220 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 6, 1909. 
Often I have watched fishermen leave the stream 
at the head of such stretches and work their 
way down through the brush, occasionally pok¬ 
ing the undergrowth aside to see if they were 
not nearly to the foot of the dead water. 
Usually the channel in these places will be close 
to one shore, but I have in mind a number of 
instances where there are two channels, one 
against either bank, with a gravel bar in the 
center of the stream. 
This light colored gravelly bottom certainly 
looks unpropitious for trout fishing, but that is 
not all there is to it. If one goes to the chan¬ 
nels he will find their bottoms strewn with 
stones of various sizes and the banks of the 
creek a network of roots. 
One may draw a wet, submerged fly over these 
channels and stay convinced for a long time 
that nothing but minnows are there. But if he 
has a dry fly with a very flne leader and is able 
to drop it lightly at a long distance, he will 
often discover as it floats over the hidden stones 
that the minnows have turned to large trout. 
In this kind of water the dry fly angler comes 
to his Eden. The more shaded and charming 
the spot the better the fishing. Here the trout 
are as alert as weasels and as wild as the winds. 
It is the finest fibered of all sports to wade 
hip deep of a June evening in a glassy pool 
where the declining sun has turned trees and 
banks to a golden green and cast a long line 
with gossamer leader and floating fly. There 
is no roar of the water, no baffling currents, no 
stumbling over boulders. But one’s nerve and 
eye must be as quick and steady as a hairspring. 
The fly lights with the ease of thistledown and 
floats slowly through the shadows. There is a 
tiny dimple on the surface, and like a flash you 
hook your flsh or have lost your chance. 
In such water the trout do not rise with a 
dash and grab the fly, as is their wont on the 
rapids. Rather, they gently sip in the lure, and 
the instant the deception is recognized it is 
ejected. The process gives the angler but the 
briefest possible time to make the strike, and 
it is a better test of his skill than any other 
operation in trout fishing. 
In this sort of work the casting is usually 
up stream, but Robert has a trick for casting 
down stream which works nicely and frequently 
solves the problem of a location from which to 
cast. He gives his fly a slight twitch when it 
is a few feet above the water, which results 
in its falling with a slack line. This slack 
allows the fly to float on down stream with the 
advantage that the trout sees it before he sees 
the leader. Also the line is straightening mean¬ 
while and becoming in a better condition for a 
strike or to be recovered. When the cast is 
made up stream, the line at once begins to grow 
slack, for even in smooth water on our moun¬ 
tain streams there is always more current than 
one thinks. If it is left for any length of time 
the line is not only difficult to recover, but in¬ 
effectual in case of a strike. By having these 
two methods of casting at one’s command, a 
much larger space can be covered without mov¬ 
ing the feet. 
This last consideration is highly important. 
Hob-nailed shoes or boots can scarcely be moved 
upon the gravel bottom without giving all the 
fish within easy range a shock. Remember we 
are now discussing quiet water where there are 
none of the natural noises of a rapid stream. 
No clicking of moving or rocking stones, no 
roar of the rift, no sifting sound of falling 
spray. Also remember when you were a boy 
in swimming how two stones rapped together 
would sting your ear if you held it under water. 
Once I waded several hundred feet parallel with 
the channel in a quiet pool, but fully fifty feet 
away from it. I moved slowly and as quietly 
as convenient upon the gravel bottom, purposely 
to watch the result. When I started, trout were 
dimpling the water all along the channel, but 
as I drew nearer the rising ceased and I was 
almost to the foot of the stretch before those 
that I had first passed began to rise again. 
When I stood still for a little time even the 
ones nearest me returned to feeding, and they 
were not alarmed by the motion of my arm or 
rod when I cast for them. This appeared like 
a clear case of the fish being frightened by the 
unusual vibrations in the water. 
I have already referred to an instance when 
a fish was scared by thunder while I was play¬ 
ing him, and I once had another experience 
which bears upon this subject. I had hooked 
a large brown trout at a point where the rail¬ 
road runs along the bank of the Esopus. The 
fish was skulking on the opposite side of the 
stream from me. but was near to the track. A 
work train had been standing there for some 
time, and being now ready to leave it blew four 
long distinct blasts to call in the flag. At each 
blast the fish started perceptibly and at the last 
he became frantic and made a wild run. 
