Jan. 7, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
19 
in new hunting boots or shoes will best appre¬ 
ciate the importance of good information on 
this point. The proper manner of dressing for 
the different kinds of shooting is told. 
The chapter on guns and loads will start the 
novice right on these points from the outset. 
As to hunting dogs—the pointer, setter and 
spaniel—thirty-seven pages are devoted to them. 
Part III. is worthy of special perusal, for it 
has to do largely with game .propagation and 
preservation. It follows the transition from the 
rifle to the shotgun, and the rapid decrease of 
bird life when the shotgun gained a permanent 
place as a weapon of 'destruction. The native 
American killed with no thought of how much 
destruction he wrought, and the. alien killed all 
forms of bird life, caring nothing as to whether 
final extermination came or not. There is a re- 
countal of the many attempts to introduce and 
perpetuate different species of foreign game 
birds, most of which were failures. The chap¬ 
ter on Destruction and Protection shows the 
numerous destructive agencies against which the 
game birds have to contend—the multiplication 
of shooters, cats, dogs, hawks, owls, all the 
carnivorous animals, and last but not least the 
encroachments of agriculture, all pointing to self 
restraint and enforcement of the .game laws. 
The work is profusely illustrated. The fron¬ 
tispiece is an admirable colored plate of the 
ruffed grouse, and a similar beautiful plate is 
devoted to the bobwhite. The originals are by 
Louis Agassiz Fuertes. The Canada grouse and 
the sharp-tailed grouse are illustrated by Audu¬ 
bon plates; in short, almost all the American 
game birds are illustrated and some foreign 
birds also, and some shooting scenes enliven the 
text. The illustrations number sixty-four. With 
the text, they serve to convey nearly the same 
thing as a visual study of the birds, while the 
shooting information equips the reader with the 
.equivalent of years of experience. 
Adirondack Trout. 
Not long ago in one of the magazines I came 
across an article by Stewart Edward White, en¬ 
titled, -“The Cabin.” One chapter was devoted 
to trout fishing in the Rocky Mountains, and by 
way of comparison Mr. White described an 
Eastern fisherman who, for the first time, was 
trying his luck in Western streams. The article 
was a good one and thoroughly descriptive of 
trout fishing in the West, but I feel that Mr. 
White gave the idea that our Eastern trout 
streams are tame when compared with the more 
rugged streams of the Rockies. For this reason 
I am tempted to write of this glorious Adiron¬ 
dack country which ten years’ experience has 
taught me to love so well. 
First I shall tell you something about Phil. 
I met him the first year of my stay on Little 
Moose Lake. The first time I saw Phil he was 
squatted leisurely on a large birch log, unfold¬ 
ing marvelous tales to some of his fellow woods¬ 
men, and, attracted by his picturesque appear¬ 
ance and his French-Canadian accent, I made 
my way to the edge of the circle. 
Before many days Phil and I had become 
quite attached to one another, and since then 
we have spent many a night together in camp. 
Phil is a lumberman by trade, woodsman by in¬ 
stinct, and great romancer by inheritance, as 
Phil himself acknowledges. Phil is an interest¬ 
ing character. In the whole North country there 
is no better woodsman, and he is as much at 
home on water as on land. Never yet have I 
seen a craft capsize under his management, 
though we two have battled with some pretty 
rough water. Once we were crossing Canacha- 
ga!a Lake, the wind blowing a gale, but Phil 
pushed the little craft forward, apparently with 
no greater effort than he might have used had 
we been crossing a mill pond. Every wave 
offered a separate problem, and Phil worked out 
each one. A person with less experience would 
have swamped in an instant. 
At one place I expressed some anxiety lest 
we should capsize and, soak the packs, but Phil 
only grinned. “Meester,” said he, ‘‘I lak tell 
you, you ees saf’ in dees boat lak’ you is in de 
Lord’s pocket,” and I knew that for once at 
least Phil had spoken the truth. 
It has been my experience that one of the 
most exciting points in hunting is in locating 
the game, and I could never see much sport in 
fishing for trout where I did not have to find 
RUSSIAN RIVER, CALIFORNIA. 
On the San Francisco Fly-casting Club Preserve. 
them first. Once we were camping on the Moose 
River, eight or nine miles above Little Moose 
Lake. Phil had prepared an early breakfast 
in order that we might start at the head of the 
upper Stillwater before sunrise and fish down 
stream, reaching the Grindstone Rapids about 
sunset. 
s 
The break of day found us at the head of the 
upper Stillwater, where I made a few casts 
among the boulders at the foot of the swift 
water, but the trout seemed small, so we moved 
on, drifting lazily with the current, while I 
whipped the flies slowly back and forth across 
stream, letting them flutter down as close as 
possible to the bushes. In the holes where ordi¬ 
narily a big fellow might be lurking, we seldom 
got a rise, save for one or two small ones which 
were not thoroughly schooled in the art of tak¬ 
ing the black gnat and the brown hackle. 
Phil grinned, displaying his even white teeth 
beneath his bristly mustache. “I’d lak’ for see 
one beeg one jump,” said he. “Me t’ink you 
fin’ de feesh in de spring holes dees tam.”, ■ 
Phil was right. We soon heard the trickle 
of water coming from, some invisible spot among 
the bushes, and after a careful inspection found 
a small spring pouring into the river thirty feet 
below us. Phil brought the boat to a standstill 
and I began to whip the flies toward the spring 
hole, increasing the length of the line with each 
cast. Finally the distance was measured and 
the flies fluttered gently down over the pool. 
They had scarcely nipped the water when the 
expected happened. I hooked a two-pounder 
and after a lively tussle Phil dipped him up 
with the net. I made several more casts, but 
in spring holes of this size one will seldom find 
more than one trout, although I have caught 
three. 
At certain periods during the summer months 
the trout seem to take to the spring holes. It 
would be hard to make a definite statement as 
to the cause for this, but the most likely ex¬ 
planation I have heard is that during the sum¬ 
mer months when the river is naturally warmer, 
the trout seek the colder water of the springs. 
This, however, is the case only in the still waters. 
In the rapids you will generally find the fish 
quite plentiful throughout the season. 
We moved on down stream with the current, 
watching for the spring holes as we drifted, and 
it was not long before we came upon a second. 
This was similar to the pool we had just fished 
and the first cast was greeted with a splash. “By 
Gar’,” said Phil, “dat was vaire beeg feesh!” 
So it was, but he had missed the fly. I made 
several more attempts, but he would not rise 
again. This is generally the case in the smaller 
