Fishing on the Caloosah&tchee River. 
Fishing had never interested me particularly 
until I made a trip to the west coast of Florida 
last winter. There, on the beautiful waters ,of 
the Caloosahatchee River, I fished for the first 
time with a rod and reel. Before that I had 
fished of course as everybody has, but with only 
a hand line, or a rod and line, but had never 
caught anything more exciting than perch, pick¬ 
erel 1 and flatfish. I do remember having had a 
lesson a few years ago in casting for trout on 
a private lake in the Catskills, and I adored it. 
The Caloosahatchee holds many kinds of fish, 
namely, tarpon, channel bass, cavally, sheeps- 
head, weakfish or sea trout, mackerel, red snap¬ 
per, black grouper and ladyfish. 
I shall never forget my excitement when I 
had my first strike, and hooked a channel bass, 
more commonly known as red drum, but spoken 
of as redfish by the natives of Florida. I was 
fishing from a large power dory, and was using 
rather a light but stiff rod and a spoon. My 
line was out thirty or forty feet, and I was 
hanging on for dear life with my newly acquired 
thumbstall, a cap crocheted with white twist string, 
fitting over the thumb like the finger of a glove. 
With this the fisherman can stop the play of 
the, fish without cutting the thumb on the line 
as it reels off. Thumbstalls are not generally 
used by experienced fishermen, except when fish¬ 
ing for tarpon. They are quite necessary, how¬ 
ever, for women. I only had a minute to wait 
before my first strike came, and truly I thought 
I had the whole world on my line. The line on 
my reel went out with a ziz. I tried to stop it 
by grabbing the handle of my reel, entirely ignor¬ 
ing my thumbstall, and my knuckles suffered. 
However, I soon collected my wits and then 
began to enjoy myself thoroughly, for the fish 
remained on my hook, although I had given 
him every possible chance for escape. I think 
he must have known it was my first attempt 
and realized what a blow to my pride it would 
have been had I lost him. The fish fought quite 
a bit, and not being used to this tug-of-war, I 
soon became exhausted. What would have been 
child’s play to an experienced fisherman was 
real work for me. At least three people told me 
all at once how to play the fish, how to hold my 
rod, and when to land him. Finally, my arms 
aching with exhaustion, my guide brought a 
twelve-pound channel bass into the boat and I 
became a fisherwoman. 
Landing my first fish gave me confidence, and 
after that I had no more real trouble. During 
the three remaining weeks of my stay we fished 
every clear day, going out early in the morning 
and returning just before sunset. During this 
time we caught many different kinds of iish, 
mostly trolling in small power boats. 
For real sport I prefer landing a cavally to 
any other kind of the smaller Florida fish, for 
although they are not at all scarce and are not 
used for food, they are very lively and you are 
sure of a good fight if you have hooked a good 
sized one. An average cavally weighs from five 
to ten pounds, but they run up as high as twenty 
pounds. The ladyfish, although small, affords 
no little excitement, for they leap from the water 
when hooked and fight like a fresh water black 
bass. They are unusually pretty, slender and 
silvery, and are caught on medium tackle with 
small fish bait. 
The tarpon—the silver king of the South—is 
held almost sacred by those fishermen who go 
to Florida every winter for this sport. They are 
rarely called tarpon by the lovers of the sport, 
but are always spoken of as “the fish” just as 
if they were the only fish in the sea. When 
Mrs. W. A. Jones with two tarpon weighing 135 and 97 
pounds, killed by her on rod and reel in one afternoon’s 
fishing. 
the season is on and the water becomes warm, 
the fish begin to roll, and the. excitement grows 
intense. They are spoken of in hushed whispers. 
Outfits cleaned, oiled and polished, the fisherman 
makes ready for the season. 
Soon the fish begin to jump, and then early 
in the morning is heard the put-put of the little 
motor boats carrying their different charges 
away for their day of hope. These boats with 
their guides are hired months — sometimes a 
whole year—ahead for the fishing season. I 
truly believe that those little boats are just as 
eager to bring in the first fish of the season as 
their occupants are. 
During these tarpon days the hotel is strip¬ 
ped of its men. Day after day they go out very 
early and come in late; never seem wholly dis¬ 
couraged if they don't even get a strike, and 
are more than fully rewarded if their days of 
patient waiting result in the killing of one fish. 
Most men seem to look upon the idea of a 
woman killing a tarpon with the same scorn 
that they hold for the woman who wishes to 
vote—-“even if they could, they shouldn’t.” 
These fish belong to the men, and it quite in- 
jures their pride to think that a woman should 
be able to land one. But they do. One of the 
illustrations shows Mrs. W. Ashby Jones, of 
Virginia, with two tarpon, weighing 97 and 135 
pounds, killed by her in an afternoon’s fishing. 
Mrs. Jones is an enthusiast, and a born fisher¬ 
woman, having fished every season for ten or 
twelve years. One of Mrs. Jones’ largest fish 
hangs in the British Museum. Mr. Jones, who 
for years has been one of the best known fisher¬ 
men on the west coast of Florida, is shown here 
with one of the largest tarpon that has ever 
been killed on the rod, weighing 200 pounds and 
measuring 7 feet sRj inches in length. This fish 
is one of a season’s killing of fifteen made by 
Mr. Jones. His record for one season is thirty- 
eight fish, and his largest average catch was 
made in 1909, when he showed fifteen fish aver¬ 
aging 13714 pounds. 
The tarpon season lasts about five or six 
weeks and commences about the 13th of March. 
This being my first trip to one of the best 
fishing grounds of Florida I did not plan to 
stay through the entire tarpon season, which dis¬ 
appointed me keenly, for I had become an enthu¬ 
siast and felt that with my newly acquired skill 
and a little persuasion, even I, a woman, could 
land a real fish. Beatrice Kobbe Little. 
Department Seeks Lakes. 
The Pennsylvania Fisheries Department will 
try at the coming session of the Legislature to 
obtain authority over a dozen lakes in North¬ 
eastern Pennsylvania which may in time become 
the location of great fish hatcheries. 
These lakes are in Wayne, Susquehanna, Lu¬ 
zerne and Pike counties. The title to twelve of 
them remains in the State and the plan is to 
have the title vested in the fisheries’ department 
so that regulations governing them can be en¬ 
forced. The other dozen lakes desired are 
owned by private individuals. 
The purpose is to have control of the lakes 
for egg getting. The department will stock the 
lakes with fish, and public fishing will be allowed 
under the supervision of the Department of 
Fisheries. If the lakes are secured they will 
be used as auxiliary field stations and will be 
used for fish culture and egg gathering. 
The same bill will also give the department 
authority to gain control of certain trout streams 
that now run through private land, and upon 
which fishermen dare not enter. The rights of 
landowners to the streams are considered as 
violating the rights of the citizens of the State, 
and it is the desire of the department to have 
all trout streams in the State open to the public. 
