57 2 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 13, 1907. 
marsh hawk (Falco cyancus) , by audubon. 
From Goodspeed’s Catalogue. 
In fact when first the fisher made its appearance 
the Indians had no name for it, but after it 
became better known they adopted the Algon¬ 
quin name it now bears. When an Indian, in the 
early sixties, was fortunate enough to have one 
in his pack he mentioned it as a big marten. 
For many years the Saguenay River appeared 
to have been the boundary line for moose, red 
deer and pekan, none being known on the east 
side, while fairly numerous on the west bank. 
As the fisher was never very plentiful on the 
Labrador, and when found was only in the 
wooded parts, it is not strange that a person of 
Mr. de Puyjalon’s sedentary habits should have 
trapped only two. 
I lived within hearing distance (that is, 
courier’s reports) of Mr. de Puyjalon, while that 
gentleman resided on the coast, and apart from 
hearing that he set a fox trap or two about his 
shanty, never heard him mentioned as what we 
would call a trapper. 
In his article he gives the pekan the credit 
of showing considerable cunning and finesse. As 
a matter of natural history they have no more 
of this than a marten, and will bungle into an 
ordinarily made dead-fall in the same way. The 
only thing to do when fisher are known to be 
about a line of marten traps is to make a larger 
sized house for him and extra heavy weight to 
keep him down when caught. 
That the fisher decreases in number is quite 
contrary to facts. According to the last London 
sales of mixed furs in September, fisher stood 
at 4,926, in 1893 4,828, and in 1883 4,640, show¬ 
ing that they have increased slightly. In some 
parts of the country they stand in the returns 
about equal to the marten exported. I remem¬ 
ber this very plainly, for at the time it struck 
me as peculiar. I was in charge of an out-post 
on Lake Superior. Our returns were principally 
beaver, foxes and lynx, very few marten, and in 
that year I had at the close of trade 96 marten 
and 96 fisher. This was impressed on my 
memory as being such a strange coincidence, 
because the post I had been previously stationed 
at turned out over two thousand marten to eight 
or ten fisher. The prices for fisher in the Cana¬ 
dian market vary but little and we never have 
fluctuations as in silver foxes and marten. The 
skins are little used in any country except Russia 
and China, where they are used chiefly by the 
rich as coat linings. As they have a tough skin, 
and when prime a deep, rich fur, it is a wonder 
—since they are comparatively few on the mar¬ 
ket—that the”- do not command a better price. 
The resort of the pekan is principally along 
the mountain ranges, never in the black spruce 
or flat barren country of the table land or to 
the north of it. Their food consists of rabbits, 
partridges, mice, squirrels and fruits when in 
season. When the mountain ash berries are 
plentiful and hang late in the autumn, both the 
fisher and the marten are difficult, if not impos¬ 
sible, to trap, as there is no meat lure you can 
bait with that will induce them to leave the 
berries. 
In a year of scarcity of fruits, when the fisher 
has to depend, on his own adroitness in securing 
his food, I have read the signs and seen where 
one has been very persistent in running down a 
rabbit, the chase being up and down, in and out, 
until bunny was overtaken, killed and eaten. 
Martin Hunter. 
Frogs and Artificial Flies. 
Saginaw, Mich., April 6 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: The subject of frogs being reviewed 
just now in Forest and Stream reminds me 
of an incident that occurred in 1900. I was 
fooling along a little brook that ran through 
pasture land, wild plum bushes, etc., in sduthern 
Minnesota, trying to catch the trout the natives 
told me lived there. They didn’t, or at least 
they were “not in” to me that afternoon. 
Along the banks of the stream were innumer¬ 
able little bright green frogs. They hopped in 
front of me at every step. Finally, I idly 
swung my tail fly—a red ibis, on No. 10 hook- 
over one of them, and he jumped a foot into the 
air and took the hook in a wink. I found I 
could catch those frogs with rod and line to 
my heart’s content, and I nearly filled my basket 
with them as bait for bass in Lake Pepin nearby. 
Occasionally a frog would get away before 
I landed him. Once one of them took the fly 
a second time. Then I unhooked him, threw 
him on the ground and hooked him a third 
time. Surprised at this, I tried him again and 
again, and he never failed to “rise.” By 
actual count, as an experiment I hooked and 
unhooked one of those frogs eighteen times, and 
he didn’t show any evidences of dissatisfaction 
or discomfort from his experience. It is true 
that toward the end he didn’t jump so high and 
with such alacrity as at first, but he never failed 
to snap that red fly whenever I swung it in front 
of his nose. I tried the thing with other frogs 
until I was tired. 
I reached the conclusion that if frogs felt 
so little pain from having their lips pierced full 
of holes, I need waste no more sympathy on 
the many brook trout that are hooked and 
manage to get away. The blood certainly runs 
no warmer in the veins of a fish than in those 
of a frog, and the nervous system of neither is 
very highly sublimated. I have since caught 
fish every season, accordingly, with very much 
more ease of conscience. W. J. Hunsaker. 
[We have frequently tried similar experiments 
with large bullfrogs, and the impression received 
was that, judging from the actions of the frogs 
when the red ibis fly, or even a bit of red 
flannel came their way, the sight of the thing 
angered them and they jumped at it as, if at 
some enemy. We have seen immense bullfrogs 
snap up the red lure, then, if given slack line, 
sit on the bank and make no attempt whatever 
to swallow the fly. If the rod be swung with 
a short line, so that the fly will pass close to 
the frog, then a sharp twitch given the fly, so 
that the frog will miss it, he will seemingly 
make as many efforts to catch it as the angler 
will to prevent him from doing so, growing 
angrier with every jump, as one can readily be¬ 
lieve from the tone of his croak. After a time, 
however, he may tire of the game if not per¬ 
mitted to catch the fly, and will then put his 
head down and shut both eyes every time the 
fly swings near him, in the same manner as if 
tickled in the side with a straw. This last 
