718 
That female caribou on the Alaska Peninsula 
be protected; that the season for killing moose 
anywhere in the Territory be changed from 
August i to September i; that north of latitude 
62 deg. the season for killing grouse, ptarmigan, 
shore birds, and water fowl should begin on 
August 15 instead of September 1, as these birds 
have generally taken flight for southern regions 
before the latter date; that a bounty for kill¬ 
ing wolves be provided, in order to exterminate 
these animals, which are rapidly destroying the 
deer of southeastern Alaska. 
“Have you ever been on a fishing trip to the 
Gulf Coast?” asked my friend Brice, of the Swift 
Packing Co., Jacksonville, Florida. “No,” said I, 
and inwardly I was longing for the opportunity 
to present itself. “Then on my next trip you are 
to go,” and I immediately assented. Within a 
few days he came down to my place of business 
and exhibited a telegram from his friend Mc- 
Kinstry at Gainesville, asking him to bring a 
friend and join him in a fishing trip to Cedar 
Keys on the Gulf. 
“If we go we are to start this afternoon.” 
That afternoon found us on the way to Cedar 
Keys. Our trip was uneventful, except at Gaines¬ 
ville we picked up Brice’s friend McK., and he 
knowing that we had no “diner” on had his sis¬ 
ters prepare a lunch for us. Lunch, did I say? 
Never have I seen as many edible “appurtenan¬ 
ces” brought forth from the confines of a suit¬ 
case—or any other case—for that matter. The 
Waldorf Astoria had nothing on us. 
The gastronomical feats of Brice and myself, 
and they have always to be reckoned with, began 
at 7.30 and at 9.25, when we reached Cedar Keys, 
Brice was still eating. 
Cedar Keys in reconstruction days was the 
metropolis of all that part of Florida. It has a 
fine harbor and handled a great part of all the 
old Spanish shipping, later becoming a great lum¬ 
ber center and wholesale market. With the com¬ 
ing of the railroad and competition from Jack¬ 
sonville, it has dwindled until now it is a small 
village and its fisheries which have always been 
great, are its chief asset. Cedar Keys is on an 
island and its immense fishing nets and seines, 
hung everywhere and over everything, made one 
think that the town was trying to screen against 
some giant mosquito. 
We retired early and were up for the “first 
call for breakfast.” Our boatman called at 7.00 
and reported ready, with the likelihood of a hot, 
sultry, calm day ahead of us. 
We were soon in our launch and headed for 
the fishing grounds five miles down the bay. On 
inquiring of our boatman where he had stored 
our bait he pointed to two mullet of about a 
pound each. 
The question of bait which is a de-batable 
question in some parts of our country, never 
bothers a Florida fisherman. 
“Do you mean to say that for three men who 
have come 175 miles to fish, that that is enough 
bait to last them all day?” He looked me over 
rather carefully and replied that it was sufficient. 
In our Northern waters where fish are scarce 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Hunting Licenses. 
In the fiscal year 1914 the number of non¬ 
resident hunters obtaining hunting licenses was 
26, of whom 24 were citizens of the United 
States and 2 were residents of foreign coun¬ 
tries. In the fiscal year 1913 the number of 
non-resident hunters taking out hunting licenses 
was 36, of whom 25 were citizens of the United 
States and 11 were residents of foreign coun¬ 
tries. Residents of Alaska are not required to 
take out hunting licenses, even in the Kenai 
Peninsula. 
and food abundant the fish are a little choice as 
to their diet, but here where there are thousands 
of fish they are not such connoiseurs- 
It is eat or be eaten. And reminds one of 
lines lately appearing in your magazine: 
“There was a little spider 
Fell plunk into the brook, 
A little minnie happened by— 
And now the bug’s a spook. 
“Oh, the fishing life is a merry life! 
What ho, for the angler’s tale! 
The song I sing is a simple thing— 
It runs right up the scale. 
“A black bass ate the minnie 
Before he stopped to think, 
And a pick’rel ate the said black bass 
While swimming in the drink. 
“Jim Washburn caught the pickerel 
With a hook and a hicldry limb, 
And old Si Perkins’ dater Sue She up and 
landed Jim!” 
