172 
FOREST AND STREAM 
The Day After A Freshet 
How Success Attended the Skill of the Dry Fly Fisherman 
By Theodore Gordon. 
HEN we have a heavy flood in any 
of our mountain streams, many 
trout are forced out of the 
torrent and run up the little 
estuaries of small streams or 
rather brooks. In old times 
these were known as Bennie- 
kills, bennie I believe meaning 
small and kill stream; hence the Beaverkill, one 
of our finest rivers. 
The trout seem to know that they are much 
exposed when lying in these brooks and drop 
back into the main stream as soon as the water 
falls. I saw about a bushel of good fish, almost 
in the village of Claryville, after a tremendous 
freshet in August, 1912, and think that plans had 
been prepared for their destruction that night, 
but the water fell so rapidly that they were all 
back in the stream by 5 o’clock, p. m. Most of 
these fish came from posted water below. 
This was on Sunday and on Monday I had 
very pretty'sport with good trout of 12 to 14 
inches. The number was only half a dozen but 
all I wished for to send to a woman ftiend who 
was in bad health, but very fond of fresh trout. 
The water was clear as crystal, quite cold and the 
fish caught in great style. Only tw, days since 
the fresh water came down but th -v were differ¬ 
ent in appearance. They had fed freely and 
really seemed to have plumped out. They cer¬ 
tainly were much brighter in color. 
I killed two and lost another in a pool only 
a stone’s throw from my quarters. This pool 
had been curiously changed by the heavy waters, 
but more by the rush of water worn stones. 
These last produce extraordinary effects, tear¬ 
ing, gouging and filling up. 
I knew that there would be at least five per¬ 
sons sitting down at my friend’s table on Tues¬ 
day, possibly six, so I wished to kill that number, 
but when I came in I had but five. They were 
very handsome, nevertheless I needed one more 
and the stream had been well fished that day by 
many anglers. Directly after supper I toddled 
down stream to what was now in this stage of 
water, a fine pool. I went over it twice and was 
almost discouraged when a good 12 inch trout 
took the pale delicate fly I was offering. This 
completed a very agreeable day. I had fished 
probably five hours. Two in the morning, the 
same in late afternoon and one hour after tea. 
The stream above was a bit peculiar in some 
respects. It seemed to be full of very small 
native trout and local fishermen caught quantities 
of these, while I stuck to the larger brown trout 
that were not plentiful. I would come in with 
three of four fish and be informed that some 
local man had basketed thirty or more. After I 
understood and saw the miserable little trout I 
was no longer puzzled. I had a real hard time of 
it catching or trying to catch the big trout I had 
marked down. They had become very timid and 
smart during the six weeks of low water, and 
would run for their dens at the first alarm. The 
only thing to do was to crawl up from below, 
after you knew the habitual lie of the fish when 
he was out feeding or taking the air. I assure 
you one feels quite proud of even a pound trout 
taken under these conditions. 
Two or three days after the freshet my land¬ 
lord hitched up his old white horse and said 
that we would go a fishing. He drove down 
the river about three miles, thus passing over a 
lot of posted water, and getting down to where 
it was free. This being below the junction of 
the East and West branches of the Neversink, 
the stream is much larger and the pools were 
still in fine order. My companion devoted his 
attention to the shallows where he took a good 
many eight inch trout, natives and brown trout 
mixed, and very nice fish for the pan, but not 
my motion of sport-giving trout. I worked 
quite hard for five or six trout and then walked 
up stream seeking a deep pool near the road, 
into which a riprap of logs and stone had been 
builf. Any one who saw the place knew that it 
must hold a big trout or two. There was eight 
to ten feet of water in the deepest hole below 
the logs, and the rapid ran into the pool and 
threw itself against the obstruction. As it be¬ 
came quiet I spotted a lovely spot for a big feed¬ 
ing fish to lie. However, I fished every part of 
the water below, then put up a perfectly new 
fly and oiled it. At the second cast a trout 
started from the bottom at least six feet from 
the fly and took it savagely; after a desperate 
struggle it was safely landed and joined the 
others in a stout piece of wrapping paper in the 
big pocket of my shooting coat. Wading across, 
I climbed up the riprap and began studying the 
bottom to learn more of the pool. I had noticed 
a large tent in the distance and presently a 
greatly excited individual appeared from that di¬ 
rection, and angrily told me that I was on leased 
and posted land and must go at once. 
I departed cheerfully but was very sorry that 
I could not return to that deep pool. It was 
by far the most attractive of any for miles. At 
one time there was any quantity of the finest 
kind of dry fly water, from the junction down, 
but the floods had spoiled many of the best pools. 
One in particular almost made me weep. From 
a distance it appeared unchanged, at least 300 
yards of beautiful flowing water, from two to 
eight feet deep but when one arrived on the 
spot it was seen to Be silted up, the bottom was 
sand and small gravel; not a hiding place in 
sight, and not more than two feet of water any¬ 
where. No one could tell me of the lies of big 
trout, yet ten years before I never passed through 
Claryville without being informed of enormous 
brown trout that had escaped from all the 
native anglers, sometimes even after they had 
a snare around the body. However, I enjoyed 
the summer and had enough sport to satisfy my 
reasonable demands. 
I Knew It Must Hold a Trout or Two. 
