660 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 23, 1909. 
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Camping on Gray Eagle Lake. 
It was evening on Gray Eagle Lake—evening 
with all her charms come again at end of day 
to herald rest and deep peace to the wilderness- 
land. Evening—ah, friend, what hour of the 
day is more charming than the twilight hour, 
when all nature and her keepers cease their 
joyful pursuits and heed the evening call? In 
a raspberry tangle a vesper thrush, perched on 
a branch, was sending out his soulful notes Over 
the quiet wood and somewhere in the cool 
depths of the woodland a chipmunk barked out 
a challenge to a kindred neighbor. Then quiet¬ 
ness reigned. I sat before the cabin and 
watched the sun as it slowly sank down over 
the western horizon. Orange-red and tinged 
with a multitude of colors were the clouds that 
received the last sunbeams, and in their splen¬ 
dor they colored the waters of the lake at the 
far end. As the long shadows crept from out 
the forest and stretched out into the water a 
new and equally beautiful vision was revealed. 
Not a breeze stirred the limpid waters, not one 
ripple was to be seen on the surface, and off 
across that expanse of water the last light of 
day stretched forth, while on every side the 
trees cast their shadows in zig-zag waves out 
on the quiet water. As I was deep in my lone 
reverie, out on the lake among the shadows a 
canoe made its appearance with swift, yet silent 
progress. It was Bud returning from a trip up 
the lake where he went in the afternoon to pro¬ 
cure some photographs of birds’ nests and 
eggs, and to studying the habits of a pair of 
ospreys that had built a nest some distance be¬ 
yond our camp. 
Bud beached the canoe and shouted out a 
greeting. 
“I smell supper,” he said. There was hunger 
in hjs eye as he came up, and in short order I 
had some food on the table and two hungry 
fellows sat down to eat. 
“What luck to-day?” was my first question. 
Bud gulped down some coffee, and gave me a 
smile that spoke volumes. 
“Got five pictures of nests and eggs. One 
barred owl with three eggs, one thrush, one 
crow’s nest, one slate-colored junco and one 
catbird that I found down at the creek piping 
away, telling me she had a nest hid somewhere 
about there. The ospreys were about the nest 
this afternoon. It’s going to be a hard climb 
up that tree to get a picture.” 
I was of the same opinion, for the nest was 
in a long shaky pine that towered high up over 
the lake. However, there was a tree next to 
it that could be climbed without great exertion, 
and a photograph could be gotten from some 
vantage point. Bud thought his plan a good one. 
Supper over and the lamp lighted, Bud 
pulled out his rough made chair, and after he 
had disrespectfully put his feet on the edge of 
the table, buried himself in reading. 
On the following day Bud intended to con¬ 
tinue his taking of bird photographs, and the 
day after that we both would combine in photo¬ 
graphing the osprey’s nest. I had been several 
miles to the north of camp the previous day 
and had returned with a good set of pictures for 
my trouble. It was one of our greatest pleas¬ 
ures to compare notes after our day’s trip, and 
although there was much discouragement and 
an additional amount of hard work, we were, 
nevertheless, repaid for our trouble when, sit¬ 
ting about the rustic table, we chatted and 
laid new plans for forthcoming expeditions. 
We had come into the woods with the idea of 
getting a complete collection of bird photo¬ 
graphs—nests and eggs, and thus far luck had 
smiled upon us. 
It was morning in camp, and as the first 
golden sunbeams glittered through the treetops 
in the east, I yawned long and loud and re¬ 
luctantly heeded the persistent yet cheery call 
of, “Roll out!” Bud had the fire in our im¬ 
provised stone pit fire-place going, and the 
tempting, fragrant smell of coffee reminded 
me that I was hungry. I lost no time in 
donning what little apparel I wore these sum¬ 
mer days, and was out in a jiffy. There were 
bacon and eggs and fried potatoes for break¬ 
fast—also good bread and coffee. And if ever 
man has an appetite in the woods, it is always 
in the morning; at least I have found this true. 
Bud took his departure an hour or so later, 
carrying with him his camera, a .22-caliber 
rifle, a light lunch and a long coil of rope. I 
watched him paddle out of sight around the 
point, and then after a few moments’ thought, 
decided to go fishing. I had in mind a hidden 
nook, where on still days a large black bass 
was seen idly swimming about, yet ever on the 
lookout for the unexpected. A tree grew at the 
edge of the lake, and if it had not been that a 
kingbird had built a nest on a protruding limb, 
I may never have made my acquaintance with 
his majesty. In search of nests one day I dis¬ 
covered this one, and as it was not on my list. 
I decided to procure a photograph. Luckily it 
had three eggs in it, and without the customary 
trouble I got a picture. I must have shaken 
some bugs from the tree, for I suddenly heard 
a great flop below. Grasping a nearby limb, I 
peered down, and there in the shallows lay a 
bass slowly fanning the water and watching 
with keen eyes for the next course of his dinner. 