It is no place for the lame, the maimed, the 
halt or the blind. 
Darwin must have been an angler, for no¬ 
where else in nature can you so learn of “The 
survival of the fittest.” 
The laggard that drops behind the “school” is 
gobbled up. 
But here we are at the fishing grounds. 
Gasoline is cut off, anchor is thrown out and 
tackle made ready. When I asked the boatman 
for a trout bait lie cut off a piece of mullet and 
placed it on my hook, telling me to cast. Had I 
asked for “red-snapper” bait I would have re¬ 
ceived the same bait but would have been taken 
to a different spot to use it. 
Mine was the first hook baited and I made a 
short cast of about twenty feet; scarcely had my 
line gone down before my reel began to hum and 
the first sea trout was landed, measuring 18 
inches in length. We caught 75 trout, which are 
shown in the picture, and then asked our boatman 
for a chance at some bream or black-fish. 
He took us to another place and there we 
caught 225 black-fish. We asked for small shark 
fishing, and when we had been taken to the pro¬ 
per place we caught 50, some of them as much 
as two feet in length. Three hundred game fish! 
were we “game” hogs? Well, we had a barrel of 
fish all caught in a few hours, and to tell the 
truth my consciene hurt me not at all. 
Normally I am for a limited bag and a small 
creel, but having the most of my life fished where 
the supply was necessarily small, I was for once 
in my life ready to play truant, and the bound¬ 
less ocean and the bountiful supply at hand 
caused no qualm of conscience as by the dozens 
we reeled them in. 
Never in my life had I imagined until that day 
that there was one-hundredth part the variety or 
quantity of life found in the “Deep.” At one 
time during the day a “school” of mullet passed 
us which was fifteen feet in width and (our boat¬ 
man said) more than a mile in length. They were 
headed toward an island not far away, and I 
wished to see what would happen, so put aside 
my tackle. 
Incidentally, I might say that one had just as 
well lay aside his tackle for no fish will bite while 
a “school” passes. In the wake of the “school” 
came shark, tarpon, porpoise and other denizens 
of the deep darting here and there picking up 
the stragglers and occasionally entering the very 
center of the “school” only to have it disappear 
and re-form on ahead. As the “school” neared 
the island a large flock of pelicans screamed out 
their delight, for “business” in their line was 
picking up. 
Soon the air was alive with birds. Pelicans, 
gulls, heron, crane, osprey, etc. Where did they 
come from? Ask the four winds. They were 
there screaming, plunging, fighting and gorman¬ 
dizing to their hearts’ content. 
On the “school” went to the very shore of the 
island there to disband. Into the shallow water 
the pursuers would not go, and the birds having 
fed to the full, most all settled down on the 
island to dream of happy days yet to come, while 
that scripture passage kept ringing in my ears: 
“He giveth them their meat in due season.” 
During the day a 12 foot shark, a man eater, 
circled our boat and looked up hungrily at us, 
and not fifteen minutes before we had talked of 
taking a swim—no, not me. I had not thought 
of such a thing, for already too many strange 
things had been seen by me and—everyone was 
hungry. But our host had asked us to join him 
in a swim. I told him there was only one way 
to get me in the water and that was to take me 
up and throw me in, and I didn’t believe the other 
three men in the boat could do it. 
After I took a good look at this immense 
shark I was satisfied that the three alone could 
not do it. In my next I propose to tell you of 
my struggle with this man-eater. 
HUNTING IN NEWFOUNDLAND. 
Lockport, N. Y., Nov. 22, 1914. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Messrs. Eugene C. Ferree and Charles G. 
Rogers of Lockport, have just returned from a 
four weeks’ hunting trip in Newfoundland. 
They were up the Humber River as far as the 
Falls. Their principal quest was for bear, but 
did not succeed in finding any “lost bear,” al¬ 
though they saw many tracks. Each brought 
home three caribou heads, which I think is the 
limit, and Mr. Ferree a silver fox, the only fox 
seen, although (as in the case of bear) they saw 
many tracks. 
Mr. Rogers essayed to trap a bear, but bruin 
merely “touched off the trap” without receiving 
harm. J. L. DAVISON. 
The “ Game-Hog ” At The Gulf 
By W. T. McCown. 
