
Of course it was pretty late in the season to 
try for trout, but I’d rather wade a stream filled 
with expectations than sit in a boat all day 
knowing that the lake fish were begging to be 
taken in out of the wet. That’s just my idea of 
the difference between stream fishing and boat 
fishing. 
“I had plenty of worms left in my bait box 
when I struck the main stream. There was a 
swift current, with an eddy about fifty feet be¬ 
low where the two came together, and wading 
out until I was nearly swept off my feet, I just 
let my bait drift down stream. It hadn’t gone 
very far before a bass had it. And how he did 
fight in that clear, swift-running water. ‘A two- 
pounder at least,’ I thought. 
“Presently he broke, and I saw he wasn't as 
big as I had supposed. I hurried him along a 
bit then, but he fought for every inch, dodging 
among the stones, coming out of the water and 
wagging his head at me in defiance, then go¬ 
ing up stream against the current, tireless in 
his superb fighting qualities. 
“When I finally lifted him from the water, 
having no landing net, and compared him with 
the measuring marks on my creel, I found him 
to be a trifle over eight inches, and with a 
fervent benediction I returned him to the water 
tireu out but uninjured. 
"I stayed in that one spot for three hours, 
catching small-mouth bass as fast as I could 
take them from the stream until I had no more 
worms left. I kept count and my tally was 
fifty-thiee fish. And how they did fight! You 
get a bass in still water and he cuts up a few 
capers for a couple of minutes, but take him in 
a rapid running stream and ounce for ounce he 
will outfight a brook trout to such an extent 
that if you meet with the two fish in the same 
day as I did you will be apt to regard the trout 
as a good bit of a piker. Think of catching 
fifty-three of the natural born fighters in three 
hours.” 
‘To put it mildly,” interposed one of the other 
anglers at the round table, “don’t you think 
you are something of a fish hog?” 
“Not a bit of it,” was the reply. “I didn’t 
keep one of them. If you must know the truth, 
plain and unadulterated, there wasn't one of the 
lot that measured quite up to the required nine 
inches!”—Pittsburg Post. 
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