Four pounds was my hasty thought. 
Frogs I had already caught in a nearby 
swamp—little green fellows that could not be 
resisted by the bass. And so with keen ex¬ 
pectancy I sauntered off with landing net and 
rod. The bass was not visible when I made 
ready for the cast, but I knew that he was 
there. The lake was very still, and barely had 
the frog touched water than I began to re¬ 
trieve line, and was rewarded by a heavy tug 
at the other end. A moment of breathless wait¬ 
ing, and I dealt out line carefully until I was 
sure, then with thumb on the reel line, I set 
the hook with an upward jerk of the tip. 
Out of the water leaped the bass, and shook 
his head as would a bulldog in a vain attempt 
to release the hook. Back and forth he swam 
madly, but in the end lie was mine, and our 
dinner was partly assured. 
Robert Page Lincoln. 
San Francisco Fly-Casting Club. 
San Francisco, Cal., Oct. 4. — Editor Forest 
and Stream: The casting on Stow Lake Satur¬ 
day and yesterday resulted as follows: 
X U LI Ilg , 
rirsi Liass .Accuracy: won Dy ( T . 
98 11-15. 
Second Class Accuracy: Won by T. C. Kierulf 
score, 99 6-15. 
Second Class Delicacy: Won by F. R. Webste 
score, 99 16-60. 
Novice Class, Lure: Won by A. Sperry; score 98 5-1 
E. O. Ritter. 
A Twice Marked Salmon. 
Some interesting data relating to the habits 
of salmon were reprinted recently in the Lon¬ 
don Fishing Gazette from a paper by W. L. 
Calderwood in the report of the Scottish 
Fisheries Board. We quote: 
“I may now refer to the fish which has been 
twice recaptured, and which, I may add, is still 
at large. On March 3, 1905, it was first marked 
on the Helmsdale, a rod-caught kelt of 6 
pounds, 26 inches long. It apparently did not 
return to fresh water in 1905, but adopted the 
long migration, remaining over a winter in the 
sea. On Sept. 28, 1906, when the Helmsdale 
River watchers were netting to procure fish to 
keep in store for the two hatcheries of the dis¬ 
trict, the fish was recaptured for the first time. 
It was by this time 13*4 pounds and 3534 inches 
long. The fish was in unspawned condition. 
The original mark had been 1396. This was 
now changed to 2797, and the fish subsequently 
allowed to go. Again, it would appear, the fish 
adopted the long-migration habit. My reason 
for thinking so is that the examination of the 
scales shows this, and that other Helmsdale 
marking records show in almost all cases 
moderate growth, and sometimes quite insig¬ 
nificant growth and increase in weight, especi¬ 
ally in cases where fish have been held up in 
ponds, as this first was. Compare, for instance, 
these two typical Helmsdale records: 
“821.—qlb , 30in., kelt (f.), Nov. 9, 1904; i 61 b., 
3314 in., clean (f.), May 16, 1906. 
‘‘ 1395 -—7lb., 3oin.. kelt (f.), March 3, 1905;. 
22lb., 36m., clean (f.), June 26, 1906. 
“After, then, this second period of release 
in the sea, the fish now bearing mark No. 2797 
was again recaptured in the Helmsdale when 
the men were netting at the same place for 
hatching purposes, on Sept. 29, 1908—that is, 
exactly two years since it was last handled, and 
three years and a half since the fish was first 
marked. The fish was now marked 4679 and 
again released. At this second recapture this 
female fish was again described as in un¬ 
spawned condition. It weighed 19J2 popnds and 
measured 37*4 inches. If, after spawning the sec¬ 
ond time, the fish lost 4 pounds in weight, as 
is, perhaps, approximately correct, we have a 
net increase of weight in three and a half years, 
allowing for one intervening spawning period, 
°f 9^2 pounds. This is not a great increase. 
We have had a Tay kelt of 6 pounds recaptured as 
a clean fish of 19 pounds in fourteen months. 
Locality exercises a considerable influence on 
the conditions, however, as has previously been 
pointed out. Helmsdale, Brora, and Deveron 
fish do not show very rapid increase. A Helms¬ 
dale fish recently caught in the Spey district— 
in a fixed net near Buckie—is a striking ex¬ 
ample. The record is: 
“4683— 61 b., 28j4in., kelt (f.), Nov. 14, 1908, 
Helmsdale, Kinbrace; syilb., clean (f.), March 
24, 1909, Buckpool net, Spey district. 
“The fish may have taken some little time to 
descend to the sea from Kinbrace after having 
been marked, and would certainly lose weight 
during that time. Further inquiries as to its 
condition when recaptured elicited the reply 
that the fish ‘was in rather poor condition, but 
quite clean.’ 
“The scales of this fish show, counting back 
from the period of its last capture, that it was 
