620 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 17, 1909. 
brown, evening dun, and similar flies are good 
ones, while in the Pennsylvania streams the lead¬ 
wing coachman, hare’s ear and March brown are 
standard, and on the Esopus there are times 
when the Beaverkill and Cahill on No. 8 or 
even No. 6 hooks will attract the big brown 
trout. 
Any well made four- or five-ounce rod will 
answer all requirements on these streams. For 
brushy brooks a nine-foot rod, or even slightly 
shorter will be best, but on open streams 9^2 
feet is a good length. 
Tapered lines, sizes E or F, according to the 
weight of the rod, and thirty yards in length 
will give the best results, and the leader should 
also be tapered to quite a fine end. Six feet is 
the standard length for early fishing. 
More and more fly-fishers are using eyed flies 
exclusively. There are many good reasons for 
this, among them the longer life of the fly and 
the handiness in which they may be kept and 
carried in a tiny box or on clips in the fly-book. 
The Beginning. 
During the next few days there will be much 
sorting of tackle, tidying of flies, inspection of 
gut, and general preparation of equipment for 
the beginning of the trout season. For all 
things considered. April i is the beginning of 
the season for a great many of us, especially for 
those whose lines are cast in dry-fly streams. 
.A-fter such weather as we have had this year it 
will have proved early enough for many who 
have sometimes thrown their first flies on west¬ 
ern or northern streams ere March, with its 
lion-like moods, has Been gone. He must be 
a very glutton for the sport who will cheerfully 
start his trout season with the snow lying ankle- 
deep. Moreover, says Flenry T. Sheringham in 
the London Field, this year the trout cannot be 
otherwise than backward in condition; a late 
spawning season in many places, followed by 
unusually severe weather for weeks, is bound to 
tell its tale, and the early captures from many 
a river will not be so fit that they might not 
have been fitter. Many a fish will doubtless 
owe a providential escape from death to the 
fact that it fails to register its proper number of 
ounces on the steelyard. 
Still, some trout will be caught that are in 
good case, and very welcome will they be. 
There is a fascination about this spring fishing 
not to be measured, luckily, by the weight of 
the basket, but undoubtedly enhanced by a 
timely brace of respectable fish. On the dry- 
fly stream your April day is likely to be a brief 
affair, a deal briefer than it purports to be if 
reckoned in hours of fishing—that is to say, of 
being there witli a rod. One has known the 
hatch of fly to be compressed into a few meagre 
minutes, and then it has needed the nerve and 
cunning of the master a hundred yards lower 
down to take advantage of it. The ordinary 
man, passably efficient perhaps at the end of 
May, when fish go on feeding for hours, in 
.April feels acutely conscious of his unworthi¬ 
ness and his lack of practice. He knows from 
past experience that the concourse of duns and 
enthusiasm of trout are too great to last, and 
he flogs desperately in the effort to gather 
while he may. So, from one cause and another, 
he makes a mess of it, misses fish, strikes off 
flies, and at the end of it all has nothing tang¬ 
ible to show in response to the master’s display 
of a brace and a half. 
Once perhaps in a great while the hatch of 
fly may be more kindly. Memory holds a 
record of a grand rise in cold, heavy rain which 
lasted for a full three hours, fish feeding heartily 
all the while, and, more, continuing to feed in 
odd corners for some time after it all seemed 
over. It was a day of days, mismanaged, of 
course, on the part of the person who remem¬ 
bers, but, even so, productive of more sport 
than he had dared to hope for. If such a day 
came every week, or even every April, one 
would enter on one’s early season with less dif¬ 
fidence. As it is, one has small expectations, 
thus arming the mind against the forces of dis¬ 
appointment. 
The wiser plan, could a man be arbiter of his 
destiny and master of his time, would be to 
spend the April days in places where he can 
fish unashamed with three sparse-winged, soft- 
hackled flies on his cast, places where the trout 
run five or six to the pound and where the 
wind blows down fresh from the moors. Even 
there the sport may be compressed into a 
limited time, but scarcely into so exiguous a 
period as on the chalk stream. Some of those 
lucky ones who were out on April i last year in 
a certain watershed will recall how the trout 
took the March-brown gaily from before noon 
until dark, and how scarcely half an hour passed 
without rises or fish. It was. a “first”* to re¬ 
member for a lifetime. May its successor prove 
as kind to anglers in 1909. 
