6 18 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 18, 1908. 
A Wonderful Salmon Pool. 
In front of me lies a much-worn fly-book, in¬ 
side those shabby covers the remnants of many 
faithful flies. Is it, therefore, but natural, that 
this treasure recalls fishing expeditions, for 
after all we still love to return to the scenes and 
pleasures of our past outings and find these same 
outings so easily revisited in memory. There 
are many who have experienced the thrill, and 
felt the heart rise within the mouth as the very 
waters seemed to shake when the “king of fish” 
gave us battle royal, and you to whom this ex¬ 
perience is unknown, have yet a choice sensation 
in store. It seems to me a hopeless task, to pen 
one’s feelings at such a moment, when the swirl 
of your first salmon comes, then and only then 
will you realize why salmon fishing fascinates, 
and indeed the fascination is not only temporary, 
for I venture to state there will come many 
moments in your after life (even when this 
earth is wearing its winter dress, and your 
library fire is most soothing), that first salmon 
will creep in again and give something to re¬ 
member, a “something” which seems hard to 
forget. Of all our outings there is generally 
one which seems to hold the greatest delights 
for after reflections. 
My fly-book of course brings back one outing 
which stands head and shoulders above all my 
others. 
Sailing across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with 
a spanking breeze, our attention was drawn to 
land dead ahead. Knowing the sail was too short 
to sight the Labrador, my curiosity was naturally 
aroused, but soon learned we were approaching 
the Island of Anticosti. This island is the sole 
property of Menier, the French chocolate king. 
He, it appears, purchased the same from the 
Canadian government and has since built a mag¬ 
nificent residence in its chief bay. This gentle¬ 
man, I learn, has set up rigid game laws and even 
limits its few inhabitants with their hunting; so 
all thoughts of visiting its game was out of the 
question. 
After passing the western end of Anticosti, 
you sight the North Shore, as it is called—in 
reality the Canadian Labrador—and take a di¬ 
rect course for Mingan, arriving there in a few 
hours’ good sailing. Mingan, which is one of 
the Hudson Bay’s oldest and most interesting 
posts, is situated at the outlet of the celebrated 
Mingan River. Some two miles up this river the 
waters of River Mainafeaux join it. Both rivers 
belonged to a company, and to fish these waters 
one required a permit, which I may say we were 
fortunate in having. My companion, to whom 
these waters were familiar, told me we would 
run the canoe up to the Mingan falls in the 
morning and there I might expect to see the 
sight of a lifetime. Naturally expectations were 
running high and the night seemed all too long, 
in spite of the long sea voyage of the previous 
days. 
With the beauties of another sunny day we 
started for the falls and had a hard paddle 
against the strong current and black flies which 
actually came in clouds; were it not for the 
blessing of fly oil, one could not live on these 
rivers. How well I remember the welcome roar 
of the falling water as I looked for it at every 
bend of the river. It seemed an interminable 
age, the reaching of that pool, where the sight 
of a life was in store. At last we came to the 
final bend of the river and opened up the falls 
running down over steps of rock into the won¬ 
derful pool. Indeed I can truly say my expecta¬ 
tions were gratified and far beyond all expecta¬ 
tions, for in truth the water of that immense 
pool was literally churned with jumping salmon; 
there were five and eight beautiful fish, leaping 
in the air at the same moment, and the picture 
they made with their silvery bodies glistening in 
the sun and then falling with a splash cannot 
soon be forgotten. 
Working the canoe around the edge of the 
pool, we landed at the base of the fall, where 
the guide told us, in very broken English, and 
many gesticulations toward the sky to “Zee dem 
shump,” so placing ourselves at the top of the 
first fall beside little basins of water, which were 
worn out of solid rock, we watched for results. 
Reward came very soon, for as we watched the 
seething pool below there came a salmon torpedo 
straight for us, making the leap in a masterly 
manner, gaining the brink of falling water, 
where he seemed to hold his ground by mighty 
efforts and then glide gracefully into one of the 
basins directly at our feet. There the monster 
lay resting, with half his back out of water and 
apparently not the slightest fear of the audience. 