A curious incident happened last season which 
called our attention quite forcibly to how many 
anglers entirely neglect this smooth water. At 
one of the many little hamlets on the lower 
Esopus there lives a fisherman whom I will 
call Brown, because I am certain that is not 
his name. Brown is a slight, nimble sort of 
chap and works in a factory. I suppose he eats 
supper at some time, but it must be very late 
in the evening. Just the instant the factory 
closes Brown grabs his fly-rod. and from then 
until dark he may be seen skipping along the 
bank of the creek, hopping from boulder to 
boulder like a “tip-up.” He covers more ground 
in a couple of hours than any of us would cover 
in a day. He is an excellent fisherman and 
often have I stopped and watched him as he 
passed me. BTe casts his fly delicately now 
here, now there, reminding one of a humming¬ 
bird working among flowers. I do not know 
how long he has been doing this, but he was 
there the first season we camped on the Esopus. 
Scarcely have I seen him when he did not have 
something to show in the way of a catch. 
One evening last June I was whipping the 
swift water at the foot of a rift, while far 
below me the upper half of Robert Bruce stuck 
above the glistening surface of a still pool. The 
twilight was deepening so that I could not see 
his movements, but T knew he was aiming a 
dry fly at the little dimoles under the shaded 
bank. As I turned around I saw Brown stand¬ 
ing on a boulder intentlv watchinv. Very soon 
he hopped down from his boulder and wading 
out to me, inquired: 
“What’s Mr. Bruce doin’ down there?” 
I explained the matter and watched to see 
how Brown would take it. He looked rather 
incredulous for a moment and then exclaimed: 
“Well, that beats my time! I’ve lived here 
a good many years, but I never got a trout 
there. If it was anybody else I’d think you was 
stringin’ me, but if Mr. Bruce is down there 
he’s after something. I’m goin’ to know all 
about that.” And away he went. 
He waded out to Robert and apparently an 
animated discussion began. When I had whip¬ 
ped until I could no longer see my fly and the 
darkness had swallowed them they were still 
at it. Occasionally a lighted match would pass 
back and forth so that I knew the subject was 
not yet exhausted. I sat upon a boulder and 
waited for another half hour, watching the 
flickerings, while those enthusiasts were too in¬ 
tent upon their visit to even wade to shore. 
Winfield T. Sherwood. 
Tournameni Casiing. 
R.vcine, Wis., Feb. i .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: The boys have got the professional 
versus amateur bee to buzzing in my bonnet 
again, and I h^ve simply got to get it out. I 
have said so much in the national meetings, by 
letters to the national president and members 
of different clubs, that I feel whenever I attend 
a tournament, they say to themselves, “Well, 
the chronic kicker is on deck”; so I have re¬ 
frained from saying more on the subject. But 
after hearing from the California boys and 
brothers Darling, Marsh and Beet, I guess you 
will have to take what’s coming. 
I have never believed in Rule 7, Section V., 
.\rticle II. of tbe constitution of tbe N. A. S. 
A. C., simply "because it seemed to bar good 
men, who could not and would not hurt the 
game from a professional standpoint, but would 
only tend by their presence and participation 
in contests and tournaments, to help in every 
way possible to broaden its scope, bring it to 
a higher plane of artistic skill and to spread a 
more brotherly and kindly feeling among their 
fellows. 
This rule is, as I understand it, meant to keep 
commercialism from the game, which, up to 
date, we have had no signs of, as in the gun 
clubs; and the only sort of commercialism that 
would really affect us any way, is very well 
taken care of by rule 4 in the same section (V.) 
and article (TI.), constitution, viz.: A pro¬ 
fessional, etc., is one who for pay casts or has 
cast with any rod, reel, line or device in the 
interest of the maker or seller thereof. 
I would like to see before, or at the next 
national meeting, after due three months’ notice 
has been given to the different affiliated clubs, 
that part of Section V., Article II.—Rule 7 
with amendments—cut out and forgotten. 
I do not think a rule can be framed and a 
line drawn fine enough to cut out one man and 
keep in another, when they are both suffering 
under practically the same condition. A rule is 
a rule, and if it hits one it must hit all, so that 
there is no loophole for any seeming partiality. 
And this rule in question, if continued as a law, 
must be made to bar all or none, I believe, and 
I tbink the majority are of tbe same opinion 
that all should not be barred. Let us do away 
entirely with all argument, bad feeling, etc., 
strike the rule out and allow every true, honest 
and pure-hearted brother sportsman to enjoy 
with us the beautiful and fascinating art of bait- 
and fly-casting. 
As I said before. Rule 4, Section V. covers 
all we need or,, I believe, we will ever need to 