Another Sulking Salmon. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Last year, in July, while fishing in Harry’s 
Brook, Newfoundland, I had an experience with 
a sulking salmon similar to that described by Mr. 
Carroll. I had fished down the river for more 
than two miles and had cast over several of 
the most promising pools with little or no suc¬ 
cess, having only taken two grilse. I persevered, 
however, as I hoped on wading the rock pool 
to catch a large salmon. During the night the 
river had risen about three inches and the con¬ 
dition of the water seemed favorable for a 
strike. 
After eating lunch we commenced to work 
the pool thoroughly. My friend fished down 
stream and I took the middle and opposite bank. 
A fish rose to his first cast, but try as he might 
he could not get him to take again. As it was 
very warm and fish were scarce my friend de¬ 
cided to give up fishing for the day and con¬ 
tented himself with watching me in my vain 
endeavors to raise a fish. His lack of perse¬ 
verance, however, made me determined to catch 
his fish before returning to camp. I changed 
my fly from one of the old patterns to a black 
dose. 
During the winter a large white pine log had 
drifted down stream and had come to an an¬ 
chorage on a sandy point just opposite me, the 
end reaching far out into the pool. This seemed 
a very likely spot for a salmon to lurk. After 
repeatedly casting in the direction of the log, at 
each cast getting out a little more line, I suc¬ 
ceeded in placing the fly within a few feet of 
it. Suddenly, with the speed of a motor boat, 
a large fish rushed out from under the log, took 
my fly with a gulp, and made a break up stream. 
When he had gone about twenty-five yards he 
made a magnificent leap out of the water. I 
saw that he was a fine fresh run fish of about 
ten pounds weight. Here he turned, and mak¬ 
ing another rush down stream, he again left the 
water. This seemed to exhaust his energy, for 
he swam back to the log and became stationary. 
Nothing I did had any effect in moving the 
fish from this retreat. I tried throwing stones, 
beating on the handle of the rod and even giving 
short sharp jerks on the line. After trying 
these ordinary methods I sent one of my guides 
across the stream to move the fish. With some 
trouble he got out on the log and threw stones 
for nearly ten minutes without any result. I 
then told him to wade in and stir up the salmon 
with the gaff. As the water was about four feet 
deep and very cold he did not relish the job, 
but in he went. After feeling about for some 
time he finally touched the fish. I felt a quick 
jerk on the rod, but that was all. Each time 
the guide touched him the fish moved up stream 
a few feet with no other result than to get into 
the deep water where the guide could not wade. 
I called my man back and told him to get a 
pole out of the canoe. With this he prodded 
the fish several times, but only succeeded in send¬ 
ing him further up stream. My other guide then 
waded in with a second pole. This was too 
much for the salmon. He could not stand being 
pushed up stream by two poles at once. Away 
he went with a rush that left only a few turns 
of line on the reel. Then with a superb leap 
he left the water for the third time. He turned 
down stream and went back to his old bed at 
the end of the log. I had now wasted about 
forty minutes in throwing stones and prodding 
up the salmon and was no better off than in the 
beginning. 
The guide again crossed the stream and I 
noticed that the poor fellow was wet to his 
shoulders. I heard him muttering, “What in 
thunder does that New Yorker expect me to do? 
Does he want me to dive in and bring that fish 
ashore in my hands?” The first prod with the 
pole, however, settled the question, for again 
the fish started up stream. I soon had him under 
control and in a few minutes ready to gaff, when 
another surprise awaited us. 
My guide Jim gaffed him about twenty feet 
from the shore. In his excitement and pleasure 
at getting the fish he forgot the old adage, 
“Make haste slowly,” for he struck his foot 
against a rock and went head first into the river. 
I shall never forget poor Jim’s expression as 
he lay on his back, his eyes staring at the empty 
gaff which he still carefully held' out of the 
water. He shouted out, “Where is he? Where 
is he? Where is that-fish?” I answered 
that he was safe and well hooked across the 
stream. He had taken out about twenty yards 
of line in that last rush for freedom and life. 
It was with a thrill of pleasure which all fisher¬ 
men experience that I saw Jim take the salmon 
by the tail and drop him on the shingle. There 
was no need of a gaff this time, as he had 
fought his noble fight and had lost. The fish 
weighed eleven and three-quarters pounds, and 
it took me just one hour and forty-three minutes 
to land him. C. D. B. W. 
All the fish laws of the United States and 
Canada, revised to date and now in force, are 
given in the Game Laws in Brief. See adv. 