Watching every movement of this fish for fully 
ten minutes and wondering the next move, we 
noticed the tail slowly moving, drawing the sal¬ 
mon backward into a side eddy, then a most 
spectacular sight followed. Rushing ahead, then 
back a number of times, apparently judging the 
correct distance, the fish stopped, then the tail 
curled, almost touching his side, a black streak 
shot through the water, a glistening, wriggling fish 
in the air, and our entertaining friend disap¬ 
peared above the second fall, away to his spawn¬ 
ing ground up the Mingan. Our genial guide, 
becoming exasperated with the English lan¬ 
guage, ventured forth in French and was de¬ 
lighted beyond words to find we understood him, 
whereupon he told us the uselessness of setting 
up rods, as the salmon when jumping, as they 
then were, would never look at our flies. How¬ 
ever, we refused to listen to this advice and did 
not see how it could be possible to fish in that 
water without getting a rise every cast. But the 
guide knew what he was talking about, for we 
fished that pool for hours, and the tantalizing 
demons would actually leap over our flies but 
“not a take.” Soon after this my companion’s 
reel became very noisy, a sure sign of trouble, 
and I was then aware of a battle in hand. In¬ 
deed, that was a fight to the finish, for my com¬ 
panion, being disgusted with the salmon, had 
taken a nine-ounce trout rod and was tempting 
the big trout with a grilse fly and fifty yards of 
line, when friend salmon saw his opportunity for 
amusement. That fight was- against fearful odds, 
the landing of that fish, after nearly four hours 
of unceasing fighting was a triumph in angling. 
Yes, there were many moments when the reel 
only showed a few folds of line, the guide and 
I paddling with all our might to save the run¬ 
away. 
Do not, therefore, imagine you can do this 
trick with your first salmon, and do not be too 
much disappointed if your first fish outwits you 
with his jumping tactics. Correspondent. 
All the fish laws of the United States and Can¬ 
ada, revised to date and now in force, are given 
in the Game Laivs in Brief. See adv. 
Salmon Fishing in Nova Scotia. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The streams of Nova Scotia are, owing to 
their nearer proximity to the gulf stream, con¬ 
siderably earlier than those of New Brunswick 
and Quebec. 
Good sport may be had even if the weather 
is cool and the flies are put out among floating 
ice; but our English cousins often find their 
best fishing during the latter part of winter, and 
the early opening of the Nova Scotia rivers is 
now rapidly being availed of, not only by Hali¬ 
fax anglers, but by many from this side of the 
line. 
The Tusket, Clyde and several other streams 
up as far as the East River are comparatively 
late, those from the last named stream up as far 
as the Sable River are moderately early; the 
best early fly-fishing is to be found in the Med¬ 
way, Mersey, Ingram, and even the Indian 
River. The new railroad between Halifax and 
Yarmouth brings all these rivers within easy 
reach of the American angler; the Medway and 
other favorite streams being now about twenty- 
four hours’ travel from Boston. 
The angler may either drop off at Jordan and 
fish the Jordan River or keep on to Liverpool 
and ascend the Mersey River to Milton, where 
he will find comfortable quarters and one of the 
most prolific pools in the Dominion. 
The Medway is, I think, the earliest river in 
the province on which good fly-fishing may be 1 
had, an eighteen-pound fish last year having 
been taken on the first day of the season. 
A line addressed to the postmaster of either 
of the towns I have named or of Port Medway, 
N. S., will put the angler in communication with 
guides and obtain for him all the information 
he desires. 
The flies used in this early salmon fishing are 
all of very large pattern, yellow and bright 
brown in color; Prince-William-of-Orange, 
Jock-Scott, Popham, Durham-Ranger, light 
Montreal and the silver-doctor in several sizes 
and tied with an abundance of feathers from the 
golden pheasant; all these flies should be tied 
pretty full. 
The flies at this season are well sunk in the 
water and are moved rather slowly. 
The angler will find a good serviceable grilse 
rod long enough and of sufficient weight to 
meet all the requirements; most of the fishing 
is done from either a canoe or dory, and a long 
heavy salmon rod is found an unwieldy tool to I 
employ while standing in the unstable craft; in 
fact, some anglers are contentirtg themselves 
when fishing from boat or canoe with a single¬ 
hand six- or seven-ounce fly-rod. The only 
objection that can be urged against the em¬ 
ployment of very light rods in contests with 
fresh run sea salmon is that considerable time is 
required and the pool is consequently much 
stirred up before the fish is brought to the gaff. 
F. A. Samuels, i 
The First Penobscot Salmon. 
Brewer, Me., April - ,3.— Editor Forest ami 
Stream: The first Penobscot salmon, weighing 
eleven pounds, was taken on a fly at The Pool 
April 1. The shores were all ice and a bitterly 
cold wind was blowing. Manly Hardy. 
