Forest and Stream 
VOL. LXXXIII. 
November 21, 1914 
On Grand Codroy 
A Story of Salmon and Trout Fishing That Will Make You Fondle Your Rod 
By F. G. Nelson. 
Photograph by L. C. Flynt. 
Taking it from his mouth, smoothing it on 
the ball of his thumb and offering it with simple 
courtesy, the old guide said “Would you try a 
bit of gum, sir?” There are two varieties of 
spruce in Newfoundland—the white and the 
black—one very abundant and one producing 
better gum than the other, a chew of it last¬ 
ing ordinarily a week. As a matter of course 
it is passed from mouth to mouth by the mem¬ 
bers of a family and even by friends and ac¬ 
quaintances. Very likely, however, this is a 
custom of only occasional localities and among 
a small minority of the inhabitants thereof. 
We were fishing from a dory which was an¬ 
chored at the lower end of the Captain’s pool 
in the Grand Codroy. Because of the current 
and a fitful, adverse breeze the dory swung in 
a wide arc, so that one could easily cover with 
the fly all of the water through 
which fish were passing up the river. 
Rain on the preceding day had 
raised the water a little, and in con¬ 
sequence there was a fresh run of 
salmon from the Gulf. At frequent 
intervals they could be seen, some 
flinging themselves clear of the water 
only to fall back with a loud splash, 
others merely breaking the surface 
with their back fins. But they did 
not rise readily to the fly. When 
one was hooked the angler was 
speedily put ashore to play the fish 
from the bank so as to avoid the 
possibility of fouling the anchor rope. 
This is better than the way they do 
it on the Mersey, on the ocean shore 
of Nova Scotia, where the salmon 
are gaffed from the boat, and where 
they run somewhat smaller than 
those of the Grand Codroy. Up to 
the day we left the river, late in June, • 
the record fish of the year weighed 32 pounds 
and was caught by a woman. The next largest 
weighed 18 pounds and from that weight they 
ran down to 8 pounds. 
After a forenoon of fishing, successful or 
otherwise, it is very pleasant to settle down in 
the sun and out of the wind, before a camp 
fire where bacon and eggs, trout, and coffee 
are being made ready for a mid-day meal which, 
with the addition of homemade bread and butter 
and apple pie, leaves nothing to be desired—un¬ 
less it be a larger capacity. Customarily anglers 
carry luncheon and spend the whole day out 
of doors, being rowed up by the guide in the 
morning and home again at night. The nearest 
pool—the long tidal pool—with the best fishing 
at its narrow upper end, is'only two miles up 
from the clean and comfortable farm-house 
where we were so well cared for. From an 
anchored boat or wading out from either shore 
one can reach good water with his fly. During 
the first afternoon there a 4% pound brook 
trout was taken and a salmon, which others who 
saw it leap said would weigh 25 pounds, was 
lost. Years ago Eugene Field wrote: 
“I never lost a little fish; yes, I am free to say 
It always was the biggest fish I caught, that got 
away.” 
Perhaps he had salmon fishing in mind; at 
all events his couplet applies to that sport with 
more significance than does the Roman saying 
“Omne ignotum pro magnifico,” because gener¬ 
ally you see your fish one or more times and 
so have opportunity to estimate its weight. In 
bait fishing only, when there is a mighty pull 
on the line, deep down, and the hook is carried 
away by something unseen, is it permissible for 
the fisherman to give free rein to his imagina¬ 
tion? Possibly some of them abuse the privilege. 
The losing of that salmon was due solely to 
the carelessness of the angler, for the gut eye 
of his fly was fastened to the leader by a jam 
hitch which pulled through under the heavy 
strain. If the fly had been tied on a Pennell 
hook with a small steel eye, or if there had been 
a knot at the end of the leader, it might have 
held. A day or two later another angler lost 
an even larger fish because he used an old fly 
which probably had been weakened by the tak¬ 
ing of salmon in other years. At all events it 
was torn off from the gut eye which was left 
hanging to the leader. 
Midway between the two lower pools the river 
has eaten out under the north bank a deep hole 
which is known to be a resting place for salmon 
going up stream. Right there a fly cast across 
the current sweeps down in a swift curve and 
is almost irresistible as it swings in to the bank. 
On the morning of our last day on the river the 
first cast of a Silver Doctor was nipped and lost 
by a salmon close to the turf which 
dips down into the water over the 
deep hole. After a few minutes' 
rest the cast was repeated and a 
grilse jumped clear over the fly but 
failed to touch it. To the third cast, 
five minutes later, the salmon came 
again, was hooked and in due course 
was landed further down so as not 
to disturb the water. A rise to each 
of the first three casts aroused high 
hopes of good sport; but, strangely 
enough, not another fish rose all day 
long from that hole to any fly. Four 
salmon were the best single day’s 
catch of one rod. They were taken 
by an angler whose favorite fly was 
said to be the Yellow Downy, a 
small yellow fly with silver body, 
originally designed by an old New¬ 
foundland Indian guide. The fly was 
not on exhibition. The Silver Doctor, 
also, was acceptable to the salmon 
and so, too, was the less-well-known Milne. It 
has an orange floss body wound with yellow 
tinsel, a golden pheasant tail, a brown wing, red 
hackle legs and a flicker breast-feather head, the 
dark spot thereon simulating an eye. Under 
water it looks surprisingly like a small minnow. 
The next best catch was made by an angler who 
had never before fished for salmon. His experi¬ 
ence with other game fish and the suggestions 
of his expert guide stood him in good stead. 
The angler who in all probability has fished as 
much as, if not more, than any of the others had 
