


better acquainted with, long ee “ep 
after your old Dad is too old to = 
stray very far from the family 
fireside.” 
“But YOU will never grow old,” re- 
assured Sonnyboy. ‘Mother says you 
LOOK much younger than you are. 
What’s a little gray at the temples, 
Dad?” 
Which set me to thinking. 
No finer tribute can be paid than 
this. It “sounds good” when it comes 
from your son. And particularly when 
that son is ready for college and almost 
as tall as you are, with a deepening 
voice and fuzz on his upper lip... 
when he’s beginning to take girls to 
dances. 
“Trying to put off going into the 
‘glades’?” I countered, remembering the 
color which had fled from his cheeks, 
following our philosophical friend’s re- 
marks on the subject of snakes, ’gators 
and wildcats, with Seminoles thrown 
in, for good measure. 
“You think I’m AFRAID, 
you?” was his hurt response. 
“Well,” I admitted, “you never care 
for the dark very much, and when that 
is apt to be coupled with wildcats and 
Indians and alligators, you have a 
right to be reluctant.” 
“Where YOU go, I go, Dad,” he 
reassured me. And there the matter 
ended. 
I set aside one hour for black bass 
in the canal, and when my watch 
had ticked off that period we stopped. 
We were equally successful and a total 
of nineteen sizeable specimens were 
caught. 
sion. 
Page 71 
don’t 
That night, on the hammock, 
But I must make an admis-. 
when we set about cleaning them and 
making them ready for the pan, we 
found we had only the sport of 
the hour to recompense us. Those 
small-mouth fighters were filled with 
WORMS! And they had to be thrown 
away. Too warm water brings this 
about. 
But this is by no means the universal 
rule. You, mayhap, will want to fish 
for black bass out Tamiami way. The 
canal has now been far extended and 
the fishing is even better. You may 
go to Miami, and get away early, of 
a clear morning, for some of the most 
exhilarating sport you ever experi- 
enced. It will be unlike any fishing for 
black bass you ever came across. And 
it is due to the environment, the place, 
the supreme quiet of the Everglades: 
the consciousness that you are angling 
in virgin territory. 
We just happened to strike it when 
the waters had been boiled by pro- 
tracted days of steaming sunshine. It 
was an off season. This 
does not mean that fishing 
CHARACTERISTIC SHORE 

LINE OF 
BLIGHT OF THE DRAINAGE CANAL AS YET, 
A HAMMOCK 
in the Tamiami is 
a waste of time and that 
you'll catch something you 
can’t eat. 
Over the _ rickety-rackety wooden 
“bridge” we went, to the sliced ham- 
mock’s shore, and—the real adventure 
was started in earnest. The sun, high 
in the heavens by now, beat upon us 
relentlessly, but for a time, at least, 
we would have the cooling shelter of 
the bays and live oaks and tangled 
vines. 
Never had Sonnyboy’s Winchester 
seemed so companionable. I think he 
expected a Seminole to leap out at him 
from every cavern and grotto of green. 
This hammock happened to be a 
large one and the greater portion of it 
ran westward. As a consequence, we 
had a two-hour experience with the 
typical Florida ’Glade “island.” Even 
here, this far out, the canal had done 
its work. The undergrowth was far 
(Continued | 
on page 95) meee ee 






HAS NOT FELT THE 
THAT 
AND IS IN A FLOURISHING TROP- 
ICAL CONDITION 
